a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart
Author: David Koblentz
Inspiration is a fickle muse. Sometimes empty, sometimes overwhelming. These words I write are my own but they seem driven by something else (perhaps?).
into the dying sun for there will go I even the sun must, all sons will die I turn to hope, to retain
the well is running dry for mother is recalling her precious resource reclamation to imbue the cosmic womb with the life of another death and incubation are stages, gemini the well runs deep now the well is running dry so I will dig deeper the work is harder, but familiar hands harden like wood, with age nails rotten with dirt – under, itches as long as there is the energy the breath to drift in a beating heart within this chest
a raven stands over a puddle and for a moment catches a reflection
I sure love me a cup of joe, or three, but I mostly begrudgingly hold the urge down to two daily, my preferred coffee of convenience is Bustelo, in the K cup (because you know, making a cup of coffee is such a chore), columbian roast is good, espresso roast – a little better, if I am out and about I do like Starbucks, whatever dark roast they have on tap for the day, one stevia, skim, just a dash, for color I think, or maybe I like the cool bloom the milk makes as it mushrooms up from the bottom of the cup, I have little stops by some of my accounts around the NYC/NJ area, gorilla in brooklyn(ok, a bit pretentious but great brew – the maple latte slays), joe coffee in manhattan, haylee’s in wayne nj (RIP), red pipe in forest hills, cafe grumpy in greenpoint (their turmeric lemonade in the summer… oy…), and all sorts of other spots in between, sometimes I get kona from this little stand in hawaii, got turned on to it years ago, kona is the best smelling coffee (just not as strong as some caffeine wise, and heck, sometimes, OK, most of the time I want that kick as well as the robust waves of flavor to savor), reminds me of which, my cup, sitting there on my desk, quite empty, screaming for a fill, or is that my internal coffee fiend prowling the dark sidewalk corners looking for a score, no matter, quarter after 4, time for one last more, of that liquid happiness in a tin cup, my coffee. Things I recommend (not sponsors or pay links, you get my advice for free…)
notes… hey ! I like your thoughts, your comments, your mind, your eyes… heck, all of it… so thanks for the look the read, the moment, I am like that chocolate box Forest Gump was obsessed with… you never know…. and that is what you should expect…. internet gurus be damned, this is me, deal.
the allure of still of silence of a moment spent in one count in one breath.
notes… in the middle of a maelstrom, or a just life, pause, such simplicity, such elicit power to be had over situations, there is calm in this world if you just let it speak to you… so listen…
kiss of a sunset to quiet the gears that grind I shall remember
behind a grand tree light slides in the afternoon I take a deep breath
kiss of a sunset absorbs all my creation palms cleansed by water
and shall I count now each of these unto my lips for never lasting
notes… OK… sometimes I snuggle up to haiku… basho is awesome I must admit, I am usually mr. freeform but sometimes something triggers that itch of the japanese verse variety… work was dragging… I could feel it drowning me (my fault), looked out the window, the sun was setting (early this time of year) right behind a big old tree and some buildings, and it gave me pause… and a reprieve, silver linings indeed…
up that same stretch the same pavement different constructions signs perhaps the same general perception some time has passed enough to grow a beard, maybe slightly longer than that there is a different feel yet the birds still sway back and forth over the meadowlands over the roadway like giant hollow swings billboards, toll booths wet with new year rain the same the same as last year’s rain as far as I can tell – I await for a thread of sunshine
notes: this is a feel thing, this was my first day back at the office in a month, since I had covid and since my father passed, you almost expect the world to be different, you feel different, you look at things differently, but everything else, feels the same or acts that way, so I wanted this work to be… mundane…
in the presence of the sons in the presence of the brothers a long witness, my mother a wife for five half score and two; all of us here, under the all-mighty eye of g-d to return this vessel these building blocks into the earth herself for today – I buried my father.
I did not inter love, nor thoughts nor a lifetime of memories – for even death, can not purge those safe, in the deepest corridors of our hearts
those standing, those left those knowing for a piece of him resides within you all, now rejoice in this, take solace in this in time you will know this to be a guiding lantern to purge any darkness
so I wish him farewell, for now until we will meet again in some other place a dimension we do not quite yet comprehend of this I am certain a calm of peace has settled in within these thoughts
goodbye, my father, for I will see you again and thank you for the gifts you left for me the ones you taught, in imperfection in perfect humanity I say goodbye to you, my father with love – your son, always- your son.
notes… this post is one of my toughest on a personal level (obviously), I thought about not posting it, but this is what hit me @ 4am this morning, I rolled out of my non sleeping bed and wrote these words, before the funeral, the nervous energy I had was overwhelming, or was it dread? I do not know, I have not lost someone so close to me, as I have said in the past I have been lucky to be so untouched by the craven hand of death, but not so, and I knew it was coming at some point… but nothing prepares you for the reality, the customs, the going through, the physical steps to the grave site, the hole, a literal hole with a casket, the dirt in a dominant pile, the cold grip of it all, as if this was a fantasy burial, the sky was mostly blue, there was a cold wind, we were in woodbridge nj but might as well have been in the middle of anywhere, vast and wind swept, I could not speak, I thought it would take forever but as over too soon, but there is nothing you can do, except release and accept helplessness, and just turn back to those you love…
the gist: in the pretty near future our internal house walls will be screens, and then scenes as we choose, this is one of those, autumn to me, captured simply in my backyard, the colors, the leaving of the leaves, the fading, the feeling that comes before sleep, the quiet, but still life persists… this is my thoughts on this, so maybe, perhaps, open up a screen a laptop as big as you can, just play the clip and maybe you will transport my brain waves for a bit, here in New Jersey, to me, remarkable, in the unremarkable – for those without a miracle discerning eye, the subtle, the calm, the life… enjoy.
among the heavenly bodies we round cycles orbits life rises, drowns and rises again all in this procession far flung on the flight wing of a galaxy cast out in an endless ocean can this be the only outpost of hope? of life? in all this, just a drift an arm, a wisp of stars our star, the one the one we call, the sun which has defined our direction for all time such as can be counted and summed in the presence of the sun gives us a center a ballast a balance, with focus a singular form in the form we always have known our nook, our den our private fortress this little blue marble of life a miracle boat afloat in just this time in my eye to our minds tethered to a galaxy drifting our fate lie and awake open and closed in mother’s eye all in this – the presence of the sun.
are we a marker, an outlier, an anomaly, can we be? just this little branch, this dash, this splash of hope dangling off a limb of one of endless-countless galaxies, can we be alone, even in our own stretch of these woods? the possibility, yes, the possibility is there, but I choose to believe otherwise; why? I could argue the numbers, the sheer amount of possibilities that lay forth with such numbers bound out into infinity, but something inside, a gut, a feel, an instinct, maybe foolish pride, maybe I want to believe we are not just dust on a mere wind blowing by, sure, that is a fair assessment, but what else? can we pretend to know everything, in our little stint, our production run here, the perspective is almost hard to fit, not long ago this was it, terra firma, just the earth, and now the discussions turn towards mars and beyond, but these are just the closest neighbors, there is so much more, where the voyagers have now gone, barely a scratch off the heliosphere, can this twist of tiny now fate be all? the trinkets on my mantle tell a story of a life that will be swallowed and gone, blink, and yet, we live on, multiplying, generations like a constant beating heart of creation, our self importance tethered to a rock, rolling around a common star, ours, as if the sun will blink when we are gone, or just continue on, until she too runs out of the gift, the surge, the power, the sheer will of chemical interactions will cease, and then what of these, these stories, these lives, what will survive if not beams, remnants, something beyond what can be held in hands and hearts, something more, something higher, and how will we know this transformation or communicate with the others? or is there nothing, just nothing, perhaps. but I would rather invest in the wavelength, the energy ribbon, the promise, of hope. of life. for we are alive now, nothing can change that, not even the stoppage of time, so I believe, choose to believe, we survive.
if I could book a ship a trip to the moon to the stars no, beyond to float to soar escape humanity and the laws time and gravity the helix that binds release me from these bonds to soar to seek to feel the universe upon my hands, my feet yes, a road a path the guide of mind downloads a map a compass of consciousness glide a mind among the stars and what I may find – there – a realm of infinite possibility and life – my family.
Shades of My Garden 