From the forest to the city all in a leap, University and new worlds, still wondering what is Life, what is Art -a mix of serendipity and commitment perhaps?
there is a firewall in my mind-
is that crazy or
does it keep me from being so?
mostly i don’t know it’s there,
all quietly unaware…
until it leaks,
things burst through,
rampage about and break stuff,
cause havoc
until their air is gone
and they dissipate,
become again the shadow world
there behind the wall,
where i am not myself at all.
did we startle into being
like waking to an alarm bell
or was it a long slow glide
like a swan landing
on outstretched wings-
did awareness creep
like a tide rising
fibre by fibre,
first a finger, then a toe
for what we are, it seems,
we did not always know-
were we ‘else’ before we ‘became,’
a player in some other game?
a porpoise, a mountain or a star
whatever it is we might have been
before becoming what we are..?
wind eddied, the dry leaves
hurry past rattling-
is it laughter
or do they curse the fall
in their mad
disintegrating rush?
the Bin Men have come and gone-
now the wind has knocked the empty bins over.
Like skittles they lie,
scattered on the sidewalk
and over the curb.
One still stands,
it’s yellow lid flaps forlornly,
as if urging
the fallen comrades
to rise.
from the daily prompt,
using anagrams of my name,
(a rather Rumplestiltskin game!):
The secrets ego ink,
my creek toes sing
(as) gecko enters Is-
Gecko steers in!
Ice seek Strong,
the nicer geek toss(es)
rice skeet song(s)
by ice gene storks (And)
seever goes kin,
entices kegs (or)
cerises keg not!
in the dark behind my eyes,
only thoughts- my thoughts
all made of words but not ‘my’ words,
the words of a language
thoughts have learned to speak,
speaking there in the body brain
that is no more ’my’ body than
the words are ‘my’ words-
rather, the physical nature
‘my’ spirit has learned to be.
Eyes open, eyes closed,
the day, the night,
not ‘my’ darkness, not ‘my’ light,
but in me, these opposites unite…
what a sea of ‘things’ we live amidst,
10,000 items,the useful and the less so,
that attend our daily rounds-
the debris leftover from ’who’ we used to be
old thoughts, worn out shoes
and broken toys-
precious souvenirs
reminiscent of where we’ve been,
a special stone, a locket,
a faded photograph
and the discarded packaging
that held
our once desires pristine
until we unwrapped them at last-
all these things in a welter
amongst the paperclips,thimbles and bottletops,
the bread tags and empty ballpoint pens,
seashells, odd socks and old magazines…
what a tide,
at once
floating us
and weighing us down.
On Walking:
i never really
gave it much thought-
what is there to discover?
just one foot and then the other…
today, to my suprise
i find-
the body separate
from the mind-
one hip goes one way,
and the ribs another
while the neck seems
nowhere near the head
and nothing wants to go
where it is led…
i practice now,
feeling into energy,
imagining it like an aerial view
of busy night time freeways,
linking, blinking-
all signals in a perfect conversation
of effortless transportation…
to be like the lights
travelling in perfect align
a correction for
this dog-leggedness of mine
the world child
is hungry tonight,
his belly growls.
sorrowing mother
earth groans,
the world soul wails.
we, the lucky ones,
spoons in hand,
and ready to the feast
are helpless to fill
his empty bowl.
hell is a place
where the chopsticks are too long
and none will feed another-
it will take more than food
to ease this hunger.
