Posts for June 30, 2022 (page 6)

Survival is more than propagation; 

We take what we can
from our parents, learn what we can
from our environment, leave
what we can, with what we can,
searching the elements

before they can
take what they can
from us. 

Survival is more than propagation

of what’s gone before—in us, around us,
from us; you can’t whip-&-tongue your way
from one bad habitat to another
desperately trying, forcing, grafting
unless you simply wish to reproduce
the same negative traits
again & again. 

A pot is merely a pot; it is not
your home.  It is not
where you have
to live.

Revival is more than propagation; 

sometimes you have to plant yourself
with a cutting.  The stakes are high
when the seasons are short, &
the timing is choice. 

It’s kind of a miracle
that anything can grow
given the variables

but it does,
& we do, 

& as survival is insufficient,
I’m manifesting myself
to thrive.

***italicized text a quote by Seven of Nine from the Star Trek mythos***

(for Chuck Stringer)    

Daily pilgrim adds
his footprints to wilderness
recycles our folly.

every tragedy
starts as somebody else’s
sin of omission

but the world won’t change
without people taking charge
turning it around

for every fight
engaged there is another
man on the sidelines

people who use other people
       people who don’t fight for themself
              people who do nothing but complain
       people who leave the work to others
people who don’t forgive
       people who don’t care if you’re exhausted
              people who want you promptly back at 7:00
       people who won’t stand up for their beliefs
people who abuse and mistreat
       people who let themselves be abused
              people who say nothing to the abusers
       people who only seek to take advantage
people who misunderstand God
       people who force their beliefs on others
              people who can’t handle any differing opinion
       people who can’t compromise for better
people who refuse to sacrifice
       people who want to say you’re the problem
              people who believe in their self-perfection without reflection
       people who walk passed beaten travelers without a thought
people who won’t fight for a better world
       people who don’t call out the evil they witness
              people who never stray from the comfort of silence
       people who don’t reach out to precluding friends
people who do not or will not try to change

do you ever think God revisits
His promise not to destroy humanity again?
I wonder beside a moonless ocean
the edge of divine temptation
lapping at my feet
      

                             I want
to remember this day
on my deathbed: my wife,
the soap artist, weighs
the oils, adds the essence
of lavender, fills the pitchers
ready to pour; our beautiful
pregnant daughter places
the molds in their insulators;

at the hundred gallon honey
tank with the olive, cococnut,
and tallow oils for a thousand 
bars, our son-in-law stirs
with a canoe paddle 
like he’s rowing to Kalamazoo;
I lift the pitchers to tip
the milky liquid into 
the molds, to the very top

without spill over
over and over as a cool 
breeze blows through
open doors, Van Morrison’s
Into the Mystic on the radio,
2 cats and 2 dogs outside
asleep on the sidewalk,
suddenly I reach the tipping 
point of the tao

where pouring is effortless,
I’m pouring myself
into the soap,
pouring pouring
pouring out everything
my life my death,
I look up and see
my wife, daughter, son-in-law
smiling at me from the future

holding my hand
radio in the background
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly
the waters of my life 
pouring
                  pouring
                                       out

red bud ablaze    white
chalice of pear    
banquet
of buttery light   
meadow lark trills
on heated branch    blossoms
sprinkle the breeze    scent
the earth    rich loam sifts
through eager fingers planting
seeds
of sweet resilience

my body gulps
the warmth    quenches
parched bones 
stiff muscles    hustle
of lusty color    wistful
counterpoint
to gray hair    
pale skin
word pouring onto paper
before all vibrancy
drains
             away

by the letter S:
sham-
rock and wood
sorrel. Solitude.

It is all so important.
We cannot ignore it
and we must push
push so generations
to follow know
we pushed.   

There is also light
traveling from other stars
at the only speed light knows
when it reaches our sky
the top of our world
our pushing will be forgotten 
and the light will belong
to newer gods.   

Still we must push.
It is all so important.

To ignore the dust congregating 
under the side tables. To watch 
the dog swim through the house 
like a shark. To wear evenly the 
fluff of each couch cushion. To try 
a new TV show on like a stiff pair 
of jeans. To worry about your body 
and my body and how they fit together.
To ask the fridge again and again 
what are we hungry for. To listen 
to its persistent hum as it goes about 
its unthanked work. To ignore phone calls, 
messages, and those who would ruin 
the fantasy of being the last two people
remaining on the planet and have all
the time they want to give over to pleasure
by knocking on the door and asking 
if we would like our yard mowed or our
trees trimmed because it looks like 
they could really use the attention.  

The snapping turtle was on the path again today
Head turned toward the morning sun
Minding its own snapping turtle business
Thinking snapping turtle thoughts  

Did it know I was afraid of its snap? Did it care?
Was it afraid of me, giant creature walking quickly?  

Snapping Turtle turned its head and looked at me
I looked at it
Into each others’ eyes we gazed
Just a moment or two

It nodded and slow walked into the grass
I moved on

(after Dorothy Parker)

Home life bores you; 
poverty’s bad.
Friends ignore you;
alone, you’re sad.
Theft’s not lawful;
the dog’s a jerk.
Soaps are awful; 
you might as well work.