for those who don’t know, my job has me all over the tri-state area, for those who grew up in this area this means NJ.NJ,PA… so when I am out and about I try to seek out various parks and beaches near my work location to “find” in my lunch break (or after hours)… I try to record at least 10 minutes at every location on my Youtube page. My Youtube page has other things as well but I thought, for inspiration you should just check out the nature stuff, if you want to check out the other stuff, fine enough… but I want to provide scenes for inspiration that you can see… like this…
why-not-ku?
with west warming winds
the whole of my yard- alive
robins have arrived
for those who stayed here
the sun is a bit brighter
like you, my cardinals
but each of you feast
a seed buffet on a line
the squirrels are aware
and of course they try
the professional acrobats
spin, fall, leap- repeat
spoils on the ground
the mourners pay their respects
the sparrows up next
all gone in a blink
tempest leaves an empty husk
sundown, all to sleep
(and there is no sound, for now)
I used to be all against form, like why bother, it’s the construct holding you down! no… the more you learn about the world is sometimes working within the form is as anti form as just being chaos for the sake of it… form can produce excellent results if you are feeling it, being a slave to form ? ok, maybe not so much, but perhaps Basho and others might disagree, and their work stands as the evidence in that trial… there is also a really interesting tradition of japanese death poems, I was into that for awhile, before I was posting… maybe I will explore that again, it is worth putting on another’s skin to walk around time and again… everything is experience and is instrumental in understanding, sometimes it results in nothing, but at least you tried that road, turned around at the dead end, and then got back on the main one… there is lessons there in going off the map…
the keeper
time, everything we experience seems in the spell, in the capsule, in the bubble, in the cell, within our cells, there seems to be no escape aside from the obviously marked exit, but then? our short lives, comparatively speaking, to a star, or perhaps a cat should I be granted nine, aside from mine, by the divine force or whatever course brought all this to be, me, right here and now, a strange realization to realize your own self actualization, the sensation, I am born to be now, of all the tragedy and comedy and malady and joy that has abounded in this universal box, beyond our grasp of understanding but still a container no doubt, I swear I can almost hear the tick tock if I listen hard enough, or perhaps that is just my heart, how can I know when you are hearing a feeling? and why do I think of dali and clocks melting, or perhaps they are wilting from the pressure to hold up this entire thing… like the restless mind that will not rest, but set to contemplate, shuffling the rubik’s cube around except there is no solution known, or is there, how can I be different than the billions before me, but I am not, but somehow that instinct is sewn into my soul, just the evolution of the survival mechanism or something deeper, taken from the grains of creation itself, how will I ever know, until I cross that great rubric, that bridge, as we all go, but by then, far too late an hour, to find the answer and let my mind rest upon the ultimate knowledge, the understanding of time, if only I could grab the ear for a millimeter, exist in a moment without time, even for a second, maybe that is what the end is truly like, but we are left to wonder, wander and ponder, until the time arrives (and allows you outside).
what can I say, I would love to tell you can think outside the box.. me as well, but get used to it, no, we are in a box, the box of time, there is no escape, but there is also no experience of now without that constraint… my mind is a puzzle eater, maybe not your typical diet, I wish I could forget and just enjoy the ride, but I just am not wired that way, regardless of the pathways I try… all I know is what I know, I am here now… for a blink I think but to a second that is an eternity, but then… is there such thing as eternity ? or just perpetuality… all things existing and folding back on themselves in motion… ? thoughts?
thoughts from… taking out the garbage after midnight…
the binding of a cloud, a framed sky, ‘how odd’ I think, as I plod through the mundane, a sunday night (technically monday morning), a must have for dragging out the garbage bin to the curb, the convenience we forget, the mechanisms we set, all the same by scale I suppose, I imagine an ancestor had to rake the coals to keep the fire going, or other such droll tasks as were needed, we just have upgraded versions now that separate us in levels from the land I suppose, I wonder if the lot of us was required with our plot of land to produce a certain level of edible vegetation, would that lead to more appreciation? there is a level there of making, instead of taking, and humility might be in the soil somewhere, the ground, the earth, quite literally as we work, the literal dirt under the nails, and I wonder why this is going through my mind in mere footsteps to the curb, and I look up again, the same cloud, framed there, as if bound, strange, there is a steady breeze, the new buds on the trees are vibrating, the tall ministers of the forest towering over my house are swaying, but yet this cloud just hangs there, job done, garbage can on street, back into the house – to sleep.
note… yes, sometimes I think things when doing mundane things, is that my thing? I dunno.. I just write, it is what I do, good, bad or indifferent, I breathe
elegant rhapsody
just a guitar and a song
a strum, nothing more
a simple melody
to speak to your mind
filter down to your soul
a simple melody
to transport your world
might the voice tend
all of your earthly needs
for a time
a simple melody
a best friend to stop on by
the comfort in a tune
played just for you
a simple remedy
for all that ails
morning, night, and noon
notes… sometimes simplicity is the best ability we can convey and absorb…
thoughts… from the deck….
sometimes does rise great winds, they do not always bring a storm, a story perhaps, but just the language of the breeze without an erstwhile traveling companion such as downpour, sometimes fifty degrees is just warm enough, for whatever reason, after a season all couped up this is welcome addition to the night, the advantage of this time of year is quite clear, the insects have not yet come, so I can remain unmolested, even close my eyes, listen to the wind bending the wooden chimes that climb up skyward into this moonless night, I used to think, perhaps, there was a language to the trees, and the winds, and the ground, but that is such a human construct, I think, now, these days, maybe there is just more of an understanding, a balance, an equation so primitive to escape our clever machinations or possibility of expression, sometimes in darkness like this, I feel fear, whether real or realized, rational or not, but not tonight, just calm, the same calm that falls upon me upon the shore with the tide rolling in from the great atlantic, for I have never been to the other side, the pacific, but I do not say that with regret at this moment, maybe ask me tomorrow and my answer might be different, there is a slight chill in the air, but it does not penetrate, like when you open your freezer, there is almost a blanket there, of air, you can feel it park gently on your upper lip, you can even breathe it in, but the sensation is that of a fresh scent, not over powering, just enough to savor, looking at the trees, and the night, I wonder which came first, the eyes, or the ears, I suppose I could look such things up, perhaps the answer is even known, but to wonder about the first time something saw something or heard something or tasted this world, and how many mouths have taken in air that has circulated around the world for billions of years, this wind, maybe once part of a tornado, or just a late summer breeze cooling beads of sweat, or the flapping of a butterfly’s wings they say…
(for any newbs… I try to get out in my yard, or my porch and let the world come to me in words… this is one of those posts… been doing it for years, I recommend you do the same, surprise yourself…)
and the light beam strikes…
Staring out the window at work, a beam of the late afternoon sun took an angle, an angle directly to catch my eye and corral my attention, in that moment I heard an inner voice:
“for even fading light –
is light”
for the simple truths
can soothe, instantly
a smile, a satisfied sigh
all the dance of life
projected upon my eyes
of all the ills of this world
right now, I can think of none.
the darkness filter
if only we could install a simple filter, a physical barrier in a metaphysical way, like the ones in our homes or cars or, anywhere, to filter out the contagions meant to harm us, and those that are mere particles of dust, harmless to some, allergens to others, some meant not to harm at all but do by their very nature of interaction, could I impose this filter, not a dam to hold the everything back, a picky filter meant to pluck out the darkness that might infect, decay, inject or harm, remove the vile poisonous barbs, thoughts and words, not as shield to knock them down unheard, just a medium to purify before they penetrate our host, can this be accomplished with the power of thought, a mental state, a gate, a keeper, letting only in the passage of the best repute, or just those meant to heal, rise or bolster or guide, or come upon a grave sailor with a single coin in hand, only allowing passage to our personal island of heaven, or at least the best heaven we can provide, inside, our inner-eden, even if there is maintenance to do about this garden, let this be such a garden, a collection, one of the seven wonders internally nurtured by allowing just the warming light of the sun, and the cool light of late summer moon, with fireflies providing a spectacle amongst the midnight blooms, yes, let me close my eyes and pray this miraculous wonder into place, not a wall or a moat to tighten and surround in, a sieve of the finest kind, to let only in what love of vine, and that which ripens fruit glad and sweet, why not strive for this, a filter, the darkness filter.
SOC post… that is stream of consciousness ya ninny… meaning I had an idea in my noggin and let it bounce around, create a sound… and so hear it is… a good visualization for me, I think I have to try and change my filters in my head from time to time, a reset really, spring cleaning of the soul ? sure.
observations on the crooked tree (that overlooks the cemetery road)
up the tree
bent the curve
oh reverent mother
oh cruel earth-
“so what say you old man?”
(with hagard walk)
“alas,
youth can not be taught yet
to understand.”
notes… must be the time of year, inspiration, life abounds, driving on the parkway never had it so good, I wrote this in a blitz (5 minutes maybe?) pulled over at the clark rest area GSP south (a jersey thing), what is up with taking so long to replace the two rest areas on the GSP ? sheesh… I love my state, truly, but man alive the state can’t build a sand castle before the tide…
green bloom
almost as if immediately- (today)
I notice the green jump
flowing in on the edges
filling in the seams
I dream of the emerald isle
although I’ve never been,
the fringe of the landscape
taking shape now
rising up now,
the early signs did portend
and now the underlying
is undeniable-
the spring;
and the poor death-
of a cherry blossom’s plight
“you arrived too soon, my friend”
the party has just yet begun
and yet, there you are
scattered about the ground
falling like painted cards of rain
petals spent on trumpet sound-
yes, thank you, my friend
for sending out the invites
and setting the hall
for all the guests.
(thank you my friend,
I will see you next year, with renewed hope, again)
notes… this literally walked up on me… well, first off, for those not in the know, these are one offs, I write and am done, not a hard rule, but mostly my modus operandi, I want to capture my exact mood, not brood, so these pieces are really instant coffee (if you will), anyway, driving home tonight, I noticed how the banal aspects of my drive were … well, alive, like the little islands in between the highway divides, more green, so spring is here, I can not say it crept up but yet here I was… noticing the infringing green… and yet the decay of the harbingers… the daffodils are beginning to fade, the cherry blossoms are balding… so.. this is what this is about, I think… I might have woven some other things in there for you to think about…
Shades of My Garden 