2016 – 2018
Table of Contents
I Go Outside…………………………5
Can You Hear Me Now………………8
No Direction Back…………………..11
Child of the Dawn………..…………..19
Now That You Are Free………..…….21
The Universe Whirs…….……………23
When Our Long Dormancy
The Green City….……………………29
Between Two Seas………………….36
When I speak of Love………………39
I Go Outside
I go outside
looking for those non-words
that speak lizards crisscrossing the dirt
and dogs barking in the distance
and little birds that can’t sit still for a second
flitting about between the trees
that shift positions as
I rock from one foot to the other.
I’m on my way now
I’m distracted, protracted and slightly disgusted,
I’m hunched over on two wheels,
sun lit and full of the fragility ability.
I ride my bicycle over grains of sand, pebbles,
mountains and small creatures I can’t even see.
Microorganisms, amoebas, plants, fish, animals,
even birds flying high across the celestial sky.
All those organisms organizing,
all those atoms and molecules coalescing together,
even humans. (we are so vain)
I’m moving my legs up and down, left and right,
listening to that sound,
that whomp, whomp, whomp rhythm
of everything going round and round and round,
singing and spinning through space.
I’m making revolutions and revelations,
palpitations, inhalations and exhalations,
spinning my wheels to make my deals
at the Tienda of Love and Infinite Abundance.
I’ve come to buy ice and bread,
tortillas and chili sauce,
orange juice, potatoes and candy,
conversation and commiseration
with all those busy people waiting politely in line
in between cooler with beer, coca-cola and cheese.
until it’s my turn to make my purchases.
On the way back there’s a bunch of wild children
running and smiling and waving as I pass by
and I wave back and ride all the way back home.
That’s what was happening outside my house,
outside my yard.
outside my mind today,
out there with all that death and destruction,
outrage and corruption, drug violence,
nuclear proliferation and climatic degradation
we hear about every day on the news.
But not today. Not at this eternal moment.
Today Armageddon passed us by.
Today we just had a few small awakenings
and a group of little girls smiling and waving
from the sidewalk
like perfect little angels,
and that made me very happy.
Can You Hear Me Now
I step outside, naked into the night,
into the swirl of distant starlight,
spinning timelessly overhead.
I am hoping for a better connection
to facilitate my resurrection from slumber,
but all there is is the staccatic interruption
of half words and disembodied syllables unintelligible
intermingling with the infernal buzz of mosquitoes
probing my inadequate defenses.
Can you hear me now?
Can you hear me now?
Can you hear me now?
Somewhere in this infinite darkness
there is another soul,
fluctuating now in hard plastic ,
or encased in some other constriction
of his or her own making
beyond these broken airwaves
pulsing in the night amidst
the winking lights of fireflies.
Here, up from my quiet slumber
I find myself in the urgency of our condition
in the incompletion of our connection.
There is my desire for the animal warmth of touch,
absent from our intellectual
and technological potentialities.
I am reminded of the brutality
of our acculturated defenses,
the fearful price of our control.
We imprison ourselves in the impenetrable,
constructions of concrete, metal and mind
seeking permanence and protection
from our otherness
and thus we become our separateness
oh so easily and safely.
We blind ourselves to the eyes of others
while walking the hard concrete paths
of city sidewalks,
so complete in our isolation
that not even
the tiny images illuminated
on smartphone screens
can penetrate the wall.
Thus we long to belong.
Thus we desire the blazing fires
of freed spirits dancing in moonlight
and to gaze into the liquid eyes
of unrestrained wildness,
unknown and untamed,
or simply to touch the yielding forgiveness of skin,
or the sensuous tender green stems of plants,
or to hear the distant voice of someone loved.
Now I press the illusory red bar
in the window of this technological device
which has failed to penetrate
the thorny maze of my wilderness,
my peace, and my aloneness.
and enter the soft brilliance of dream light…
I close the door and return to my bed
Can you hear me now?
Can you hear me now?
No Direction Back
How many minutes, how many days,
how many years, how many millennia,
have I wandered this circular path
which never meets it’s beginning,
that never repeats itself exactly,
spiraling endlessly outward
through darkness and light.
I have become side-tracked, diversioned,
lost up crooked game trails
that end in piles of rubble
in the hunt for the game
of my most precious addictions.
I have been distracted by flashing colored lights
that promised glorious tongue licking fun,
but secretly deceived and devoured the soul
as only appearances can do.
I have ridden through twisted subdivisions
with dead end streets without a map,
with unbreachable walls and seemingly no way out,
except the addictive blue pulse of
seen from outside yellowish windows.
I have traveled down endless highways
without refuge or fake sylvan oases
with clean restrooms and drinking fountains
and slept on piles of stones
without a pillow.
How many times have I succumbed
to the false needs of avarice and repulsion,
walking the straight line spine
of magnetic polarity
on that high ridge road
with such steep precipices on each side.
And how many times have I fallen
and lain by the side of that road defeated
in some cluster of weeds
and tasted the rot of human refuse
curled in an embryonic huddle
to the abdomen of the great mother,
clutching the rising arc of the cycle,
the forgiving sickle of life and death,
only to be delivered,
to be born into the heart
of new existence
and the pure bliss of being alive
because there is no direction back.
So it was YOU then,
dancing in the ethereal darkness
hauling your loot,
my nearly bad fruit,
between beams of starlight
and stolen dreams,
beyond the reaches
of my meager senses,
over roof tops
and under fences.
An aboriginal arboreal marsupial.
A possible opposable opossum.
My Apache tlacuache,
an ánimo animal,
I see you now
strutting down my garden path
in broad daylight,
bold as brass,
as I water the vegetation
to renew myself.
You have returned to the scene
just to be seen.
A proud thief
with papaya juice still dripping
from your rubbery lips.
bald tailed and loathsome.
I can hear you
laughing softly from between
your bared razor sharp teeth,
I salute you,
as you wiggle your fat behind
into the tangle of the jungle
where even my civilized barking dog
refuses to follow.
You, creature of the night
from the other side of light.
You, who are now
slinking back into the emptiness
from which you came,
carrying our fears
and all the suffering in the world
we are unwilling to bear.
It comes on like a wound,
a twist, with hot blood surging around it,
that swelling of the heart
which feels as if it must surely burst.
It must have been winter dormant then,
encased in ice just a moment ago.
A bud sleeping. A vision,
waiting for the exact moment that is correct.
And then, there it is,
a catch in the throat,
upon seeing something of such
so profound and important
that all else fades away..
The first pale greenness of a new leaf.
The bursting of a flower.
The sweetness of the fruit on the tongue.
A child’s smile.
A mother’s love.
A sunrise or sunset.
That which is worth more than anything.
True happiness unbound
that waters the eyes uncontrollably.
That which when we focus upon,
The swelling of new life
in the very heart
of the Universe within
We all live in little houses
without any trousers,
where all the walls are mirrors.
Where all of our senses
and all our defenses
reflect only our desires and our fears.
You can only depart
if you open your heart
and let in the light of another.
There are no other windows
or doors you can pass through
but love and compassion and wonder.
Child of the Dawn
And then the child mottled and strange
in that pink light of dawn
wanders in from some long journey home.
He steps out of the soothing patter of rain
that fell unrestrained across the night,
and in half sleep stands before me.
“Where have you been?”
I ask him in the half light
streaking into the world from between
ethereal clouds and moments breaking.
Silent answers flow and roll on the steam
rising gently from somewhere deep behind
the mask of identity, of stone and bone,
neither his nor mine or both.
Seeping out of that dark narrow funnel of lost time
through which all things suffered and loved
have passed, both coming and going,
all matter and all that matters,of dreams and meat,
in a quiver of cosmic dust and water
while eyes flutter open
concealing all that existed
before consciousness reigned.
Now That You Are Free
For my friend Weldon McFadden
Now that you are free
and the distance between stars
has become less than a hair’s breadth
and all of time
has been reduced to a single eternal instance.
Now that you have acquired
the ability to whisper
into the dreams and imaginations
of all those who have shared your life.
I hear echos of your laughter traversing the universe
as all your fears, your burdens,
your limitations and your sufferings
are transmuted into mirth and joy
upon your return to the heart of all creation.
Thank you for the blessing you have been
for the many gifts of love you have given us
that have lifted the hearts of all who knew you
and brought smiles to our days.
Guide us now, dear friend,
Now that you are able,
that we might follow you into that sweet place
of abandon and utter delight again….
Now that you are free.
The Universe Whirs
The fan spins idly in the window.
A truck grinds along the nearby highway.
A drum beats somewhere in the pueblo.
The high pitched voice of a priest in recitation
wafts from somewhere beyond the trees.
A breeze stirs a response from the leaves.
Romeo barks at a bird or an iguana on the roof
and then quiets.
The universe whirs from the heart of my being
and the stars that surround us.
Time flows through the waft and weave of everything
like senseless chatter,
forgotten as soon as it is spoken,
unable to hold it’s place.
When Our Long Dormancy Has Ended
When our long dormancy has ended at last
and the first light enters the cracks of the chrysalis.
When wings flutter above the shards in the dewy dawn
revealing hidden streaks of color
and strains of long forgotten songs
left in the wake
of the death of all fear and desire.
There, I shall find you again
wrapped in a blanket of pure innocence,
and in that moment
when all our pasts will have fallen away,
love will emerge anew
and we will flutter like butterflies
dancing through the empty spaces of the heart.
I sweep my dial
I cast my net
I spin my wheels
I probe the universe
I search my sensations
those secret secret stations
hidden in unknown pirate coves
with light glinting of water
like molten gold
I swivel my antenna
I turn my rabbit ears
this way and that
I spin my hat
in every direction
I submerge my receptors
in the deep waters
of the river
to find that sonar blip
than ever before
I wash the crust off my soul
and brush my hair for static
trying to increase
I flip all my switches to on
I climb high
to highest peak
of the tallest tree
I engage each leaf
I touch each stem
I hold each branch
I feel each heart
I ground myself in roots
to the center of the earth
only to be told
this site cannot be reached
then I wait for the bars to rise again
one, two, three, four, five
of course OK
it may involve pleasure or pain
but of course
I click OK
because I desire
to hook up
to establish a secure connection
and dance the dance
all the way home
The Green City
The day after the rain
the multitude bursts forth
in a tangle of pale green
uncoiling from seeds lain in wait
unnoticed in the dry dust
now turned black
with moisture and fecundity.
The expanding Universe spills forth
in an explosion of love and life,
a frenzy of individuality,
a plethora of anonymity,
nameless strands of this and that
multiplying and dividing,
twisting and writhing,
like rush hour traffic
filling every available space,
until it becomes a jungle,
a jumble of twining stems and leaves
a green city rising
towards an unobtainable sun
with roots probe deep
into the basements
between grains of sand and fecal debris
seeking the last drop that fell
in the storm.
Higher and higher the mass climbs
breaching the air
reaching up through the branches of trees
the last flower has bloomed
and spilled it’s seeds to the ground
and the bridges and overpasses,
are no longer supportable,
and the entire infrastructure
turns brown and shrivels and tumbles
into the dry dust of ancestors
to await the next storm
as a single entity
out of time
in the bosom
of the earth.
I have been captured
by the mindless mantras of doves
chanting unnoticed beneath the grind
of the machinery of our age,
the noise of gears gnashing
and teeth tearing at the skin of the earth,
the network of noisy dark highways that divide
smog plagued cities gasping for air,
and jet planes carving the sky
leaving trails of toxic ash
like wounds across the heavens.
These simple plaintive songs
have lifted me out of myself
and carried me over scratchy thorn forests,
across salty lagoons and costal swamps
where dinosaurs still graze,
past abandoned temples of the past,
the factories of my mind,
beyond all thought,
where the edges of things become blurred,
and there is no longer
any argument of yes or no,
where everything is allowed
and all judgement ceases,
because there is no difference,
no you, no I,
The black six goes onto the red seven.
The jack goes on the queen,
and the moon,
yes, the moon,
goes up against the black sky
pricked full of tiny circles of lights,
while the red two goes on the red ace,
and in the town,
dogs are barking
at the sirens
of someone’s misfortune,
while I am sitting
in the illusion of my safety
of my small circle of light,
put the black ten on the red jack,
isn’t that what organization is for?
To keep us safe from the chaos of the world,
to maintain the hierarchy,
we are told,
to keep us safe from
the natural disorder of the universe.
I continue to place the cards just so
while the predators roam in the darkness
outside these walls,
outside this circle of light,
with flicks of tail and tooth
and flashes of hot blood
while the moon
is making circles of light
on the cold ground
where everything goes in and out
like some kind of alternate reality
in a different game.
Then the king
in all his unchanging visage
covers the last queen,
with a barely perceptible smile,
and I feel a little rush
of gratification and pride
and there’s a sense of approval from
the royal family or someone….I don’t know…
and it’s time for the shuffle
which always comes
when order is finally achieved,
and the insects applaud out in the bushes,
and all the players flick their tails
at my inventiveness
in their own circles of light,
and the headlights of the ambulance
rush through the night
towards the emergency room doors,
and mice and crickets
and other small organisms scurry
through the tangle of weeds and grasses
without any medical help at all,
and the cards flicker into senseless disorder again
before being allocated
to their starting positions
on the table,
in my circle of light,
and the doctors
are now attempting
to put the pieces in their proper places
to save the lives
of the king
and the queen
for the civilization’s sake,
before the game is over again
and nature is restored.
Between Two Seas
I live in a house between to seas.
The past is one, the future three.
One is done, the other to be.
Where would you live if you were me?
when in the end,
you have joined the breezes,
invisibly wafting through the town,
may we request a final touch,
a soft brush against an arm or cheek,
in some unguarded moment out of time,
so that we might remember
that you are still with us,
and your breath has now become our breath,
and your heartbeat still beats
within the rhythm of our own,
and your love still has the power
to bring a loving smile
to the faces those fortunate enough
to have a memory of yours,
for no apparent reason at all.
When I Speak of Love
When I speak of Love
it is you, specifically,
you of thousands of faces
you whose visage leaps across
the river of my imagination
and into my reality.
You who are cleft with
the light of the spirit
that dwells between and within us,
as dazzling as sunshine
in the midst of a storm,
the color of color,
the truth of truth.
You, only you,
who are the vision of my vision,
the whispers rolling from my tongue,
the caresses that electrify my skin,
the steps that transport my feet
even as I walk unknowingly,
through the amazement my forgetfulness.
When I speak of love
it is you then,
who is capable of destroying my defenses,
exposing my weaknesses,
decimating my loneliness,
you who may dissolve the essence of me
and guide me into the living waters
of that which becomes flower and bird and rain,
flowing through the veins of stars
Sleep has escaped me
I lay in my bed, wrapped in inky 3 a.m. darkness
And tropical heat
I abdicate to the whisper of the universe
The sound of breath and blood coursing through veins
Of rivers flowing through stones and bones
The swirl of stars and the shaking of leaves
The hum of insects, the hiss of dew on hot asphalt
Time and place vanishes as the mind recedes
I dwell in the wonder of mere existence
For just this moment
The vibration of love
Flowing through the openness
Of the heart of creation
Which needs no instrument to be heard
It resonates through the walls of my house
The earth on which it stands
Fingers and toes that tingle in the touch
But because nothing can contain I,
In a nod, slumber returns and the dream resumes
Leaving only traces on the window pane
When dawn arrives.
I bow to the improbability of Music.
I bow to the impossibility of Art.
I bow to the incongruity of Poetry.
I bow to the inadmissible absurdity of the existence
of mankind and life itself……
and the indefinable and indefensible
Imagination that conceived it.