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…
new year drive
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.
in the presence of the sun
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.
the winter wind bites
makes no sound
except through my bamboo
the only leaves left
I see limbs bend and move
I listen for their aches n groans
(as in my bones)
the grass is stopped
frozen
even the sun-
even the sun is drained
bright, illuminated on surfaces
but cold
as if the moon had a forest – once
slowly exhaling
inside, so quiet now
so many voices
but so quiet now
the isolation of flame
so gather
the few that remain,
huddle, huddle with me
I wish I might be, a simple painted turtle, sitting on a rock, in a glacial lake, the telegraphed waves just under my eyes, on occasion breaking their horizon causing an instinctual slow graceful wink motion like window shades rising, stoic, as the sun, as the stars, as the moon, pass on by above in an arc, not aware of time, as this procession prances on above, not aware of, the course of, meteor showers, comets, planets, or actual counted hours, just a personal picked patch of rock, jutting just slightly above the water, a vantage point, a peak, an observation deck, in the one perfect spot, I have found for now, by luck or circumstance or guile, to stretch my neck out just so, above the subtle tide, taking in air as needed, never more, never less, balanced breathing, watching the lights grow and stretch out over time, to the heavens and down into the water beneath in depth, reflections, stoic, timeless, a simple painted turtle, on my rock, witness, beneath the heavens, the earth tethered below in water, without a judgement in sight, I wish I might be at such peace, for a time. (exhale)
I now have become one of those stories, you don’t expect it, maybe you do, I did not after all these months, but things happen, life really does just happen sometimes, suddenly, you know this, you prepare for this, but steering a ship in the middle of a sudden tempest is the only way you understand this experience fully, a knot, a grinding stone in my bowels, waiting for the call, all life ends, but when you make that decision, I can not fully explain the feeling yet… I have often said, and it is very true, my life has been relatively free of tragedy and death, there is no rhyme or reason for this, no cruel hand, no benevolent marker, just the luck of the draw, incredible luck, as billions of years of the universe have led to this moment, or moments, sitting here, sitting still but still pacing, having a glass of bourbon to calm my nerves, heart still racing still, a not so routine hospital visit a few weeks ago that might have worked out fine, upended by the virus which has diverted the cart from the road to wellness, I have been anticipating my parent’s generation to start falling for some time, and some have here and there, and now my personal story becomes part of the fabric of this pandemic, I was never blasé about the virus, I always looked @ the numbers with logic, the vast majority of those infected survive but the vulnerable populations are just that, vulnerable, and even here as we embark on the gateway of a vaccine – it seems that much more cruel, but a virus has no eyes or a heart, I am lucky that I was able to make a last visit and let my father ‘face time good bye’ many close relatives, so, I know, many people did not have that chance, I am thankful for that, and now, I try to astral project myself into the hospital room now, as I sit here not sleeping, in my mind, I am sitting next to him, holding his hand and letting him know I am there, “dad, I’m here”, I see this so clearly, all the details of the room and the warmth of his hand, somehow hoping the universe will carry my message to his mind’s ear – somehow, is this prayer? I suppose, in my own way, so, now, we wait, for the inevitable full end, the one we signed off for just hours ago, waiting for the call, waiting for the call, late into this night, isolated from all those we love, leaving a loved one isolated to leave this world alone, waiting for the call.
I do not write this for your sympathy (I appreciate your decency, thank you, I do but that is not the purpose of this piece), more for those who may be or have experienced the same. This has been a trying day, making decisions and the speed they are implemented is dizzying, more life altering scenes happened in a smattering of mere hours than I can even digest now, so I had to write it out, at least what I can handle @ this hour. I would like to send a personal thanks to the staff @ JFK Hospital in Edison NJ.
Shades of My Garden 