if even I could hold some semblance of my perception as a single grain of sand a molecule- all that is left of this man some miniscule consciousness of mine in that boundary between the tides so I might yet feel the light, on my face left to the ocean’s gentle grace never alone in the vastly grave just a glimmer a silicone sliver, of hope under star-shine and moonlit glow some tiny piece of this- left to go on – and on -and on.
note… we all do it… the search for meaning, the meaning of our existence, to square the circle that we can never… but we do it any way, it is in our nature… I can not shake the fear that one day I will disappear, and not even know I existed, my consciousness scattered to the winds… is that greedy? is that shallow? perhaps… in the grand scheme of things I suppose… I suppose I should just let go…but… this is all I know, and the idea that I will be essentially erased, while I have no control, is terrifying… so I hope and search for more… and even that seems shallow, for you or I will never know until that time when we can’t come back here and inform each other… in a blog…
I can understand the stories, the lore here at the shore when the wind howls like it does now something beyond man a power like that only of god for what else could whip the seas into a tempest such as this? such fury seems aimed such fury seems personal we need to aim animus to understand this such as this and somehow I am too enamored hearing the wails of wind and the crash of waves like an other world orchestra even if I understand the underpinnings of the stage… no, there is still mystical corners in our defined world and so I wish to be a sailor of the olden one.
notes… so here I am, the remnants of a hurricane have come ashore here in south new jersey, cape may, no shortage of storms I am sure if she could tell me the stories, I have been through worse here, this one is now all wind, no rain anymore, wailing, constant wailing coming through my third room floor balcony, I have only my imagination to think of how this must have been ages ago, to hear that deafening wailing, on a ship in or on the shore on, I find it illuminating… fascinating… hypnotizing, and yet I can understand the fear such a wailing demon must have seemed back only a hundred years or so ago… really not that long… and I appreciate my station, to be able to be here to hear this, so I wish to recall this when I can, when I am in the throes of the doldrums of daily office life, to recall this moment, this sound, this experience and how tied I feel to the ocean right now, right here…
this self afflicted veil of darkness; when the light hits these eyes, this skin. emerging from my cave I know the feeling, always have the warming, the inner joy of temporary reprieve, how soon my dna seems to forget however, so, waiver, to slink back to that dying comfort to the slow killing- all paths lead to death yes, but would I rather know the land a bit more before, does such meandering matter, perhaps not, does that make me dig my own plot however that much sooner.
I might rather then, burn my feet in the light on that unforgiving exposed plot of sand than reduce down into a heap of still dust a huddled cold mass, all that lies between, is will.
notes… maybe my thoughts are a diary, of my inner self, or not so inner, just my self… sometimes there is rain. “but it can’t rain all the time”…
out upon the silky sea a voyage be’ond discovery for out in that unforgiving grave a rock an outcrop once the roiling cauldron heap to melt the earth herself molten dreams roll conjured up from the continental shelf herself and here now cooled and tam’d these days spared the steam ‘don cleared the haze a seeking flock found peace and stayed without a fang ‘r tooth long in sight decided they were done with flight for why bother with a pilot’s trial on cliffs and yonder tuck’n’tail
notes… nah, I am not explaining this one… let it be mystery and fodder for imagination as this was a loose interpretation, of language and creation, on my part, in other news I finally reorganized my YouTube Channel a bit, so check it out if you please, and on Facebook I post things so, all that, if you like what I do, thank you, no, truly, I broadcast out my frequency and hope there are at least a few ears in tune, even if not, at least I am here to do it.. and that is truly enough, remember that.
the stretching- beautiful blue sky out- as I drive, the span over the meadowlands, tree tops, now budding, in this spring my mind wanders- dreams- drifts- as it should and then inward; there is that moment of inner inspection reflection; looking for that place where my mind will rest and my heart might forget, (her) all these years- and still- no one compares to you, my love for each replaced thread, so abandoned I am reminded- and so long, even the fear has long since departed the familiar denial has settled in the submission to the cold acceptance with only your memory to keep me warm until I go. (there)
(and I pray someday to see you again- for sometimes the hope, the dream is all I have)
sometimes I am mysterious, or arcane, or sometimes I am a merchant of simplicity… depends on the world and how my mind drifts, this was today… (I wrote this piece listening to this song, why? who knows… it was what made me think, made me muse, so I am tried to bring you to the same place, where I put the song on repeat and my mind on repeat until a mantra bubbled up to understand, so it did, profound? loud? soft? correct? righteous? nah… just me.. and maybe you, these days it is what it is, and sometimes I am OK with that even if I wish for the bliss, I realize I had a time in the sun, would I like another? yes…)
so- should I? marry you death- now or then why wait? why the rush? inevitable- the perfect mate; fate- so let the courtship begin and never end. unless I should begin again; reincarnation or resurrection- so let the lantern be lit so I may follow into the path of light.
crows on the rooftop there- what are they trying to tell me? (light signals switch, black eyes twitch- looking) they are not permanent residents at least not in this noisy cloister murder contingent; occupying whole oak tree and surround what is so special about this house (now) what draws them so here and near why do they understand better than I they possess any land, under, the flown sky
notes… sometimes, OK, often I look out the window… and wonder, what draws a crowd, what is the call, what am I missing? something? or nothing more than a dinner bell? or deeper?
no, quite literally just moments ago or an hour, who can be sure the skies were black with rage and blazing flash rain highway sideways, pelting the windows
so temporal, all this so trapped in moments, we become
for oh sun, now shines how light is cast against darkness in contrast I feel the despair leeching out of very my skin as if being pulled out string by string by an invisible, palpable, force of hand – yes and quite suddenly I am transformed long forgotten, the storm