Again, forgiveness

 “Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back.”
― Anne Lamott


How to forgive a Mother for dying too soon
How to forgive a Father for living too long
a brother for betrayal
a sister for neglect
The noisy neighbor who causes you to loose sleep

How to forgive your body for enveloping you in pain
How to forgive a friend who thinks you dont need one
the lover who leaves
the lover who never was
The child who quietly screams, they hate you

How to forgive yourself for believing it was true
How to forgive yourself for thinking it was all about you
No betrayal or neglect
No noise or pain

forgiveness   forgiveness   foregiveness

It is a daily ritual
done without ease
forgiveness 
again and again and again

The Gate

First there is a gate
then there is no gate
then there is.
Everything  a gate, a mountain, a doorway
it’s all the same
every person we meet
every task in front of us
every fear we create
a doorway, a mountain, a gate
step through and it disappears
only to form again

Alacrity

I have none.

Line

“Line … line” came the actor’s plaintive cry,
the rehearsal had been dragging on,
it was late, the lighting crew were arguing
as dark shadows crossed the actor’s face,
everyone’s muscles ached
“ly’n” came the script supervisor’s response
“what?” the actor looked up, face askew
“ly’n, as in, he’s LY’N, he’s always ly’n”
the actor went back to combing the actress’s hair
her head jerked when he hit a snag
she woke with a start.
she had been dozing, had been dreaming of long silky hair,
she always dreamed that she had hair like that
in stead her head jerked again, another snag
“line” she asked
the script supervisor just sighed

Diabolical

This plan was simple and to the point
let it in and then let it out
failure was a possibility but not a deterrent
flow in
stop at the gate and flow out
seismographic records and current periodic elements aside
this attempt meant business
line
line
Who will hold the line?
Diabolical
Kiss me: and hold my broken spine together with your sly Baleen smile

Pequod Redux

The fog covers it all.
slow ocean swells,
on this glassy sea, a boat
filled with worshipers of
the behemoth of the deep
the barnacled brow
breaches the surface

“Oh” the collective gasp and
they move as one
as if beckoned
and the ocean rises to meet them
enters the boat
their last screams muffled
as the fog covers it all.

Sweet Whip Cream

The Marine Layer is sitting
On the coast of The Monterey Bay
Thick condensed moisture
Sweet whip cream for the soul

My soul
Your Soul
The world needs some sweetness
Right about now

By the time I put down my pen
And recline into my chaise lounge
It will be dark and the coast
Will have disappeared from my view

An Alternative Ending

The film sound stage quieted. The director squirms in his seat, as he whispers “action.” Lit on the dark stage, a figure sits in a soft winged chair contemplating a large cigar. His beard is neatly trimmed. His fin de siècle horn-rimmed glasses sets his face off from his comfortable gray flannel suit. Blowing a neat ring of smoke towards a figure reclining on an ornate chaise longue, he clears his throat trying to awaken the snoring actor. He finally casts his imploring gaze towards the director. It has been the thirty-seventh take and it is three thirty in the morning and everyone was very weary. The sleeping actor could not be roused. He was exhausted. Everyone was exhausted. They could go no further. The director gave in. “Cut, It’s a wrap.”

Freud my Archeologist

 


My Archeologist told me I am too deep
too compressed and too complicated

I flex my brain and attempt an expelling
of said deep, compressed complication

My Archeologist tells me next: fear not power
your own or others as well as might is right
power is but an illusion as well as dust

With precise optical brushes and miniscule velvet pickaxe
the dig has begun without my consent or desire

My Archelologist reaches out to me with gloved hand
confidently turns my wrist over to expose my veins
and touches each visible blue ghost with tenderness

Ach du lieber gott......
I have no fear
Just a thought
Will there be tea and toast afterwards?

After the Storm

a low grumble following a flash of light

the storm moves further down the valley

electric air stirred by a gentle green breeze

branches bend low discarding

            the last drops of the past hour

small soft animals peek out

expectation in their eyes

the archeologist of our mind

            slowly reassembles

the shards of this battered world

it is the second dawn of this day

Ode to Platypus

We are all Electrical Beings
some bear the burden well

My eyes can sting from too
much ambiant human current
as it runs across my occipital lobe

Oh! Platypus! as you run charges
not meant for human exposure
and seek food purely on the impulse
from a small errant move in the
body of a crayfish shell you
sing songs of mysterious ambiguation

Platypus is everything that ever was
from ancient waters and low flowering trees
you are still here and the more we try
to discover who you are the less we know

Eat What You Eat

The red squirrel looked at the echidna in disgust. “You eat living beings.” The squirrel raised its nose with distain. “While I only eat seeds and nuts.” The echidna stopped sniffing the ground and looked up at the squirrel. “ I eat what I eat. It tastes good and I go on living.” He thought about it some more and added, “I have no teeth to chew seeds and nuts. My mother gave me my toothless mouth, and she got hers from her mother. Before that I’m not sure.” The echidna slowly pondered because that was all it could manage and said, “I am not disgusted by you. I just eat what I eat, just like you.

Silver Squirrels

Without you alive, We have a complicated relationship
Guitar, keyboard, multi track console no longer
react to your fine strong musician hands

Just as the Silver New Mexican Squirrel
tries to select a host that is the least toxic
we sought that in each other and tried
to mitigate the poison in our work environment

When you come to me now
as a Ponderosa Pine Loving Squirrel:
It feels to taunt me!

Was it you who stood in the doorway
dressed in Silver Costume?
Was it you who slowly crossed the kitchen tiles?
Was it you who spread the contagious
but necessary spores into my new life?

When my mutation is complete
we will encircle the Gila Forest
pupate in the secret Kiva
adopt Mimbres culture
and slowly return to Being Human

The Glow

trembling from the cool night air

he awoke with a start

confused, his mind started to

reassemble a sense of where he was

a forest surely, and oh yes,

on a walk in the late afternoon heat,

tired, he laid down just to rest

an effortless sleep

followed his slowing mind.

penetrating the darkness

a faint light, a glow

voices quietly chanting

something unfamiliar

something comforting

he rose and stumbled

towards it

he was not alone

small and not-small animals

drawn to this, this, he wasn’t sure

but he did know his soul wouldn’t

be complete without …

Ouija Board

How smooth the hand of God as it
glides across the Ouija Board

13 stood naked that virgin night
clothes ignored near cold feet

They crossed the graveyard in pitch black
running to The Tree
 
A delicate wrought iron fence encircles it 
ancient by all accounts and
no bigger than the human form

"From her heart it sprang" was whispered
no one knew the rituals origin, just 
that is must be performed 

Yellowed headlights shaft through the forest
scorching full blown milky innocence
scattering the moths burnt by the flame

 ouija     ouija     ouija