‘submerge’
at the end of all time
I will be there
standing
waiting
awaiting
our intersection
once more
hand in hand
to walk off
the infinity plank
into that depth, vast
eyes locked
with yours
mi amor
mi amor
note: this is all about form, fast haiku maybe, maybe something else, my own version of verse… but it makes sense to me rhythmically….
this song, this feel… damn, it always takes me back, got an album like that? the first time I was back in Florida after leaving her, I was in the Keys, the beautiful Keys, Islamorada, with my little Ipod mini, remember those, full moon night, my toes, dangling in the transparent azure ocean waves swaying, the only soul at the end of the straight out dock lined left and right with lights like a photo, watching thunderstorms come in like castles of invading nation states, floating battle stations in their own single space, separated and yet almost in wave formations, sparks of lightning- emanating, a show, just for me, just for me to know, she was listening…
notes… this is something I wrote on Facebook in one moment, one time, because it is true… and it really is… I thought I had video of it back in the day… it was surreal, and so transcendent..
a blink and a wink
and summer will be gone
am I just dragging me (and be extension you) down? to think of such things… for it is not ‘officially’ summer yet but who relies on such things? to me, this is summer already, or at least the flavor has dropped in enough days to accompany me to that place of actualization, relation, maybe I learned a little more this year, for some reason, like a dumb or stubborn squirrel I would save up my personal days like acorns made of gold, a fool’s errand to be told, so this year I took a dart board approach, looked at the big board calendar in all scope, and shot for random gaps in these coming and current months of warm, and so far things have turned up for the better, two days off three weeks in a row now… I am pacing the walls of the asylum with free time, and also (more importantly I can tell you) my days have aligned with the weather, mostly, the odd day of rain, good pounding thunder rain does lull me into a sleep, I would not equate to sleeping beauty, just the sleeping end of it, but mostly, and I am jinxing myself here, the climate has smiled on me, allowing me to traipse the wilds of new jersey (yes, there are wilds of new jersey) in pursuit of one of my passions, fossil hunting, not only are we graced with superior pizza and bagels here in the garden state, not far from my domicile lies in wait an open park where you are allowed to scavenge the brook bed (‘river bed’ sounds so much better but I don’t want to cast illusions as to me braving rapids, where I am braving perhaps my knee getting splashed), so you can actively look for fossils, yes, actual fossils, I have made a plethora of finds over the years, and even a piece I donated to a local museum due to it’s rarity and importance, but just being out there makes me wonder, among the nature a conundrum, where is the line between hobby and calling, or is there a line at all? this is my tuning fork or a place, we resonate, I feel at home, ankle deep in silty mud, spying a tray of gravel looking for millions year old treasure that is only really worth as much as stone, the exhilaration of the find, regardless of size, smaller than a dime, or smaller but still the thrill, or is this juxtaposition merely glaring to my position, here in my office, banging out the service calls and sorting through code, I can see out the window the sun, and how green the leaves have become, and I know I will blink, and the leaves will be gone, what about me?
notes… this is more of a diary post, still stream of consciousness about being… in a stream… go figure…
in the awakening
might I tread lightly on
as the sky explodes with dreams
spread tethered out on cotton streams
a requiem for a thief,
for I am-
a consumer of all things
until I become threadbare, myself
a baron of composition
bereft of fruit
to wither into the aether
to claim my time
to cling to life
I, survive.
notes… we slide in and out of this existence to fast in cosmic time… I hope this is just a train stop in the converging line of time and dimensions…
oh dear fair moon
might I take a bite of advice
for how did you appear
in the middle of my day sky
but I suppose
you are always there
with a certain-curtain pull back
so how do you bare, then?
the view,
not ever an interloper
nor a guardian at our door
a lone-cold observer
from shore to shore,
sights from rocky atolls to fading cliffs
the observances of millennia-
maybe this is jealousy?
I’d invite you to dinner
to hear the stories of your grand tour
but can not trade for that
to bear the calamity that will ensue
so, alas, stay where you are
perhaps another lunar trip will do
oh my dear fair moon
our singular notion
our most loyal companion.
I look up, to you.
notes… the day moon always gets my eye, I call this style stop and start, like letting the words flow and then turning the faucet off suddenly, not a staccato like I do sometimes, this is deliberate to show chain of thought, or at least that is what I am going for, kind of like a fence, a smooth line and then a post… if that makes sense, if it does not, I suppose you will just move on… as always, all comments are appreciated.
the house of lost souls
for am I faint
my words are thoughts
only whispers in drought
carry-on in the airy realm-
for my feet are not on this ground,
my body-
but a fading shroud
a lone sense
a vague sense of place
for I was attached to but a name
now my shackle is curious bound
round the round I orbit this base
just past the touch
in the realm between
of know and known
this is this place, my home
notes… we are, in many ways a beautiful culmination a molecular miracle generation, but we are also temporal, how do we as thinking beings reconcile this? I don’t know… I know religions cover this, but how can a religion formed by us in these scant few years of human existence on this one planet, in the infinity of space, cover this? wrapping our heads around impossibility or inevitability is anathema to the human mind… because we want to survive just as the simple bird does hatching eggs in spring… that thread binds all living things, is that god speaking to us? I guess I will have to wait for my end for a real answer… or none… hence the conundrum…
in the miles of the blue
pointed eyes navigate the blur
imagine skimming
skipping along
like a trance
or a song
spinning through the air
darting among
with thrush
and a rush,
bobbing for air
when the need arise
coursing, like a vein
these are the days of pure freedom
swimming in unison
with my brethren
in these miles of the blue
stretched out in all directions
so,
if we truly are-
dust.
then we may be familiar
you and I
embraced within the landscape
for eternities
pebbles on the shore- once
we were meant to meet
in this life
of that
my heart
my love
I am sure
if only that
I am sure.
notes… almost a lost love letters post which I am known for (well at least by three people or a little more) but this one… felt more general, I am thinking about pre life here… and after life… we are molecules, we have a physical component, so maybe we met before, on a beach, is that a reach? not to me, it makes perfect sense, maybe our attraction to each other is molecular… and ancient… and beyond what we think we know, we know so little, but don’t tend to really think about it… all stuck on this magic marble… spinning in some in•fin•i•tes•i•mal section of the universe… can we be that small ? no, we are that small, but that does not mean we have not met, a million thousand times before, why else do we coalesce now ??? your thoughts and comments are always appreciated… thanks.
so let me sit here for awhile-
longer-
to figure out
to ponder-
how to redo the past
to undo the done
and so frozen
watching the footage
over and over
always the same ending
but expecting a new one
notes… I know I am my own worst enemy… how do I battle myself, when I know myself so well.. perhaps that is true of us all… I try, I fail… but I know, I know I can try harder… so why don’t I? I know the clock is ticking, I fear it…. I know it… our lives are so finite and short… and we never know what is around the next corner, I am near the fifty year mark but still don’t live like tomorrow is the end.. I should, I know I should, “I should”… maybe that will be on my gravestone if I opt for one.. to mark a spot,.. but why bother… who will come.
are we fibers
or just strings
or links in a chain
I wonder
as I hold you closer
I imagine
we begin to combine
at the molecular level
can we now pass through each other?
or simply merge
for a moment
two spun as one
no wonder
the separation
feels
as this does
notes… lost love letters staccato style (as I call it), I am very aware of rhythm in my words and flow… maybe it is all in my head, sure, but those who get it are wired into my frequency, I do not expect that to be everyone, just you, so thanks for the time, any and all comments are appreciated
Shades of My Garden 