there stands no reason
to interrogate the vulture
for we know where
his beak has been
in between
flesh and bone
in between.
-function;
not I, peacock.
question the nature of self, or at least look in the mirror for the reveal… so? what’s in your nature?
so I was getting out of work, about 7pm today, I worked late last night, got home past 1:30 in the morning, such is my life, not a complaint, just description for your edification, I was working last night in the bronx upgrading a supermarket computer system, I think people hear “the bronx” and have wildly different mental images, the bronx is as bad as you have heard and nicer than you may have heard, it all depends on where you are, I was in the morris park section, which (like Arthur Ave) is an old Italian section, so lots of lawns converted to concrete statues and such… but really a well kept nice neighborhood, anyway, back to today, our office is in Hackensack NJ, not exactly scenic, by any stretch, perhaps to a blind man with no sense of smell, but I digress, our warehouse/office is across from another (like an ugly mirror), so on the side street I was parked between the two buildings, for some reason, for some providence, the two owners planted cherry blossoms on both sides in parallel lines, much like washington DC if you have been, or even more local here in Jersey… so anyway, I took a moment to stop, ignore the concrete ugliness and take all this in (some deep breaths)…. and the words wrote themselves… which reminded me that this is spring…
white cherry blossoms
the first, are racing to bloom
the birds are singing
Notes.. I suppose I should have snapped a photo or two… maybe I will, but this does speak to the idea of adding beauty to the urban canvas… it works.
descent;
soaking in the last breaths
of the smoky slumber sun
sets.
Notes… just a quick glance at the sky while driving home, even after some forty odd years on this globe I can still be amazed, the days are nearly never the same, sometimes the paint up there is just different, all just moments, snap shots, moving pictures, shorts really, all stitched together in the feature that is our life, so sometimes you have to sit back and watch the dailies to see how the whole project is going…
twilight,
the time that lies
in-between
a choice?
no, that has been made
there is no fight to win-
just wait, just wait.
notes… that time there, in between, that moment between dark and light, death and life, we have no control, so why not observe the sublime beauty of the mechanism of old ?
wake wash rinse-
repeat
dress dash dapper-
neat;
the norm is
clocks do wane
race racing
the norm is-
death
notes… am I above the fray? the race? the rush? no… I am awash in it just the same as most, this does not mean I am unaware, I would love a world where I (and we) were all free to just do as we please, but that is not reality. there is no easy answer, I would say my advice to you (and me) is to find your refuge where you can, when you can, find a place either real or virtual or in your mind that is only yours (or those you choose to share with).
delivered from the ether
birthed onto this blessed vessel
celestial gestation,
my ordained time
to grow
seed to sapling
in this world- of- bones;
the very light of the only heaven
we know
projected onto our sacred ground
the giver of life
our only sun
so might I have this chance
this moment
a miracle –
in this- world of bones.
notes: revelation today… the words popped into my head for the past few days “this world of bones”… because that is all that is left, it is not a good record of the amazing life that has spread here, just in my short lifetime, or any time, the earth will be just a graveyard one day, even more than it already is with the dinosaurs and previous life forms… but for us… the bones will not just be our bodies but our buildings and thrivings, it will all end, and that is OK, that is the way of things, I fear for myself, of course, I don’t know how to square that peg, but I am not alone, we all have to meet that end, and so we will, I fear I will be lost to the ether, absorbed back into the universe that has no need for the meaning of me, and I will never know, I will just be gone, I hope, and pray that my spirit finds a place, but even the universe must end, and maybe that is what death is about, even the oldest thing, the only thing, must have a start and an end, this existence, my life, is no exception, but that does not make it easier to comprehend…the end.
(if there is such a thing)… and I would posit there is, if you lend an ear for a moment, there is a definite swing, I have tried over the passing years to bend my ear, sure, the life signs are easy, on the eyes, sprouts, buds, the gradual and then sudden greening just waiting around the corner, but the animals seem to know sooner as told by mother, they are more attuned to that clock, the real clock not our prison-ary twenty four hour capitulation, a slavery of sorts instead of passengers at port, the level of chatter is just that much greater, as if by a snap of the fingers it turns on, the volume is there for you to just listen, the land speaks volumes of volume, and so yesterday was that day, I noticed the uptick in banter, a robin dancing madly purposely across my yard, brazenly claiming a homestead there (apparently unaware of property laws), and even though today could be just short of miserable (a wash of grey and rain), the hope is there, I can hear it, and feel it…
wow…this has been awhile, seems like years since I had the simple pleasure of just sitting out here on my porch, listening to the world’s stories, observing them play out in motion, just letting my brain untangle and stretch out after these months of confinement that define the winter’s constriction, I concentrate on my breathing, a rhythm, a meaning, imagining I could slow my heart down and time itself in the process, so I might sample this, this moment, this all looks like silence, or would should be silence, but no, anything but, while in summer there is the constant harangue of nature, the buzzing of insects, crickets, birds chattering at late hours, ‘munks and squirrels pattering about, no, this is a wonderfully insect free time, and the animals seem subdued by their winter schedule, not yet born free into the renewal of spring, so you would think this would be a quiet time, no, not tonight, tonight is burdened with the sound of humanity, sure, not big city cacophony, but enough to disturb the peace, wind and me, just when I think there will be a break there is one, of the wrong variety, from cars shuttling home, to others seemingly racing to the moon, then, an almost horse hoof click clock sound, in this neighborhood ? Can’t be, but as my ears deceive I might imagine somehow an amish person is quite lost, at least they would be on the right coast, just a state over from lancaster proper, but no, the sound (as I found) was that of a kid on rollerblades, struggling to grind up the hill, it makes sense that there would be a rhythmic gate but I was amazed at how close a resemblance the click and spin of this human mechanism had to the trot of a horse on pavement, which I do hear once a year, down in cape may, and occasionally if I am in the city, so, at least for a moment I was distracted by other sounds, other than humanity, there is probably a lesson in there somewhere… but for now, I am just enjoying being outside without having to hurry inside, how 60 degrees seems like the tropics when just a few days ago there was ice and snow, so I know, to savor the moment, until just enough cold reminds me, a clock jumps back, the sun lingers, soon spring will burst forth and I will forget the dire season.
notes… for the unfamiliar (and judging by numbers that is at least a few million people…) this is a stream of consciousness experiment where I literally sit my ass down on the porch and write whatever comes to mind, sometimes it is profound, sometimes amusing, sometimes maybe not so much… but it is raw and whatever the world reports to me as a conduit…
so she appeared
in the now. brilliant room
time stops. spotlight on. traffic parts
these usual cliches. catch me off guard
this does not happen
not to me, at least
hence my confusion
frozen. in a situation
I was not expecting;
so has. halted breath
and eyes lock met;
I have to have her
when of course
she already has… me.
The green night-
the dawn will come to pass
the sunset will come to sleep
(as always)
a day’s peak, a night’s keep
for humanity shall perish from this earth
in the time allotted by the mighty clock
no matter what writ or ruin
or great constructs that bind the land
the green night will come
for return, to give back the same in hand
the very same blow
from which this world was wrought.
Shades of My Garden 