Posts for June 23, 2022 (page 6)

It takes a lump of coal
300 million years
in preparation,
to heat, after
filthy extraction,
a small room,
a few hours.

unless
we harvest
this year,
at a rate which
exceeds last,
our whole
gig fails.

we suffer stiff
inflation, slide
into recession,
pray to Machiavelli
not another great
depression.

the math is simple.

we require an
expanding rape
of mountainside,
a robust forecast
of deforestation,
an aggressive,
market friendly
frenzy of beautiful
economic growth.

otherwise how
could we survive 
on this earth?

When it comes to bodies of water,
I’ve seen rushier rivers.
I’ve seen lakes with lashier winds …
Oceans with crashier waves.
But god, I love the gulf
At its smoothiest glimmer.
It reminds me of some 20-year-olds
Who’d take beach chairs out
To a sandbar.
Water warm and calm.
With no waves to knock them around,
Only their beers
—their many beers—
Would topple them over.

The pause and the morning and me –
all pregnant (metaphorically),
sitting in the dark with this quiet coffee
in this calm house, waiting for the wake up.

My mind is still for just one breath –
soon it will be filled with thoughts
old and new, opening in the dewy grass
like summer flowers waiting for rain.

WE

ARE 

NOT.

Walking barefoot
in the morning dew
You call to me 
from an open door
Invitations
and early morning testimony 
My dirty feet ground me
im exactly where I am meant to be  

In lime fluorescent tank top
& tight black Capri pants,  
she slowly lifts her arms
to the sky, to the sun,
exhaling a big breath, bends
towards her purple yoga mat
that might really be a bed
of sweet clover.

Good Morning Fellow Travelers
she says each morning we show up.

She is so patient with us–
60-somethings like me
who struggle to balance 
as we try to steady our tree pose,
those of us who later in life
had grand babies to lift,
& finally, gardens to tend,

wished we had taken just a
little time each day to
praise the sun, breathe, chant
before our days began.

A New Year resolution,
like a garlic necklace,
stinks before you put it on.
I make Mid-Year resolutions
so I feel only half bad
when I break them:

1) Make the dogs tell the truth,
              never let them lie
2) Avoid the news
              unless it comes from
              over the neighbor’s fence
3) Save water
               piss outside
4) Hord 2 things needed for a good life,
               dental floss & toe nail clippers
5) Don’t talk about the weather,
                it already knows what it is
6) Donate shelf-less books to Good Will,
                maybe they’ll find a Good home
7) Howl at night,
                with the coyotes
8) Don’t ask what time it is,
                trees don’t count their rings,
                & the half-life of the flitting flea
                is forever
9) Stop all pilgrimages,
                let Mecca come here
10) Dream of Ethiopia 
                where weather & metaphysics 
                do not exist and time is merely
                space for physical love
                

I see a spectacle of colors appear before my mind 
an epochal of lusters that seem undefinedwho is the adjuster, of how the patterns are designed?
a red and orange criss cross and then suddenly align
then a quiver of green shivers and intertwines
enter in a wall of golden blue that sparkles and shines
different hues of purple that leave my pupils blind
helping me see a balance of energy and time 
in a circle of synergy that spins perfectly aligned

it isn’t linear, my time
it addresses me in circles undefined 
they individually rotate in front of a mirror and intersect with lines 
I reflect pinpointing the more nearer for a sign
I’m always thinking about myself in different times
trying to access the lines aligned outside the confines
of my imaginative mind 

because…

my imagination and its narration
I’m always wrestling against time with much frustration

is it really that unrefined, my relation?
I allude the connection of sounds and vibrations of a clocks ticking rotation

I’m so bound and glued to the sensation,
of wondering what’s behind or beyond a moments duration

beaver ears
giraffe ankles
black bear tails
tiger noses
elephant teeth
shark tongues
human selflessness

i am staying at the broome
you cannot miss its grand attack of windows
front door holds its hand out like a manhattan funeral
i wish your father had not died and all of this were more of a celebration