the house lights brighten
the curtain parts-
here, in the fifth opera house,
of pleasure and play
of all the land
of all the provinces, gathered
this, the palace of laughter
the full heart of performance
as the celestial procession
orbits around
this heavenly sun
projecting with Such radiation
until all is burned
and the fuels of fame-
are gone
doubt.
a servant
of my own inner evictions
the tenant
of the superintendent of my soul;
I say a prayer for the least
not believing that I might be
just this-
notes… sometimes I neglect this and let you think for yourself… and you should… but the second line is something I do on purpose (or my mind does) that takes an “expected” and makes it something else, so to me it calls two things at once, usually the phrase would be “inner convictions” so I wanted to turn that over internally… because we are all the wardens of our own prisons, truly, but where does the freedom come in… there is always boundaries… but where and when… I don’t have it all figured out, but that is what I want you to think about (and other things, but that was just the first two lines)…
the currency…
I suppose I never thought about certain things certain ways, of course we are like a bank, a vault, a collection of our own experiences, constant deposits, some large, some small, we withdraw on them to paint a picture for some other, so they might notice our branch, or just to show off, or help someone, all these can be true without over drafting the other, I am starting to notice the value of my currency, but more so when I put the effort in to earn it, forcing myself to take advantage of the day light hours, to seek out all the little parks, brooks, creeks, lakes and beaches that are all around me, can I claim obliviousness? perhaps… but in the day and age of this day and age with all information really just a click away? (eh, probably not) so what if I am no lewis and clark-esque explorer, or columbus, we are to ourselves our own country seeking land to plant our flag, even if for a moment, so that is what my quest has been of late, to not ignore the wonders all around here in my little state (larger than some, population certainly), and I have been surprised how much was in plain sight, or just around the next bend, right in front of me all this time, all I had to do was take a sliver of time, step outside, make a plan, and go! not every adventure has been great or even an adventure at all, some took great pains to find the damn place with not much payoff, but the experience does pay off, my inner crypto on the uptake, my stock rising, from the experience of trying, one day, I hope, I can travel further, all over the world even, but even right here in my little corner of the earth there is so much dirt I have not tread, so many trails not traveled, so, in the meantime before I go on a global tour, I should learn to love the local land that much more, and the value in that, is my currency.
crescent moon winks…
under the slight eye
of a crescent moon
an aspiring father
wonders-
for he knows
as soon as spring is here
so too- summer is already gone,
to know he is tasked to teach-
this among other truths-
but one can only prepare, one
for the wilderness ahead,
protect and incubate
in just time-
for the father is only-
human as well,
travelling through
his own time-
(looking skyward now)
of all the wisdom
of a sun enlightened moon
can not impart the tale
of a billion years
or even, just, one.
dinner last night…
the passage of time is sometimes a blur, sometimes an accumulation, sometimes sudden, so here I am, well was, having dinner last night with my mom and my brother, at a familiar place, one I actually saw open back in the day, and man… that almost hurts to say “back in the day”, when I was in college, in new brunswick, almost, no, really a different lifetime back then (different person but the same?), but then here I am, back in the same place, that was once new and fresh, the toast of the town, a home run, a hit, and now sadly seemingly on the down slope of things, and my instincts scream “how can this be?”, but honestly? how often have I been, back here, I mean except now and again, what was once an upstart revolution is now an institution, I love new and exciting places but sometimes want to hold others to their past pillars, to remain the same, nothing does, nothing can, the world changes, menus have to rotate and evolve like the world, this place once had a beautiful-bound-book like menu, practically, worth reading on it’s own, the charm, the feel in my hands, the smell, the strangeness of having the vast dessert menu up front page one, and now, just a single sheet and a qr code, I understand the why, but somehow still pine for the then, even if that holding on might contribute to the end of said…
‘a monday in a college town in the summer’, I tell myself, as if I fail to recognize the lack of parking spots as other places have filled up all around, or perhaps don’t notice that every other place I remember from those years has changed hands half a dozen times or so, no, I guess, somehow, in my wiring, I expect the comfort of certain things to just retain or remain, no, they can not, this goes against the nature of everything, of time itself, so that is how we become a relic, relying on the infrastructure of the familiar, yes, this makes us easy to digest time as time is literally passing without notice to us, but how do we maintain the balance, new and old, what is new is not always better, nor is that which is old, better is better, so better to have the taste buds sharp, eyes of a hawk, and figure out which is superior – now, in the moment, for that is the only measure of time we can savor, if only for an instant, the flavor.
the dinner- my birthday, one more than 49, some milestone, I wonder what will change, if anything, or is this just another day in the chain, or will I learn something, from this refrain.
moon pull.
“straight ahead half luna shines”
as if to remind us
the pull and ways of tide
the constant wax and wane
how sunlight plays with shade
and in all angles exist
where your eyes are fixed
in the moment.
restless…
I wish I could close my eyes and see the entire world, but could I? could I handle such vision? we have such a limited view master but feel like we know so much but yet we literally, by design, see so little, our field of vision, is just a sliver, our reality is so filtered, through our two little single k-cup filters, even when we look out upon a vast space it measures nothing in terms of real distance, so do we just find our happiness in this space, or like emotional colonizers do we venture out into manifest destiny, to expand our borders are far as met? to what end? does it matter if you find a home now or then – or just find one with happiness in the hearth, and be content. (I am asking, because I sure as hell do not know the answer)
notice, on the window, fleeting
beads of rain, gathered
from the night before
hanging on
the under window
ledge
waiting
to evaporate-
(and with that, some time later
I noticed, all were gone)
notes: to me, this is what Haiku means to do… form or not…
good-voyage’
best face forward-
“So may I present to you…”
on the prow, my lorelei-
extrovertial journey
so I may huddle inside
hunkered down, for the storm,
with my mirror, clutched, in my arms
with- cloistered eyes
an anchored self.
Notes… I am not broken down, to the level I should be, the honesty, no, I still wear a mask, I still play the play even if I am not me every day, and most people consider me the most open mouth honest fuck they ever met, but yet, I have my doubts, my fears, my regrets, like a cart of goods I carry around, I know I should shred all my shroud and so should everyone, but we are not babes in the woods… and somehow we let the world wear us down.
thoughts… from the porch
there does not always have to be a sunset…
sure, the postcard is nice, the dream, what we are told is the model, the perfection, but, the feeling is the same, sitting here on my porch with my brandy new torch (well, it is a lantern but that didn’t rhyme with porch – actual photo), so… just watching the world wind down, the day sounds mold into the night ones, with the occasional interloper, a cardinal that seems frantic for some reason bounding around the little branches of my japanese maple, but then the heavy humidity of the cricket chorus starts to chime in, the sun’s minions, arms, tentacles, tabernacles of light, slowly melting behind the neighbor’s house, not as spectacular a sight as a celestial glowing ball lighting up the sky with all manners of hue, but this will suffice, almost like a slow bleed, a slow retreat, inch by inch by feet, allowing the heat to escape up into the coming night, knowing in my head this is really just the world spinning in a certain direction does not distract me from the sensation of my ethereal reaction, because such things are defined and so well blueprinted out does not make them any less amazing, so it back, and listen, observe, there is wonder even in a hidden sunset.
Shades of My Garden 
