shaping the unseen,
might I tell you a secret?
(something you already know)
taking the air
and pushing that air
through a thoroughfare
designed for the task
aligned for the ear-
taking breath
to transmute a sound
nurtured on notes
becomes a song,
weaving a melody
from within your mouth-
how can this be?
such discovery-
and endless
endless- harmonies.
Month: June 2023
reflection, time, memory becomes like a dream
how rain flooding the margins makes
the reflections on this cobbled stone road
under my common feet falling
toe to toe
as I fade, into this known-
dream.?
perhaps a concocted reality
how would I know?
this now feels like
a place, I have only ever seen
in moving pictures and on movie screens,
how familiar this might feel-
but an ocean so far in between
there and now
tells the truth of all these tales-
I need to see her – for myself, again,
to clarify the existence,
one day, some day, perhaps- my dearest love
but fortune, the past does not seem like a memory- anymore.
upon bree (outside the shire)
upon Bree, the hill
lying at the crossroads of the Great East Road
for there did dwell
both hobbits and men alike
in the confines of the Pony
to gather the start of trials then
three days from the shire walk
to take a pint with free-folk
so even the one ring did pass through
through the gates then to the west
on that final quest upon Mount Doom
to spare the land from foul gaze
the gloom to spread from Mordor’s eye
so, the smallest of things
can conquer dread armies
with hearts larger and stronger
and the indomitable will
that is nourished by friendship and kin.
stationary…
I saw a white picket fence today
and wonder where is mine
but then again
was that ever my dream-
to begin with?
I saw a man walking a ridiculously small dog,
how long has it been
since I made the effort to begin,
rather than sit here
and just observe
observational poetry, something I wrote while driving, which happens a bunch, for me, I have journals stashed in my car, my backpacks, pretty much anywhere I might wind up just in case, a ziploc with paper and a pen – I recommend it, you might surprise yourself… or not, but why the hell not give it a shot ?
l’arbor
l’arbor
for I might like to know
the language of the trees
to speak out among them
upon the windly breeze;
but perhaps,
that is only a curtain call
and the elemental communication
resides in roots-
right beneath us all.
notes… there is a quiet thing about trees, you could swear you hear whispers sometimes, sure, that is probably my imagination but… maybe not… this one just popped in my head, I swear it is the strangest thing, I do panic at times like “man, I haven’t posted in like “x” days”… I truly try to not think about it and let it all happen naturally, but I am human, I let it go as much as I can but this is an honest space, so I don’t mind telling you I am not 100% on my mission to be pure, meaning I just want to post and forget about likes and all that, I have been doing this long enough where it should kick me in the brain to let it all go, but those chains… it takes shedding and getting used to, but I am working to just post my work with no refrain… in my head the rationale is there, I should not care at all, not caring in terms of just laying myself bare… I know in my head that in 100 years none of this will matter, it is just getting my grey matter to accept that hard cold fact and just be … a tree. like “here I am”, period… that’s my goal, that is why I post unedited material, just the source, me the spiggot, just trying to get that damn virtual Brita filter over my maw…
the sun, the winter, days off (thoughts of an over worked soul, admittedly my fault).
P…erhaps a paradigm shift in my thinking is needed, for my future mental health, it seems obvious of course, but aren’t some of the simplest things the hardest to implement to get them un-entangled from the pernicious layers we create as buffers or boundaries, I had two days off this weekend, which, may seem crazy to some, is a rarity for me, and has been for 20+ years now, both days this weekend were nearly flawless, I can’t say I indulged them fully, I love to lounge in lucid dreams, truly, and once you have learned to drive such things the temptation to relax and watch a movie in your mind of your own making is… divine, but I did manage to drag my ass out of bed with enough time to at least enjoy the days, but my favorite time? sitting on my deck, buttressed all about by my bamboo children, all of them sprouting now like mad from a sort of late spring boost (not much rain), there is always that tipping point of panic when I don’t see them growing like mad but they always pull through, so far so good, just sitting on my deck taking the world in, a deer and a tiny babe waltzed on through, paying me no mind, I’m sure they were aware, listening to the breeze play through the towers of trees, I do not have some huge backyard, just enough I suppose where I only see the outcrops of urban-ity creeping in on the edges if I so choose to look, instead I like to focus on the shadows thrown by a single candle thread, dancing in the breeze, even the urban sounds make for a good backdrop, the hum of my A/C unit in my right ear, the hum of my neighbors pool apparatus in my left, the occasional, or pretty usual plane slight-screaming over head, that time of night where it is past sunset, but barely, and there is still enough light to see whatever clouds are still hanging around, no exotic colors, just a nice deep indigo with white whisps around, this is my charging station.
So this morning, after the usual drive in, with the usual jack-assery of many drivers which might illicit rage some days, today just a laugh at the ridiculousness of said jack-assery, I realized a few things… take more days off, a simple enough one. perhaps take my 2 day weekends in the winter months as to maximize the daylight, and conversely try to perhaps schedule earlier days in the more daylight months to take advantage of the longer days and longer sunsets, I think at the pace I am going I am more like burning my batteries out over the winter in both physical and an emotional sense, and then over-charging or over compensating in the warmer months… sure there is also vitamins involved and such (like vitamin D etc.) but this is not that blog, I am talking generally for me, of northern stock here in the USA, I wonder if the constant and yearly fluctuation is the erosion that ages this rock? So maybe I should be more conscious of such simple things, not taking time off for times off sake, or maybe so, but also to align more with the patterns of the seasons to benefit the most of the resources available from mother Earth. Of course I could just win the Powerball and move to an island… I could do that too… but just in case that does not happen, perhaps I need to schedule my schedule into 4 seasons…
observing little birds
I’m not sure the make or model
of this little feathered fellow
pacing cross’d on by my window
curiously-looking
maybe wondering
the same of me but mirrored
sometimes you swear the little birds you observe get you..
truth, time and tongues.
if there is truth involved-
then the writings
in an arcane tome
will still have
relevance
today
a taste- on our modern tongue,
as far removed
from original sin
as to then
commit
our own (to begin).
just because we can chat across the globe does not mean that we have advanced as much as we may think.
the evenstar.
“Let us not be overthrown at the final test…
In sorrow we must go, but not in despair” *
and so passed the great king-
in the wake left broken, Arwen
who alone could not bear the grief
who gave all the gift of her kin and kind
to escape out the days into the undying lands
beyond the seeming reach of death; for a time;
but trade all, for this brief time of immaculate love-
above all;
now, with nothing left in this path
she departed out to her once splendid land
forlorn by time, deprived of the elven light, the evenstar – gone,
for some ages now-
for lothlorien had fallen into decay
and her, the last vestige of the place-
she lay down to die, as common folk do
just as Aragorn passed by choice, so she did too
in this far land, now of mortal men-
capable of the darkest plights
the darkest dooms
and yet the also-
the grandest heights, in the true light of love
and now, sacrifice, for the two have chosen, long ago
her eyes close,
knowing this day would come, one last thought
“goodbye my love, my last and only kiss- is yours”
*the last words of Aragon (before he chose to die), from JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Sometimes I am inspired by such great works to write something, this particular scene actually does show up in the movie as Elrond reveals his daughter’s fate to her in a vision, one thing though, perhaps overlooked by some, Elves are not actually immortal, they are tied to the land, they can live an instant or millennia, the undying lands will sustain them for all time as the land exists, but at such a time that the earth ceases, so they too will perish as all things must.
the orange day.
some wonder is lost in this world, I can only imagine what the ancients might think of such a day, and what angered their gods, for what else might have strangled the sky in a blanket of orange, with the clear smoke of fire by scent but no fire within any sight, or would this be known to them as what wildfires do, what they produce allowed to blossom in their season of natural norms, but I quite imagine the sky at night, on nights like these, where there is no light, obscured by phenomenon all explained by our all knowing weatherman, our digital shamans of this age, yet still wrong on so many occasions but the same comfort provided, those in the know to engage the masses who go about their daily life, how far are we evolved from the primitive I wonder, because of our paved roads, bound lines crisscross to provide light, one fragile flick, a serpent’s tongue kiss of the strongest coronal ejection might cause amiss, one flicker and we find out, how far out, we really might be, looking at this orange smoky mass that has descended down from northern neighbor’s town, and wonder which gods did we anger and how to supplicate them… until the next unseen event even if our sight is so young and bent (and jaded).
notes… the day when Canadian wildfires threw strength south, surely a strange site this made for a day, a light itch in my eyes and throats as the day progressed, the peak was around 2pm when I could look out my window and see the world as a red dying giant might, or will, someday.
Shades of My Garden 