star light.

star light.

when all the stars fade
and are gone
for we will not know
that the end
has already come;
left to linger here
for this news
in this bath
of our own unknown-
with that end
speeding towards us
an end already ordained
for us;
nothing to do
nothing can not be as done.

These words came to me as I was driving in twilight, the minivan in front of me I noticed, had a custom license plate
THNKUGD
and a handicapped sticker, I smiled, maybe I will enjoy this a bit longer, tonight.

shadows cast.

shadows cast.

shadows cast
where they may reside
measures the distance
drawn out from the sun
intoxicated by spin

so here I am
on the days where
they pull longer

notes: do shadows influence us? subconsciously? I was driving to work and this revelation sort of washed over me… I mean I had the time to think about it being stuck in traffic.. but noticed how the shadows have been creeping one way, it all seems so sudden if you pay attention, the pavement is nearly a mirror, the earth does what the earth does… shadows are like anything else of matter, they want more, or is that our own protection, a backup drive for our bodies from the sun ?

open my eyes.

open my eyes.

the sun bends down behind the tree
across the street
the framed art of a human hand
the manufactured flags of man
how quickly they retreat,
oh my sweet september,
as the summer drawn down
the pure magic spent on children’s time
the rise of the spent in the basking of souls
as all things, as all close-
so to another summer fades
behind the tree, bowing
across the way there
a wish to catch each ray,
close my eyes
catch the glow under lid
feel the warmth as long as been
and a smile
and a sigh
contentment in the passing
a few deep breaths to utter thanks
and then, I move on, that is the way of time.

the arrival…

the arrival…

the arrival, the wind passing through the catacombs of the trees, dark shimmering waves in night, this really seems as if I should have some understanding, the sound does not seem random, but not quite planned but? is there a voice in there, language, some message? no. a song, played on the leaves as they are now, past the zenith of the beaming sun, soon to be done, a cold wind, not the refreshing one that cools in the beating sun, a chill pervades, not a warning, a harbinger for what must be, for yes, fall is coming if not already here, but my nature app does not alert me, I just have the senses given to me and the years of my own personal observation to inform me, this is one of those nights, there will be spikes, exceptions, last blazes of glory worthy of dragging all the accoutrements of peak summer out for one more time, one more shake of the sand out of pockets and crevices, maybe two, maybe three, the warm ocean water like a welcome memory, holding on to that energy quite literally in the bones of salt, and the breeze again passes, I struggle to listen, to the song, a hymn? no, a funeral dirge, but not one unexpected, not one of melancholy, no, just what must be in the natural order of things, my urge, the immediate surge is to want to fight this, the boy with his finger in the dike, the impossible odds, the romance of it, the lack of reason, but surrender feels so unnatural even when circumstance dictates that you sit back and allow the tidal wave to wash right over you.

worth: only in time

worth: only in time

to close my eyes, and bathe in the myths of my age, walk through the rows, the pillars of truth that hold, arise this sweet tent, with pinholes to the sky, pathways to stories, just a passer by am I, or through, I will not know until destination met, how confident and prideful we are, the content of common knowledge, the hubris of assumption, ten or twenty or one hundred million pass, and where is the meaning written, species reigned for millions, the remains of king’s of various ages, just vestiges, baubles, curiosities, collectibles, will our mass be the same, bones in the mass grave that is this land, the fairest arbiter of all, to produce all life and then swallow said whole, to endure another run, I wonder what is worth more, a recipe for perfect chicken soup or the entire lexicon of the english language.

a coruscant dawn

a coruscant dawn

coruscant

kə-rŭs′kənt

once we are untethered from this land, this earth, this gentle crust that has so cradled us, bound not by laws of man and nature, released from the bonds of gravity, perhaps only privy to the forces that guide energy, there is only the all night, daunting, no, the canvas on which, for there is no sunset there, out there, beyond our protective dome, in the complete dead calm sea of everything, space, space unto space into never ending expansion, and we shall go, maybe there are shepherds there as well, certainly paths to go, but no, there are no sun sets there, and no true to us eyes to see them, there is only dawns, perpetual on different spectrums, distance means nothing when time means nothing, and there we will be, drifting in a sparkling sea, a divine conjuring of a coruscant dawn

the inner circle

the inner circle

:pause, even here,
in one of my openly secret places I come
the cliffs of calvert
tower above the bay
as always I remember them
except window dressing
now and then, the light, the waves
or a plate of near glass
but in either way, a welcome hearth
I could go a whole universe
and not feel so loved by the earth
in just a coordinate, a spot on a map,
here;
so I pause,
watching the smallest of waves curl in from afar
like a sweeping hand, over and over arcs
a consistent caress under our single star, warming late summer
I see and hear the clamor of the bits of broken shells
for the whole ones stay calmly together, for now
I pick a piece up, for no other reason
no impetus, but for the random chance
and see the lines, the stark colors
the circles and invisible lines, and I think of the sky
the planets
how even saturn, or jupiter or
the other less famous suitors of fame
the hue’s house of colors,
the patterns, the swirls, the same
all right here, like little broken dull mirrors
lying about on this gentle shore
for me to find, and realize
I need not travel far to this wonder far
and feel the rush and thrust of creation
in all the broken pieces, out about my feet
as they are wound down to once more become
again recreated,
perhaps stardust for another beginning,
here, in my hand, all of history from death to birth.

Notes… although I had a terrible sinus infection most of the week I still came back from my annual trip to the cliffs a newly charged battery, perhaps a little wiser, smarter, calmer… until the grinder chews me up again, and then I will be due for my yearly appointment to those shores… a calling.

the gathering…

the gathering…

age, like time, is funny in some way, not laugh out loud, or ironic, just how, like water over a rock, or wind spilling over a rocky outcrop, how time erodes and molds your perception throughout, age, a birthday, a long way from those days, of silly burger king crowns, roller skate parties at roller usa, or perhaps bowling, I missed out on the bouncy house phenomena, that was saved for only carnivals and festivals back in my dawning days, but things are all relative, when you are a kid there is such a feeling of the infinite, but somehow, time and age – they whittle this down, to real numbers, not that I am counting, not that I can count, but the perception, the grasp now of dwindling moments is there seemingly in my very hands, so, yes, another birthday (not today, you can hold your well wishes, thanks), but back in August (Leo proud), another birthday, things have been so sparse in these covid gripped years, the fear has splintered everyone down to basic units or less, a night out to dinner once so mundane now seems like a special occasion, or even just oddly strange, and even now as things slowly slide back into the normal, so I picked a place, an old haunt, from my college days, down in New Brunswick, I played to my audience, knowing there would be something on the menu for everyone, that everyone not being a large crowd, not at all, but why put out anyone through a compromise, even if this a day ‘for me’, something I rather do not like on the whole anymore actually, but there is here, this gathering, just myself, my slightly older brother and my aged mother, the first dinner out together I think in some time, without my father, who by circumstance was devoured by the covid plague, one day he slipped and fell, hit his head, at 84 you take no chances, went to the hospital, got covid there, in less than a week – dead, that was almost two years ago now, but somehow this still had the feel of strange, all that is left is us three, covid seems to have distilled the rest of the family down to just this, no gatherings or holidays, all missed by mandates, and fears, and precautions, and maybe some were or are happier this way to be truthful, rid of the bonds they had to endure just by birthright or marriage, how quickly the unit seemed to fall all apart, that many less times together, perception, the counting, as one generation marches into the dirt and my own path looms closer, there is only so many times this casual dinner may occur, perhaps the only function of a birthday with which I concur, for at least I get this, a simple indulgence at best but stamped indelibly with an invisible number as we never know what fate may bring, but we know fate will arrive at our door, hoping for more is not a bad thing I surmise, but also keep your eyes open and recording the happening of now, like a film so you may return to it again, mind, the lives in your immediate orbit, and take a deep dive into these moments, especially at gatherings such as these- as mom orders some key lime pie, my brother eyes a classic slice of ny cheesecake, and I settle in with a nice cappuccino with a rock candy stick to swirl clinking the glass as the sugar dissolves, the meal seemed to take forever and a moment, and now it is gone, one more down, I hope for more to come but I will always at least settle in happiness with at least the next one.

quip

quip

’tis the oldest desire
the oldest sin
in the world of men
to live and live again

I was watching the first episode… and these words came to me, dreams… fantasy… our lives… tethered in belief, belief that we are going to last for all time, but all evidence seems other, but there is always that itch, that hope… within us all, and the greatest sin, perhaps, is not accepting our temporal anomaly….
cast away.

cast away.

the waning late summer sun
resting on the face
of a golden still pond
this- is- calm… (pause; inhale… hold… hold… exhale…)
“pinch me my darling,
for surely I travel in the realm of dream”
but no, a sweet captive
of the great blue marble
cast out upon the blackest sea.

notes.. and never forget, we are all on the miracle ball, sure, other life is probably out there but hey, for all we know right now we might be alone, and this is the gift of our home, the goldilocks zone, this wonderful place, even the grittiest corners are better than the alternative but we should strive to bring light to all… at least that is what I see when I catch a quick reflection of a sunset in a pond off the parkway on the way home, horrid traffic, angry drivers, asphalt plows that have flattened forests, but nature still remains, look around… (and this piece wrote itself when I was driving home on the parkway tonight, right before exit 135 (clark) there is a body of water, a pond I suppose, not sure, but it is there, I would love to photograph it, or film it, but pulling over there would be dangerous, but it looks so alluring every day, it makes me smile, the sun setting over this little unknown body of water, regardless of what is going on in the world, there is windows there, thanks to nature, look through them for a little relief… the opportunities are there)