the allure of still
of silence
of a moment
spent
in one count
in one breath.
notes… in the middle of a maelstrom, or a just life, pause, such simplicity, such elicit power to be had over situations, there is calm in this world if you just let it speak to you… so listen…
in the presence of the sons
in the presence of the brothers
a long witness, my mother
a wife for five half score and two;
all of us here, under the all-mighty eye of g-d
to return this vessel
these building blocks
into the earth herself
for today –
I buried my father.
I did not inter love, nor thoughts
nor a lifetime of memories –
for even death, can not purge those
safe, in the deepest corridors of our hearts
those standing, those left
those knowing
for a piece of him resides within you all, now
rejoice in this, take solace in this
in time you will know this to be a guiding lantern
to purge any darkness
so I wish him farewell, for now
until we will meet again
in some other place
a dimension we do not quite yet comprehend
of this I am certain
a calm of peace has settled in
within these thoughts
goodbye, my father, for I will see you again
and thank you for the gifts you left for me
the ones you taught, in imperfection
in perfect humanity
I say goodbye to you, my father
with love – your son, always- your son.
notes… this post is one of my toughest on a personal level (obviously), I thought about not posting it, but this is what hit me @ 4am this morning, I rolled out of my non sleeping bed and wrote these words, before the funeral, the nervous energy I had was overwhelming, or was it dread? I do not know, I have not lost someone so close to me, as I have said in the past I have been lucky to be so untouched by the craven hand of death, but not so, and I knew it was coming at some point… but nothing prepares you for the reality, the customs, the going through, the physical steps to the grave site, the hole, a literal hole with a casket, the dirt in a dominant pile, the cold grip of it all, as if this was a fantasy burial, the sky was mostly blue, there was a cold wind, we were in woodbridge nj but might as well have been in the middle of anywhere, vast and wind swept, I could not speak, I thought it would take forever but as over too soon, but there is nothing you can do, except release and accept helplessness, and just turn back to those you love…
in the presence of the sun
among the heavenly bodies we round
cycles
orbits
life rises, drowns and rises again
all in this procession
far flung on the flight wing of a galaxy
cast out in an endless ocean
can this be the only outpost of hope?
of life?
in all this, just a drift
an arm, a wisp of stars
our star, the one
the one we call, the sun
which has defined our direction for all time
such as can be counted and summed
in the presence of the sun
gives us a center
a ballast
a balance, with focus
a singular form in the form we always have known
our nook, our den
our private fortress
this little blue marble of life
a miracle boat afloat
in just this time
in my eye
to our minds
tethered to a galaxy drifting
our fate
lie and awake
open and closed in mother’s eye
all in this –
the presence of the sun.
are we a marker, an outlier, an anomaly, can we be? just this little branch, this dash, this splash of hope dangling off a limb of one of endless-countless galaxies, can we be alone, even in our own stretch of these woods? the possibility, yes, the possibility is there, but I choose to believe otherwise; why? I could argue the numbers, the sheer amount of possibilities that lay forth with such numbers bound out into infinity, but something inside, a gut, a feel, an instinct, maybe foolish pride, maybe I want to believe we are not just dust on a mere wind blowing by, sure, that is a fair assessment, but what else? can we pretend to know everything, in our little stint, our production run here, the perspective is almost hard to fit, not long ago this was it, terra firma, just the earth, and now the discussions turn towards mars and beyond, but these are just the closest neighbors, there is so much more, where the voyagers have now gone, barely a scratch off the heliosphere, can this twist of tiny now fate be all? the trinkets on my mantle tell a story of a life that will be swallowed and gone, blink, and yet, we live on, multiplying, generations like a constant beating heart of creation, our self importance tethered to a rock, rolling around a common star, ours, as if the sun will blink when we are gone, or just continue on, until she too runs out of the gift, the surge, the power, the sheer will of chemical interactions will cease, and then what of these, these stories, these lives, what will survive if not beams, remnants, something beyond what can be held in hands and hearts, something more, something higher, and how will we know this transformation or communicate with the others? or is there nothing, just nothing, perhaps. but I would rather invest in the wavelength, the energy ribbon, the promise, of hope. of life. for we are alive now, nothing can change that, not even the stoppage of time, so I believe, choose to believe, we survive.
if I could book a ship
a trip
to the moon
to the stars
no, beyond
to float
to soar
escape humanity
and the laws
time and gravity
the helix that binds
release me from these bonds
to soar
to seek
to feel the universe upon
my hands, my feet
yes, a road
a path
the guide of mind
downloads a map
a compass of consciousness
glide
a mind
among the stars
and what I may find – there –
a realm of infinite possibility and life – my family.
the winter wind bites
makes no sound
except through my bamboo
the only leaves left
I see limbs bend and move
I listen for their aches n groans
(as in my bones)
the grass is stopped
frozen
even the sun-
even the sun is drained
bright, illuminated on surfaces
but cold
as if the moon had a forest – once
slowly exhaling
inside, so quiet now
so many voices
but so quiet now
the isolation of flame
so gather
the few that remain,
huddle, huddle with me
“and what I know of
the silence of love
speaks volumes”
notes… haiku? not sure, not meant to be, strictly, that is, this is something I woke up this morning and this was scribbled (OK, typed) in notepad on my little laptop friend here, I don’t even recall writing it, but since I am a music wonk it has beats… 5 / 5/ 3, funny how the universe works such things out (hat tip, universe, in waves)
horseshoe pattern prints
trails bend and cross
this first and freshest snow
surely, a rabbit;
and now in this midnight hour
the tracks have gone
so I wait, for my friend
notes… maybe the ocean is not my only muse, there is the weaving of the breeze through the trees picking off leaves in autumn, the cricket’s symphony on a late summer’s night, and this, silent, clean, pure snow, watching it fall, wrapped inside the comfort of a home, checking the window view as the snow builds up, on the railings, on the tree limbs, slowly covering everything with a white sheen blanket, the kid in me wants to run outside and roll around, the me of now, content to watch and reminisce…
and I never heard his voice this way
from a mountain, yet-
weak, trembling and reaching
“I am going, I am going, david”
I conversed with normalcy in the situation
for what do you do
who is prepared for these times
even though we all come to these times
and prepare for them, we come to them
on this eve;
I will remember the quiet cold
a throbbing silence in the night
I go about routine
a lone goose in the far starry distance
I think I can actually see
the sad lonely bird across
and I hear a sad lonely honk
not sure if this is the last migrant
flowing south
across this december new jersey sky
one more time
for all the wrappings
all the human might
I am helpless
a babe, once again, I am reduced
I wanted to tell him more
to make him want to come back
to spend one more afternoon on the deck
soaking in the sun
like some ancient aztec god
as if the sun was beaming only for him
maybe it was
and I long for him
to have one more time
in that glory of the sun
with no pain, no worry
just a mere moment of simple life
one more time
just for him, as much as for me
to say good bye,
not like this, on this call
family walled off in cells
deprived of touch
I have no cause to petition the lord
I have no cause greater than any
I have nothing to barter, nothing to trade
but for love
from whom that from which I was raised
a model of imperfection
which is the beauty of humanity
for in that imperfection
we find eternity –
in love
for those – our family.
notes… regardless of the vehicle, death comes, so what then, for the living, I still smile, because the universe has taught me to be alive, so be alive – and love – the greatest of these is love…
my mind wanders when driving.
driving.
lights bend in the fog
mailboxes flash reflect
thoughts wander
‘when might I see you again?’
around that next corner
around the bend
not likely
for you are dead.
I can only hope
that flame ignite
to immolate, yes, immolate this dread of passing.
one day, from then, then to seek
your light
a torch, so I might bear
lead me down some other path
and there
we shall meet again
and talk
of common times
in common tongues
in a new place
outside of time
perhaps this is causality
and I am the casualty of-
the rain
a grey veil of gloom over
even silver linings wane
not some days
not all days
today, one of those lingering
an insidious thought invades, breaks the levy
‘I have nothing’
or feel that way
perhaps only because I ‘had’
I can not stop the swell, the surge
the rush back, a rampaging flood now converges
that a bound fist in my abdomen confirms
my eyes well,
we all want to travel back, to rewrite;
and we do, in a way, down that path, in our mind
but know, always know the foundation
the truth is in the earth, hands clench this
the cruelty of the steadiness of dirt
support of life and burial of the dead roots
as far reach as heaven, up into the air
roots buried, anchors, always, memories
a library, a curated collection
rows and rows of known, wanton forgotten
I am alone-
most days this is not a bother
some days a marker, a visitor, my own host
I scrape for false shelter
draw out the homilies on my lips
all the words I left out
a mantra to my burden
to wait out the storm and pretend some more.
note… to any new people (as I am seeing more traffic), hello you (waving), my work is off the cuff, one off, unless otherwise noted, perfect? no way man…. but I post it… and here it is… when I write the thing it is visceral, you get me facial, that’s all… and if you like it … great, if not, also great, I appreciate the read, the time, your eyes, thanks… we are existing right now at this time…. which is a miracle, billions of the years of the universe have brought us together… for corn dogs… well, er, at least that or more I hope, so all your comments, recipes, thoughts, coherent rants and advice for my garden – are appreciated. I am the bamboo whisperer… I tell ya…
Shades of My Garden 