I see a glass ball: in the ball I see all the suffering I have experienced. What occurs to me first is a drawing I made when I was a young teenager. It depicted a ball, and inside the ball was a scene of horrific depression. The images were jagged, the faces tortured. Where did this come from? Divorce, neglect, depression, cruelty? I showed it to my sister and she agreed. It was an accurate account. Other images in the glass ball were ones of living in fear and doubt - suffocating within myself - quiet desperation.
Then there is perhaps the granddaddy image of them all, Schizophrenia. They say it can start manifesting at a young age. Was this the true source of all the pain and suffering? I don't know. It is always an open-ended question- it is always a mystery - nothing is set in stone - it all flows richly down the stream of experience.
This question brings up an idea that has inspired me throughout my adult life, and perhaps even before, maybe before I could even recognize what it was. The great muse of MYSTERY! What gift these glass ball experiences have given me. And I have already well named it - the awe and wonder of mystery.
I guess through suffering comes wisdom - so I have been told - but I don't feel wise. We learn from our mistakes but I don't feel educated. Perhaps this all sounds miserable but I don't feel miserable. I look at the morning sun stream through my window.
Yet I am forgetting the greatest of all gifts - ART! It is my true passion and I thank God every morning for this gift however mysterious its origins. It fills me with wonder and awe at this beautiful horrific world we live in. Perhaps I can transform the glass ball experiences into crystal bright light even if the subject may be dark. It all boils down to this: each morning is a gift.
(from a meditation on the "6 of Fire" tarot card)
July 23, 2010
June 23, 2010
Fire Wheel of Fortune
Standing at the edge he sees the sun
often in the dead of night the sky opens up
and out flows the grand essence of peace
will the stars fall in the correct order or will
the chaos prevail and the sylphs come home?
all the sun can do is shine and follow the path
where the chariot awaits and careens across
the night flowing and fixing to create rapture
and joy - the bright light dazzles the eyes and sends
him into the stratosphere dancing with the clouds
and singing with the constellations - all will end in
the blast of never ending explosions of free will
and choice - in the morning after the freedom
he sits and rests while his spirit catapults itself
always seeing all that it can see and living all
that it can live - so he hesitates and looks again
at the sun then down to the abyss where creatures
wondrous light and mercy await his decision
one foot slowly creeps its way over the edge
his hands are shaking and his breath quickens
across from him the mountains loom large
and full of mystery where blue and gold shine
as the fiery stature ebbs and falls into a white
web where the pregnant spider all but shatters the
sky with its beauty and grace - in the meantime
his spirit grows cool and soon he begins to shake
and tremble - he has never felt sorrow like
he does now weeping into his hands as the wind
takes hold of his hands as they continue to relive
the terrible fright of the creatures down below
but all is not lost as the time for sudden peace
will shine its head into great fireworks bursting
forever in the dead of the morning - at last he takes
flight and sails past the fiery mountains and flows
deliciously through the clouds forever in prayer
and safety yet always out of control - will the flying
of the birds continue his search as the chosen one
who breathes and hiccups bubbles of cause
and effect where soon the light of the personable
and the way of security will singe the paper wings
as the terrible hills beyond hills always tied to
the end of the string - "sing once again and use
your breath to steal the pins and needles as
if you will never come home" says the salamander
as he floats into a circle and spins and whirls
a wicked top out of control brings the notion
of failure crying and warping the instrument
of togetherness where the sun will once again
rise and fill the coffers with berry juice staining
the hair and coat of the chosen one as he
enters into the ride of his life - a ride so full of
passion that red turns to white
often in the dead of night the sky opens up
and out flows the grand essence of peace
will the stars fall in the correct order or will
the chaos prevail and the sylphs come home?
all the sun can do is shine and follow the path
where the chariot awaits and careens across
the night flowing and fixing to create rapture
and joy - the bright light dazzles the eyes and sends
him into the stratosphere dancing with the clouds
and singing with the constellations - all will end in
the blast of never ending explosions of free will
and choice - in the morning after the freedom
he sits and rests while his spirit catapults itself
always seeing all that it can see and living all
that it can live - so he hesitates and looks again
at the sun then down to the abyss where creatures
wondrous light and mercy await his decision
one foot slowly creeps its way over the edge
his hands are shaking and his breath quickens
across from him the mountains loom large
and full of mystery where blue and gold shine
as the fiery stature ebbs and falls into a white
web where the pregnant spider all but shatters the
sky with its beauty and grace - in the meantime
his spirit grows cool and soon he begins to shake
and tremble - he has never felt sorrow like
he does now weeping into his hands as the wind
takes hold of his hands as they continue to relive
the terrible fright of the creatures down below
but all is not lost as the time for sudden peace
will shine its head into great fireworks bursting
forever in the dead of the morning - at last he takes
flight and sails past the fiery mountains and flows
deliciously through the clouds forever in prayer
and safety yet always out of control - will the flying
of the birds continue his search as the chosen one
who breathes and hiccups bubbles of cause
and effect where soon the light of the personable
and the way of security will singe the paper wings
as the terrible hills beyond hills always tied to
the end of the string - "sing once again and use
your breath to steal the pins and needles as
if you will never come home" says the salamander
as he floats into a circle and spins and whirls
a wicked top out of control brings the notion
of failure crying and warping the instrument
of togetherness where the sun will once again
rise and fill the coffers with berry juice staining
the hair and coat of the chosen one as he
enters into the ride of his life - a ride so full of
passion that red turns to white
May 15, 2010
Alive in my Consciousness
Rain - the wind blew as I made my way up to the deans office. What will become of me? How will this play out? It was the final day of baseball practice - as an 8th grader I had elected to join the team - sports not being required until 9th grade. As a celebration Scott had brought a small bottle of Sherry - the kind one gets on an airplane. Of all the places to drink it we chose the middle of the hall just outside the door to the boys locker room. Just as Scott opened the bottle Mr. H entered through the hall doorway. We broke into a run and Mr. H chased us. I ran outside and up the stairs to the gym, that is where he caught me.
Walking through the rain I wondered what my mother and father would think when I told them. It is actually quite funny to be caught with such a small amount of alcohol - there was no way to get drunk. And why had we chosen the middle of the hallway to open it? Stupidity. Mr. R the dean listened carefully to my story. He shook his head and informed me that I would be suspended for one day - the last day of classes it turned out to be.
Coming home my mother was out but my brother Steve was home and we went out to get Mexican food. I told him my news and he said that our parents would not be harsh with me for I was a good student and never really got into much trouble before. On the phone expecting a punishment instead my father said that I was already getting enough punishment at school - he chose to let it go. My mother felt the same.
Every year at the end of classes all the school had what was called "work day" where we all cleaned up the school. It was all part of the "self help system". The school had a whole hierarchy of student government. The seniors were assigned areas of the school to be in charge of. The rest of the students worked under the seniors. The seniors had what was called "slip power". This meant that anytime a student broke the rules (and was caught) the seniors had the power to" write them up" with a bad slip. If on the other hand the student volunteered they would be given "good slips". At the end of each week the good and bad slips would be reviewed and the student would either get more privileges or be punished - namely Saturday morning cleanup.
It was a work day that Ron came up to me and said, "How goes it alkie?" as in alcoholic. News traveled fast. I did not find it funny.
That year I got into more trouble this time off campus. Each year we went on what was called the Whale Watch. We took a bus ride to the tip of Cape Cod got on a boat and looked for whales. Camping out it was all fun. Before the trip as we walked to soccer practice I had a great idea - or so I thought. "Why don't we have a competition to see who can steal the most." I offered. All agreed it would be great fun.
In Provincetown we hit store after store. The first thing I stole was a Hustler magazine - we were all more than interested in such a find typical of boys our age. Then we came to a novelty store. I had on an open flannel shirt with a t-shirt underneath. When I stole something I put it under the flannel shirt. In the back of the store my friends turned to leave noticing the shopkeeper looking at us from under the cabinet. I did not see him.
Yes this was a mistake. Taking a hat I put it under my flannel shirt but then for some reason I had second thoughts and put it back. As I left the store theshopkeeper, a rough burly bald headed man, took me by the collar and gave me a headbutt. I don't remember what for I was in shock. He scared me to death. Outside the store I was shaking much to the mirth of my friends. That was the end of my career as a shoplifter.
Walking through the rain I wondered what my mother and father would think when I told them. It is actually quite funny to be caught with such a small amount of alcohol - there was no way to get drunk. And why had we chosen the middle of the hallway to open it? Stupidity. Mr. R the dean listened carefully to my story. He shook his head and informed me that I would be suspended for one day - the last day of classes it turned out to be.
Coming home my mother was out but my brother Steve was home and we went out to get Mexican food. I told him my news and he said that our parents would not be harsh with me for I was a good student and never really got into much trouble before. On the phone expecting a punishment instead my father said that I was already getting enough punishment at school - he chose to let it go. My mother felt the same.
Every year at the end of classes all the school had what was called "work day" where we all cleaned up the school. It was all part of the "self help system". The school had a whole hierarchy of student government. The seniors were assigned areas of the school to be in charge of. The rest of the students worked under the seniors. The seniors had what was called "slip power". This meant that anytime a student broke the rules (and was caught) the seniors had the power to" write them up" with a bad slip. If on the other hand the student volunteered they would be given "good slips". At the end of each week the good and bad slips would be reviewed and the student would either get more privileges or be punished - namely Saturday morning cleanup.
It was a work day that Ron came up to me and said, "How goes it alkie?" as in alcoholic. News traveled fast. I did not find it funny.
That year I got into more trouble this time off campus. Each year we went on what was called the Whale Watch. We took a bus ride to the tip of Cape Cod got on a boat and looked for whales. Camping out it was all fun. Before the trip as we walked to soccer practice I had a great idea - or so I thought. "Why don't we have a competition to see who can steal the most." I offered. All agreed it would be great fun.
In Provincetown we hit store after store. The first thing I stole was a Hustler magazine - we were all more than interested in such a find typical of boys our age. Then we came to a novelty store. I had on an open flannel shirt with a t-shirt underneath. When I stole something I put it under the flannel shirt. In the back of the store my friends turned to leave noticing the shopkeeper looking at us from under the cabinet. I did not see him.
Yes this was a mistake. Taking a hat I put it under my flannel shirt but then for some reason I had second thoughts and put it back. As I left the store theshopkeeper, a rough burly bald headed man, took me by the collar and gave me a headbutt. I don't remember what for I was in shock. He scared me to death. Outside the store I was shaking much to the mirth of my friends. That was the end of my career as a shoplifter.
April 11, 2010
The Fool Enters the Blessing of Water
Enter the Blessing
let the figures dance freely
The Fool asks a question
not for the faint of heart
I will leave it up to you
Great Spirit
why do the fish fly freely
on the wind?
why do birds float freely
in the water?
why do spiders create
their webs?
It is just as it should be
difficult to think
imagine the butterfly
first a worm
then a cocoon
then the magical transformation
Never will I Understand
my mind stretches, but.........
let the Unknown free me
no destination
just process
move in wonder and awe
let the Mystery free me
no truth
just beauty
move in and out of the labyrinth
let the Ineffable free me
no rain
just ocean
move up and over the mountain
where are the signs?
I am blind
let the figures dance freely
The Fool asks a question
not for the faint of heart
I will leave it up to you
Great Spirit
why do the fish fly freely
on the wind?
why do birds float freely
in the water?
why do spiders create
their webs?
It is just as it should be
difficult to think
imagine the butterfly
first a worm
then a cocoon
then the magical transformation
Never will I Understand
my mind stretches, but.........
let the Unknown free me
no destination
just process
move in wonder and awe
let the Mystery free me
no truth
just beauty
move in and out of the labyrinth
let the Ineffable free me
no rain
just ocean
move up and over the mountain
where are the signs?
I am blind
March 21, 2010
Homage to Phoenix
Burn brightly wondrous Phoenix. I see you in my dreams, delicate and light yet full of power and strength. I am entranced with the colors of your wings, all green and yellow. Fly through the air in great life.
Don't turn around. I am sweating - sticky and hot. Why do you plague me? What a cruel trick you have played on me. My mind turns against itself. We climb up the stairs - the stones are odd and playful. Two people with incense walk by. Don't look at them. I am filled with terror.
As I walk slowly I try and absorb all that I can. It seems if I had 1000 years I would still not see everything. A man moves. Out of the corner of my eye I see him. He is wearing a purple gown and he rings a bell. One... two... three... He chants.
Oh great Phoenix you fill me with such hope and grace. I see you in my dreams and am comforted. On the roof I watch as you dance in red, blue and yellow. Dizzy I walk away. More rain.
STOP - STOP - STOP, not again. When will you go away? Who are you referring to? Phoenix? Paranoia? Are they two sides to the same coin? Wait this does not make sense. The memories are slow and languid - a magical time. Even with the trouble I would not change a thing. Why? Because great Phoenix rests in my chest, in my mind and on the bottom of my feet.
Don't let the destroyers win. Fuck you - Hate me, Fuck you - Hate me. Gently the wind caresses my face. I am at peace again only in the next moment to be swept into a frenzy of confusion. Great Phoenix I bow to your spirit and let your pure love course through my veins. I live for you.
Don't turn around. I am sweating - sticky and hot. Why do you plague me? What a cruel trick you have played on me. My mind turns against itself. We climb up the stairs - the stones are odd and playful. Two people with incense walk by. Don't look at them. I am filled with terror.
As I walk slowly I try and absorb all that I can. It seems if I had 1000 years I would still not see everything. A man moves. Out of the corner of my eye I see him. He is wearing a purple gown and he rings a bell. One... two... three... He chants.
Oh great Phoenix you fill me with such hope and grace. I see you in my dreams and am comforted. On the roof I watch as you dance in red, blue and yellow. Dizzy I walk away. More rain.
STOP - STOP - STOP, not again. When will you go away? Who are you referring to? Phoenix? Paranoia? Are they two sides to the same coin? Wait this does not make sense. The memories are slow and languid - a magical time. Even with the trouble I would not change a thing. Why? Because great Phoenix rests in my chest, in my mind and on the bottom of my feet.
Don't let the destroyers win. Fuck you - Hate me, Fuck you - Hate me. Gently the wind caresses my face. I am at peace again only in the next moment to be swept into a frenzy of confusion. Great Phoenix I bow to your spirit and let your pure love course through my veins. I live for you.
March 11, 2010
My First Love
What can I say about my first - well almost - Love? Sitting in Geometry class I often looked over to Caroline sitting next to me. She was beautiful - her thin dark features easy on my eyes.
I loved geometry - it came easy for me. It was like a big puzzle that needed solving. Writing the proofs is what I loved. My friend George and I always competed for the best grade on the tests. He often won and would have won the title of best in class but he and 3 of our degenerate friends decided to skip the final day of classes. I don't think he cared much. The grading system was a series of numbers 6 being an A+ and 1 being an F. A six was hard to come by but George and I always had our eyes on that prize.
Geometry was right before lunch and I remember my stomach growling. For some reason I was incredibly afraid to have my stomach growling heard by others in the class. Flexing my stomach muscles I was incessantly trying never to be heard. Why it terrified me so is hard for me to understand now. I guess anything that called attention to me was not acceptable to my shy nature. Back then many many things terrified me.
My love for Caroline was deep - as deep as I ever felt up to that point in my life. The school had what was called the self-help system where all the students were in charge of cleaning the school - everything from waiting on tables to scrubbing toilets was all done by the students. It was when Caroline was cleaning the tables after lunch that I caught her dazzling eyes. I shyly walked through the swinging doors to the lunchroom and offered to help her clean. She smiled and my heart soared - did she secretly pine over me as I did her? I took the sponge and scrubbed the table. She seemed pleased and I continued to hope.
It was later that year that my sister Anne, knowing my love for Caroline, locked me in our brother’s room where there was a phone and would not let me out until I called and asked Caroline to the movies. I was so nervous my voice quivered but I managed to do it only to be shot down because she said her father - a local policeman - would not let her go on dates. I never knew if this was the truth or not and what was more frustrating was that there was no change in Caroline's behavior. She said hello the same - looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes the way she always had. I was flummoxed. I never got the courage to ask her out again so my love was unrequited much to my dismay.
The 7th grade class decided to have a party at Billy's house and my heart leaped for this was another chance to test my love for Caroline. I fantasized of kissing her and much to my shock I actually did! I couldn't believe my luck. We were playing spin the bottle and as I spun I hoped and hoped that the bottle would point to Caroline. And praise be to God it did point to her. I nervously got up and went over to Caroline and hesitantly kissed her on the cheek. I was in 7th heaven. Surely now Caroline would confess to me her love all would be wondrous. But no such luck. Just as there was no response to me asking her on a date there was again no change in her behavior after the kiss. I did not understand.
I jealously watched as Caroline giggled with Peter. Peter was handsome and smooth and Caroline was more into him than me. I was crushed but still I hoped that she would realize our true love and jump into my arms. I blankly stared out the car window as my sister sang "Chucky's in love.” She thought I was daydreaming about Caroline as I often did, but that day I was I was floating on some other cloud.
At the party Caroline swung on a hammock and I hopefully went over to talk with her. She looked at me with those soft eyes and smiled - my heart leapt. She must have known my love for her but nothing ever happened. She never went out with me - never kissed me again and everything spun into entropy. I never had the courage to ask her out again. She was sweet on Peter much to my dismay. I never knew what she thought of me - it was in the realm of the great unknown. So as I looked over to Caroline in Geometry class and clenched my stomach muscles so no one would hear, life went on and Caroline faded away. It took another year for me to get over Caroline I often played the scene of our one kiss - though very one sided at that party playing spin the bottle. I lived in a kind of Love Limbo as she smiled at me every day. I never got close to her as I wished - she remained lost except in my fantasies.
I loved geometry - it came easy for me. It was like a big puzzle that needed solving. Writing the proofs is what I loved. My friend George and I always competed for the best grade on the tests. He often won and would have won the title of best in class but he and 3 of our degenerate friends decided to skip the final day of classes. I don't think he cared much. The grading system was a series of numbers 6 being an A+ and 1 being an F. A six was hard to come by but George and I always had our eyes on that prize.
Geometry was right before lunch and I remember my stomach growling. For some reason I was incredibly afraid to have my stomach growling heard by others in the class. Flexing my stomach muscles I was incessantly trying never to be heard. Why it terrified me so is hard for me to understand now. I guess anything that called attention to me was not acceptable to my shy nature. Back then many many things terrified me.
My love for Caroline was deep - as deep as I ever felt up to that point in my life. The school had what was called the self-help system where all the students were in charge of cleaning the school - everything from waiting on tables to scrubbing toilets was all done by the students. It was when Caroline was cleaning the tables after lunch that I caught her dazzling eyes. I shyly walked through the swinging doors to the lunchroom and offered to help her clean. She smiled and my heart soared - did she secretly pine over me as I did her? I took the sponge and scrubbed the table. She seemed pleased and I continued to hope.
It was later that year that my sister Anne, knowing my love for Caroline, locked me in our brother’s room where there was a phone and would not let me out until I called and asked Caroline to the movies. I was so nervous my voice quivered but I managed to do it only to be shot down because she said her father - a local policeman - would not let her go on dates. I never knew if this was the truth or not and what was more frustrating was that there was no change in Caroline's behavior. She said hello the same - looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes the way she always had. I was flummoxed. I never got the courage to ask her out again so my love was unrequited much to my dismay.
The 7th grade class decided to have a party at Billy's house and my heart leaped for this was another chance to test my love for Caroline. I fantasized of kissing her and much to my shock I actually did! I couldn't believe my luck. We were playing spin the bottle and as I spun I hoped and hoped that the bottle would point to Caroline. And praise be to God it did point to her. I nervously got up and went over to Caroline and hesitantly kissed her on the cheek. I was in 7th heaven. Surely now Caroline would confess to me her love all would be wondrous. But no such luck. Just as there was no response to me asking her on a date there was again no change in her behavior after the kiss. I did not understand.
I jealously watched as Caroline giggled with Peter. Peter was handsome and smooth and Caroline was more into him than me. I was crushed but still I hoped that she would realize our true love and jump into my arms. I blankly stared out the car window as my sister sang "Chucky's in love.” She thought I was daydreaming about Caroline as I often did, but that day I was I was floating on some other cloud.
At the party Caroline swung on a hammock and I hopefully went over to talk with her. She looked at me with those soft eyes and smiled - my heart leapt. She must have known my love for her but nothing ever happened. She never went out with me - never kissed me again and everything spun into entropy. I never had the courage to ask her out again. She was sweet on Peter much to my dismay. I never knew what she thought of me - it was in the realm of the great unknown. So as I looked over to Caroline in Geometry class and clenched my stomach muscles so no one would hear, life went on and Caroline faded away. It took another year for me to get over Caroline I often played the scene of our one kiss - though very one sided at that party playing spin the bottle. I lived in a kind of Love Limbo as she smiled at me every day. I never got close to her as I wished - she remained lost except in my fantasies.
February 24, 2010
Water Lovers
Against the backdrop he did not know
where he stood - the uncertainty was deafening
will she love him or be a figment of his imagination?
he already had a wonderful thing going but could one
love 2 people at the same time? was there a way to cheat
death live in debauchery and hedonism as he did so many
years ago? get with reality is what she said - you think you
have the gall to wish for unanswerable tendencies?
all you will get is a fantasy - an unrequited call
a worrisome thought and a selfish glutton off the map
and two altogether separate people in the dance
of night - but isn't fantasy more rich and wondrous than reality?
only a god so transfixed in the affairs of others
will call upon the devil to do his work and live his life
being that he only saw her for such a limited time
the days were spent languishing in utter decadence
so beautiful was the inkling - the softness astounded him
together they flew through the air so free and real
up to the stratosphere like an endless glider slowly
easing its way from cloud to cloud - a balance so delicate
and loving it could only be the last resort of the angels
can air be so lovely and caring - did he realize the sanctity
of those first glances? No he did not - just go to your books
and sink your head into the floor - open your mouth so that
the inchworm will catapult itself into the basket of treachery
to be real is the goal not the purpose - look and he will find the great
answers to the questions of dancehall crutches
enter the labyrinth and rise to the endless touch
so full of passion and grace - she will ignore the solution
and ignore the side glances of freedom - all he wished to do was to
hold her in his arms - that would end the scarce treble so hooked
as he was on the end product - But No! it is all in the process
not the result - he wished to be transported into the grave
of unknown saints - to make his plea to the court of wonder and
tragedy - Rise up! Rise up! there is glory in the nights ahead
the nights filled with honey and apples only to spill out into the day
as a corpse in the sun - up to a certain point he could make the
argument that once the dramatic ears of tragedy heard the call
of ten thousand hummingbirds then the wisdom of transcendence
ekes through the pipeline of internal catapults - a life less lived
than thought of - he heard the train coming and was frightened
of the sound of rattling metal - a porous mental picture
soon to be realized as false and futile and rotting
in the end he could just see the outline of her face
the tragic failure of his thoughts and actions seeding the
new penchant for liberty and just causes - will the
monsters be at bay or will they jump start the end of the world?
he will never know just as she will never tell him her secrets
where he stood - the uncertainty was deafening
will she love him or be a figment of his imagination?
he already had a wonderful thing going but could one
love 2 people at the same time? was there a way to cheat
death live in debauchery and hedonism as he did so many
years ago? get with reality is what she said - you think you
have the gall to wish for unanswerable tendencies?
all you will get is a fantasy - an unrequited call
a worrisome thought and a selfish glutton off the map
and two altogether separate people in the dance
of night - but isn't fantasy more rich and wondrous than reality?
only a god so transfixed in the affairs of others
will call upon the devil to do his work and live his life
being that he only saw her for such a limited time
the days were spent languishing in utter decadence
so beautiful was the inkling - the softness astounded him
together they flew through the air so free and real
up to the stratosphere like an endless glider slowly
easing its way from cloud to cloud - a balance so delicate
and loving it could only be the last resort of the angels
can air be so lovely and caring - did he realize the sanctity
of those first glances? No he did not - just go to your books
and sink your head into the floor - open your mouth so that
the inchworm will catapult itself into the basket of treachery
to be real is the goal not the purpose - look and he will find the great
answers to the questions of dancehall crutches
enter the labyrinth and rise to the endless touch
so full of passion and grace - she will ignore the solution
and ignore the side glances of freedom - all he wished to do was to
hold her in his arms - that would end the scarce treble so hooked
as he was on the end product - But No! it is all in the process
not the result - he wished to be transported into the grave
of unknown saints - to make his plea to the court of wonder and
tragedy - Rise up! Rise up! there is glory in the nights ahead
the nights filled with honey and apples only to spill out into the day
as a corpse in the sun - up to a certain point he could make the
argument that once the dramatic ears of tragedy heard the call
of ten thousand hummingbirds then the wisdom of transcendence
ekes through the pipeline of internal catapults - a life less lived
than thought of - he heard the train coming and was frightened
of the sound of rattling metal - a porous mental picture
soon to be realized as false and futile and rotting
in the end he could just see the outline of her face
the tragic failure of his thoughts and actions seeding the
new penchant for liberty and just causes - will the
monsters be at bay or will they jump start the end of the world?
he will never know just as she will never tell him her secrets
January 29, 2010
Wind Hierophant
Hierophant (n) a person who brings religious congregants into the presence of that which is deemed holy
She caught my eye for the last time
in the mist of calling me she broke
I remember the day I first stole a look
We walked and walked covering much potential
Why did I FEEL LIKE RUNNING AWAY?
The second time I saw her figure floating
in pure seasonable heaven
we talked and toppled over one another
I saw the limit would not end the life
gather your shoes and clean the tops
there will be no half truths on earth
happiness and joy please stay
I beg with cup in hand ready for lunch
eat and be merry it is all I live for
friends are the core even if they are
all covered in moss - bust through and
see the light - Water Hierophant set your fire
on my tongue for I cannot speak
she fills me with grace and uncertainty
I am partial and she is whole
she walks toward me and makes a
small hand gesture - I sip another
and fly into excitement won't you caress me?
visions trouble our minds - you call me
in great fear and guilt maybe time
to take another walk - I ran and ran
going only as far as the wind will take me
turn in the statue of Hierophant
will I learn or just skid around in perpetuity
the cart on the tennis court buzzes and careens
next they sold tickets in the false yard
jump and feel the great passion of the falling stone
days and days I walk in the leaves with memories
of god and loneliness "Why Black?!?" she screamed
and I shrank down in insecurity "Some people
have all the potential in the world but never
live up to it" Was she talking to me? - all I see
are lines and codes - I cannot open my mouth
my lips are glued together - M calls forth
"Save me a seat" I look around and do nothing
as usual it all gets worse but that night
the sky was black the stars were pure
and all was right in the world
She caught my eye for the last time
in the mist of calling me she broke
I remember the day I first stole a look
We walked and walked covering much potential
Why did I FEEL LIKE RUNNING AWAY?
The second time I saw her figure floating
in pure seasonable heaven
we talked and toppled over one another
I saw the limit would not end the life
gather your shoes and clean the tops
there will be no half truths on earth
happiness and joy please stay
I beg with cup in hand ready for lunch
eat and be merry it is all I live for
friends are the core even if they are
all covered in moss - bust through and
see the light - Water Hierophant set your fire
on my tongue for I cannot speak
she fills me with grace and uncertainty
I am partial and she is whole
she walks toward me and makes a
small hand gesture - I sip another
and fly into excitement won't you caress me?
visions trouble our minds - you call me
in great fear and guilt maybe time
to take another walk - I ran and ran
going only as far as the wind will take me
turn in the statue of Hierophant
will I learn or just skid around in perpetuity
the cart on the tennis court buzzes and careens
next they sold tickets in the false yard
jump and feel the great passion of the falling stone
days and days I walk in the leaves with memories
of god and loneliness "Why Black?!?" she screamed
and I shrank down in insecurity "Some people
have all the potential in the world but never
live up to it" Was she talking to me? - all I see
are lines and codes - I cannot open my mouth
my lips are glued together - M calls forth
"Save me a seat" I look around and do nothing
as usual it all gets worse but that night
the sky was black the stars were pure
and all was right in the world
January 4, 2010
Nighttime
Deb and I used to run all over the yard
feeling the warm glow of sunshine
we would race into the woods
where phantasms lurked
soon the dusk would come and we would have to
come inside for cottage cheese with mayonaise and ketsup
as the bugs grew bustling the summer have set in
at night we wished for stories to be told
wanting the glory of the day to fill our glasses with peach cider
the house became a grand world of deserts and waterfalls and
jungles and ocean - we would travel halfway across the world to
get to bed - banging my head on the bed frame wanting to stay up just
a little bit longer to see the wonders of the television
often we would eat frozen orange juice and laugh at the pictures
in the small box of light
they would come in and place a scratchy kiss on the forehead
smelling the strange odor of gin and tonic
please tell me a story I don't want to go to bed now
I will tell you the story of Mary and Mory -
now my story is begun - I will tell you another about her brother
and now my story is done
but No! please another
at night the shadows float through the air
and I will sound the whistle of wind just as they did on the westerns
but Anne would call and be done with the sounds
turn the radio on and off with the thoughts
drift slowly into sleep hearing the talk and laughter
from down stairs - what comfort
all is well with the world
feeling the warm glow of sunshine
we would race into the woods
where phantasms lurked
soon the dusk would come and we would have to
come inside for cottage cheese with mayonaise and ketsup
as the bugs grew bustling the summer have set in
at night we wished for stories to be told
wanting the glory of the day to fill our glasses with peach cider
the house became a grand world of deserts and waterfalls and
jungles and ocean - we would travel halfway across the world to
get to bed - banging my head on the bed frame wanting to stay up just
a little bit longer to see the wonders of the television
often we would eat frozen orange juice and laugh at the pictures
in the small box of light
they would come in and place a scratchy kiss on the forehead
smelling the strange odor of gin and tonic
please tell me a story I don't want to go to bed now
I will tell you the story of Mary and Mory -
now my story is begun - I will tell you another about her brother
and now my story is done
but No! please another
at night the shadows float through the air
and I will sound the whistle of wind just as they did on the westerns
but Anne would call and be done with the sounds
turn the radio on and off with the thoughts
drift slowly into sleep hearing the talk and laughter
from down stairs - what comfort
all is well with the world
December 31, 2009
Berlin 1991 - New Year's Eve
He made the call from the apartment of the unknown man. She said she had only stepped into her apartment for an hour. But to his delight he managed to reach her. Memories of her play, the green mask, the play acting filled his heart. He often would dream of her - oh precious Nathalie. He fantasized of her face.
The unknown man’s apartment was sparse filled with only a TV, a bed, a closet, a guitar and a playboy magazine. He paid him for the call. Driving up to the unknown man’s apartment he remained quiet having just parted with Terra on a sour note. It was just like the woman in the opera who came up to John and asked why he was so sad. John did not know haw to respond but said "Yes I am sad."
"Are you missing something or someone?" she asked
John didn't say "I'm always this way.” It reminded John of the game with Chris in Delaware, when they’d say over and over "It all goes back to childhood," he remembered with a smile. Why was the woman so concerned? She seemed to be genuine. John couldn't remember how she left or what she told John. Perhaps she offered a friendly smile or maybe she told him not to worry for it will all turn out OK. He didn't know.
After the call John slept contentedly - anticipating his time with the wondrous Nathalie. The next day John rode the train up to Berlin where he happened on the pour soul of a man who he remembered had no place to stay that Christmas. After the Christmas meal the pour soul boarded a train to a city the other traveler had suggested only to have all his belongings stolen as he slept on the train after confessing his sorrows to a thief. John had no intention of hanging out with the pour soul and quickly exited.
Sometimes it was protocol to hook up with a fellow traveler upon a chance meeting. On the train ride to Berlin John met two Swedish women who seemed very friendly. They spoke to John with perfect English. One had a cold but opened up her bag and sprayed perfume on. Was this a signal John thought in hindsight? John oblivious took out an Ernest Hemingway novel and read. The two women exited the car and came back with a fellow with long hair and tattoos. Had John missed an opportunity? He did not know.
When John got to Berlin he accidently made his way into East Berlin. Finding a tourist booth they instructed John to take the subway back to West Berlin. By this time it was in the middle of the night. John planned to sleep on the subway only at each stop a loud buzzer sounded. In and out of sleep John opened his eyes and saw a man with a bloody nose and lip - John decided to get off. Upon exiting he was delighted to find a gyro stand. Next order of business was to find a place to sleep. He saw an open door above which was a word John thought was German for "room". As he entered he gladly reached a man only to have him start screaming. John left.
John resigned himself to walking through the night. He came upon a large cement courtyard and much to his luck he saw a woman dragging a suitcase. Yes thought John. The woman was going to some place to sleep so John followed. Sure enough she led him to a hotel. John found a person who spoke English, which he found out, in his travels, was not hard to do and asked the price for a room. The price was more than John thought reasonable so he asked if there were any hostels nearby. The man took him aside and gave him a better deal so John took it. The Hotel was large and John was on the 13th floor giving him a nice view of the fireworks for New Years.
As he always did once he found a place to stay in a new city the next order of business was to figure out a way to get around and find the museums. It always filled John with a great sense of adventure. Soon his thoughts turned to Nathalie "Will I be able to recognize her," he wondered even though he often fantasized of her face, a mysterious face filled with promise and magic. John didn't seem to mind being alone for New Years. From his window on New Years John set his camera for a long exposure so that all the fireworks would manifest as lines of light. John felt alive and vital. Soon he would be near Nathalie.
The unknown man’s apartment was sparse filled with only a TV, a bed, a closet, a guitar and a playboy magazine. He paid him for the call. Driving up to the unknown man’s apartment he remained quiet having just parted with Terra on a sour note. It was just like the woman in the opera who came up to John and asked why he was so sad. John did not know haw to respond but said "Yes I am sad."
"Are you missing something or someone?" she asked
John didn't say "I'm always this way.” It reminded John of the game with Chris in Delaware, when they’d say over and over "It all goes back to childhood," he remembered with a smile. Why was the woman so concerned? She seemed to be genuine. John couldn't remember how she left or what she told John. Perhaps she offered a friendly smile or maybe she told him not to worry for it will all turn out OK. He didn't know.
After the call John slept contentedly - anticipating his time with the wondrous Nathalie. The next day John rode the train up to Berlin where he happened on the pour soul of a man who he remembered had no place to stay that Christmas. After the Christmas meal the pour soul boarded a train to a city the other traveler had suggested only to have all his belongings stolen as he slept on the train after confessing his sorrows to a thief. John had no intention of hanging out with the pour soul and quickly exited.
Sometimes it was protocol to hook up with a fellow traveler upon a chance meeting. On the train ride to Berlin John met two Swedish women who seemed very friendly. They spoke to John with perfect English. One had a cold but opened up her bag and sprayed perfume on. Was this a signal John thought in hindsight? John oblivious took out an Ernest Hemingway novel and read. The two women exited the car and came back with a fellow with long hair and tattoos. Had John missed an opportunity? He did not know.
When John got to Berlin he accidently made his way into East Berlin. Finding a tourist booth they instructed John to take the subway back to West Berlin. By this time it was in the middle of the night. John planned to sleep on the subway only at each stop a loud buzzer sounded. In and out of sleep John opened his eyes and saw a man with a bloody nose and lip - John decided to get off. Upon exiting he was delighted to find a gyro stand. Next order of business was to find a place to sleep. He saw an open door above which was a word John thought was German for "room". As he entered he gladly reached a man only to have him start screaming. John left.
John resigned himself to walking through the night. He came upon a large cement courtyard and much to his luck he saw a woman dragging a suitcase. Yes thought John. The woman was going to some place to sleep so John followed. Sure enough she led him to a hotel. John found a person who spoke English, which he found out, in his travels, was not hard to do and asked the price for a room. The price was more than John thought reasonable so he asked if there were any hostels nearby. The man took him aside and gave him a better deal so John took it. The Hotel was large and John was on the 13th floor giving him a nice view of the fireworks for New Years.
As he always did once he found a place to stay in a new city the next order of business was to figure out a way to get around and find the museums. It always filled John with a great sense of adventure. Soon his thoughts turned to Nathalie "Will I be able to recognize her," he wondered even though he often fantasized of her face, a mysterious face filled with promise and magic. John didn't seem to mind being alone for New Years. From his window on New Years John set his camera for a long exposure so that all the fireworks would manifest as lines of light. John felt alive and vital. Soon he would be near Nathalie.
November 28, 2009
Guandu Temple: Homage to Tiger
Fish will swim upstream. Birds float gently in the rain. I came out of the tunnel to a scene of the river. Haze lies on the mountains. Turning around I see the 26-armed Buddha. What are you holding - I cannot remember. The color is red.
I go back through the tunnel. On the walls are low relief sculptures depicting scenes from tales I cannot understand. Periodically there will be a large window each filled with warriors, demons, 3-headed children, heroes and most prominently the great Tiger. Your spine twists around itself as you dance great Tiger.
I sat under the canopy. I cannot move - if I move they will see me and attack. There is the noise of water - they are going to pour water all over my back. I cannot move. Don't Look!
Oh great Tiger fill me with passion. Let the bright light burst the clouds. I see only grace and awe.
My leg aches but I still cannot move. A small child runs across the canopy floor screaming in a language I don't understand. The rain is now pouring down furiously. Gusts of wind lay down the rain in sheets. There is a sense of the mystical flower, like the lotus floating. In a dream world my eyes are blurred and out of focus.
Katie waves hello. I don't respond. How can I let such beauty go to waste? Get Up! Get Up! Don't let the dark images win - only light. The pain has lifted. Ease. Comfort. Peace. Thank you great Tiger for letting me see a small portion of your majesty.
I go back through the tunnel. On the walls are low relief sculptures depicting scenes from tales I cannot understand. Periodically there will be a large window each filled with warriors, demons, 3-headed children, heroes and most prominently the great Tiger. Your spine twists around itself as you dance great Tiger.
I sat under the canopy. I cannot move - if I move they will see me and attack. There is the noise of water - they are going to pour water all over my back. I cannot move. Don't Look!
Oh great Tiger fill me with passion. Let the bright light burst the clouds. I see only grace and awe.
My leg aches but I still cannot move. A small child runs across the canopy floor screaming in a language I don't understand. The rain is now pouring down furiously. Gusts of wind lay down the rain in sheets. There is a sense of the mystical flower, like the lotus floating. In a dream world my eyes are blurred and out of focus.
Katie waves hello. I don't respond. How can I let such beauty go to waste? Get Up! Get Up! Don't let the dark images win - only light. The pain has lifted. Ease. Comfort. Peace. Thank you great Tiger for letting me see a small portion of your majesty.
September 23, 2009
Short story
He woke up in the morning achy and withdrawn. School again. Ugh. At breakfast he watched as his mother ate her Cheerios. The sound always bothered him. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The silence was deafening. Perhaps it was filled with what was never said. His sister gave a knowing look and quickly moved the Cheerios box to block sight of her. The past night was again filled with the confusing dreams that he could never decipher. This one involved a vacuum that ran over a red carpet all on its own. John looked down the stairs at the vacuum. The image of the vacuum scared him. It was a lucid dream, which was rare for John. He sat down on the stairs and blinked his eyes until he woke up.
John got up from the table annoyed by all the chewing. Why did it bother him so much? Was it the silence - the deafening silence - of nothing - nowhere - empty. John got his books. The dream came back. Why the vacuum? What was so scary about a vacuum? Was it that it ran by itself perhaps run by some ghost or spirit? The night before there had been more dreams. That night red was also the color. He looked down through an open window to a couch covered in red - but the red was moving - blood? Again it scared him to remember.
The air was crisp and biting - John loved these cold mornings. What could he look forward to? Certainly not class. First period was Bible class. He always sat in the same seat just like everyone else. Jim sat across from him. That morning Jim chose to bother John. He moved to the front of the class, everyone still chatting, and wrote on the chalkboard - "John licks the eyelids off the fishes". John sank down in embarrassment as he often did: he did not counter or fight back - it wasn't in his nature. He burned on the inside. But what did it mean? Eyelids? Fish? Do fish even have eyelids? He did not know. The teacher Mr. Smith looked down at John and said "Poor John." It was awkward.
John remembered the first day of class when Mr. Smith asked the class "What do we know about Jesus?" The class went on about the life of Jesus - miracles, sermons, son of God, crucifixion, resurrection. But at the end of class Mr. Smith gave the twist, "We actually don't 'know' anything about Jesus from a factual, 'historical' viewpoint". John rolled his eyes - what a trick he thought.
The class seemed to drag on and John’s mind traveled to soccer practice after school. The Bible did not inspire him at all.
One of the first assignments given by Mr. Smith was to create your own version of the creation of the universe. John wrote about a group of stars that swirled and swirled - giving birth to a race of giants who sang a song and out of their heads popped the first man and woman. It got him a B.
His next class was across the campus. John didn't like all the people - why was saying hello such a struggle? He would rather sit by himself and doodle in his notebook. In English John sat uneasily, hoping not to be noticed. The image of the vacuum came back. It produced a sense of fear and excitement. His heart began to pump as the teachers voice faded into the background. He came back to the surface just as the teacher walked up and took his notebook saying, "Lets see what John has in his notebook." She opened it up and showed the contents to the class. All his copious doodles and class notes where now public. John shrank down oppressed by all the attention. He wanted to run away – to hide in a hole where he would be safe, safe from people. "Maybe I should be a monk,” he thought. But being a monk only in order to escape from life wasn't the greatest motivation. The teacher proceeded to shake Johns notebook so that all he loose papers fell on the floor. "I see you are quite organized", she smiled as the class giggled.
Caroline sat next to John. For most of the past 2 years John had fantasized about Caroline. She was beautiful - dark brown golden skin - brown eyes and attractive. John always tried to be near her. The day before John had seen her cleaning a table after lunch. "Can I help you clean?" he said. She smiled and John’s heart leaped her beautiful face lighting up the room. "I'll scrub this half and you the other" he offered. John lingered after the cleaning hoping to spend more time with Caroline but she just smiled and left.
John fantasized about Caroline all though the 7th grade. He had the courage once to ask her out on a date to the movies. "My father won't let me go on dates," was her answer. His sister had actually locked John in a room and wouldn't let him out until he called Caroline for a date. At a party that year John’s dream came true. They were playing spin the bottle. John prayed "Please let the bottle point to Caroline." His dream came true: he shakily got up crossed the room and kissed her cheek. There is a God he thought. But that was the end of it - nothing ever came of the kiss.
School was hard for John but his sister Anne was a light in his days. She was always cheerful and supportive: he loved her greatly. That night more red dreams. This time the dream was more complex. A man in a red mask was waving a knife, singing at the top of his lungs. A small rabbit ran by. John could read the mind of the man with the red mask as he sang. The song was joyous but what John heard from his mind was quite different. His thoughts said, "Take a cigar and burn your arm." John already had burns on his arms from years ago during a dark time. Why burn? John had no reason why. The urge was sudden and unexplainable.
John got up from the table annoyed by all the chewing. Why did it bother him so much? Was it the silence - the deafening silence - of nothing - nowhere - empty. John got his books. The dream came back. Why the vacuum? What was so scary about a vacuum? Was it that it ran by itself perhaps run by some ghost or spirit? The night before there had been more dreams. That night red was also the color. He looked down through an open window to a couch covered in red - but the red was moving - blood? Again it scared him to remember.
The air was crisp and biting - John loved these cold mornings. What could he look forward to? Certainly not class. First period was Bible class. He always sat in the same seat just like everyone else. Jim sat across from him. That morning Jim chose to bother John. He moved to the front of the class, everyone still chatting, and wrote on the chalkboard - "John licks the eyelids off the fishes". John sank down in embarrassment as he often did: he did not counter or fight back - it wasn't in his nature. He burned on the inside. But what did it mean? Eyelids? Fish? Do fish even have eyelids? He did not know. The teacher Mr. Smith looked down at John and said "Poor John." It was awkward.
John remembered the first day of class when Mr. Smith asked the class "What do we know about Jesus?" The class went on about the life of Jesus - miracles, sermons, son of God, crucifixion, resurrection. But at the end of class Mr. Smith gave the twist, "We actually don't 'know' anything about Jesus from a factual, 'historical' viewpoint". John rolled his eyes - what a trick he thought.
The class seemed to drag on and John’s mind traveled to soccer practice after school. The Bible did not inspire him at all.
One of the first assignments given by Mr. Smith was to create your own version of the creation of the universe. John wrote about a group of stars that swirled and swirled - giving birth to a race of giants who sang a song and out of their heads popped the first man and woman. It got him a B.
His next class was across the campus. John didn't like all the people - why was saying hello such a struggle? He would rather sit by himself and doodle in his notebook. In English John sat uneasily, hoping not to be noticed. The image of the vacuum came back. It produced a sense of fear and excitement. His heart began to pump as the teachers voice faded into the background. He came back to the surface just as the teacher walked up and took his notebook saying, "Lets see what John has in his notebook." She opened it up and showed the contents to the class. All his copious doodles and class notes where now public. John shrank down oppressed by all the attention. He wanted to run away – to hide in a hole where he would be safe, safe from people. "Maybe I should be a monk,” he thought. But being a monk only in order to escape from life wasn't the greatest motivation. The teacher proceeded to shake Johns notebook so that all he loose papers fell on the floor. "I see you are quite organized", she smiled as the class giggled.
Caroline sat next to John. For most of the past 2 years John had fantasized about Caroline. She was beautiful - dark brown golden skin - brown eyes and attractive. John always tried to be near her. The day before John had seen her cleaning a table after lunch. "Can I help you clean?" he said. She smiled and John’s heart leaped her beautiful face lighting up the room. "I'll scrub this half and you the other" he offered. John lingered after the cleaning hoping to spend more time with Caroline but she just smiled and left.
John fantasized about Caroline all though the 7th grade. He had the courage once to ask her out on a date to the movies. "My father won't let me go on dates," was her answer. His sister had actually locked John in a room and wouldn't let him out until he called Caroline for a date. At a party that year John’s dream came true. They were playing spin the bottle. John prayed "Please let the bottle point to Caroline." His dream came true: he shakily got up crossed the room and kissed her cheek. There is a God he thought. But that was the end of it - nothing ever came of the kiss.
School was hard for John but his sister Anne was a light in his days. She was always cheerful and supportive: he loved her greatly. That night more red dreams. This time the dream was more complex. A man in a red mask was waving a knife, singing at the top of his lungs. A small rabbit ran by. John could read the mind of the man with the red mask as he sang. The song was joyous but what John heard from his mind was quite different. His thoughts said, "Take a cigar and burn your arm." John already had burns on his arms from years ago during a dark time. Why burn? John had no reason why. The urge was sudden and unexplainable.
September 4, 2009
Tarot Meditation: 4 of Wind
Look upon the heavenly rainbow! It fills me with wonder and awe! I glow like a thousand candles underneath a crystal waterfall. The wolves are calling but I pay no heed - they are out of range. They call to the moon - which is my deity also.
The crystal pool before me is deep and cool. I penetrate the surface. All outside noise and pain fade away and I enter a pristine world of golden blue. What creatures do I see here? There is the octopus which glows pink, the blowfish billowing to itself, the purple stingray and the magnanimous killer whale. These creatures speak to me without voices. I sense their love and compassion. I am on a grand adventure!
Soon streaks of light shine down for it is time for me to surface. As I rise the light becomes more and more brilliant. I surface into a glorious day! I look at my reflection in the water - what attributes do I see? The simplest and most noble is compassion. I must fill my heart with compassion, the compassion I saw in the wondrous creatures of the deep that applies to all creatures of this and other planets. It is through this that I can conquer the world. I feel my friends swimming beneath me - I feel their love. LOVE and COMPASSION these are the greatest.
The crystal pool before me is deep and cool. I penetrate the surface. All outside noise and pain fade away and I enter a pristine world of golden blue. What creatures do I see here? There is the octopus which glows pink, the blowfish billowing to itself, the purple stingray and the magnanimous killer whale. These creatures speak to me without voices. I sense their love and compassion. I am on a grand adventure!
Soon streaks of light shine down for it is time for me to surface. As I rise the light becomes more and more brilliant. I surface into a glorious day! I look at my reflection in the water - what attributes do I see? The simplest and most noble is compassion. I must fill my heart with compassion, the compassion I saw in the wondrous creatures of the deep that applies to all creatures of this and other planets. It is through this that I can conquer the world. I feel my friends swimming beneath me - I feel their love. LOVE and COMPASSION these are the greatest.
August 27, 2009
Nothing Ramble Fool
buttermilk sweet smell
in the range of night
eat giant birds for dinner
all is well in the cave of uncertainty
Please drink of the end of the world
all the kings horses and all the kings men
raise up your hands and stretch your mind
in the end all inspiration lifts
call to the beast of burden
clamor at the sight of dancing
up in the sky dark clouds are heavy
in the dark shamrock succubus
angels listen while the first rambling
of the greater flight
eeks out of unfamiliar territory
towers loom - the crab must find the path
but the riptide sucks you under
enter the orange sips
organic system wind grateful
shooting star
always be conquer swiftly
purple eyes again
sanctuary - peace - grace
all turn on nothing
spin aimless
does the sphinx know?
use the rifle tangent
in the morning wonder face
the needy with personal discrimination
clouds sink the waffling instant
can the people see under
nothing ramble fool
in the grapefruit sunrise atop the volcano
wish to see lava
but the buddha is covered in pumice
on the black beach
a horse with no legs
I sit on the rocks and draw
play the game
return to the debauch
lick the sweat from her forehead
she had her leg over mine
injustice as he told her not to stay
next bus ride with a smirk
dinner spaghetti ring around the rosie
in the range of night
eat giant birds for dinner
all is well in the cave of uncertainty
Please drink of the end of the world
all the kings horses and all the kings men
raise up your hands and stretch your mind
in the end all inspiration lifts
call to the beast of burden
clamor at the sight of dancing
up in the sky dark clouds are heavy
in the dark shamrock succubus
angels listen while the first rambling
of the greater flight
eeks out of unfamiliar territory
towers loom - the crab must find the path
but the riptide sucks you under
enter the orange sips
organic system wind grateful
shooting star
always be conquer swiftly
purple eyes again
sanctuary - peace - grace
all turn on nothing
spin aimless
does the sphinx know?
use the rifle tangent
in the morning wonder face
the needy with personal discrimination
clouds sink the waffling instant
can the people see under
nothing ramble fool
in the grapefruit sunrise atop the volcano
wish to see lava
but the buddha is covered in pumice
on the black beach
a horse with no legs
I sit on the rocks and draw
play the game
return to the debauch
lick the sweat from her forehead
she had her leg over mine
injustice as he told her not to stay
next bus ride with a smirk
dinner spaghetti ring around the rosie
August 10, 2009
Poem: A Transfusion of Grace
Burning
the tooth and claw
yet another day
feel the ocean as you walk
Look and praise the sky
You - one with the purple eyes
let me into your mysteries
the butterfly lives in the
Ephemeral
she gave me such gifts
I must awaken
Blue and White stones are under
my feet
I clasp the wondrous vessel
Two white doves fly straight
Down
they are beside the butterfly
the crackle of snow
Bright Bursting Bubbles
you and I laugh
too
the Fool courses through my veins
a Transfusion of Grace
the blue and white tones again
I wade through the water
Oh great fish what is in
your Belly?
perhaps a license plate
perhaps some directions
perhaps a pencil
perhaps the phantasmagorical
your eyes are full
too
full of awe mystery and time
but what time is it?
time for me to run through the water
not walk
time for me to float through the grass
time for me to listen to
those Blue and White stones
twisting umbilical cords
they move in a labyrinth
Shall I meet he Minataur?
Will Theseus protect me?
soon he will ask:
"where is your case?"
I will answer
but the case is hard to grasp
for on it is the Eye of God
peering at us through the Pyramid
Go Forth
let the uncertainty guide you.
the tooth and claw
yet another day
feel the ocean as you walk
Look and praise the sky
You - one with the purple eyes
let me into your mysteries
the butterfly lives in the
Ephemeral
she gave me such gifts
I must awaken
Blue and White stones are under
my feet
I clasp the wondrous vessel
Two white doves fly straight
Down
they are beside the butterfly
the crackle of snow
Bright Bursting Bubbles
you and I laugh
too
the Fool courses through my veins
a Transfusion of Grace
the blue and white tones again
I wade through the water
Oh great fish what is in
your Belly?
perhaps a license plate
perhaps some directions
perhaps a pencil
perhaps the phantasmagorical
your eyes are full
too
full of awe mystery and time
but what time is it?
time for me to run through the water
not walk
time for me to float through the grass
time for me to listen to
those Blue and White stones
twisting umbilical cords
they move in a labyrinth
Shall I meet he Minataur?
Will Theseus protect me?
soon he will ask:
"where is your case?"
I will answer
but the case is hard to grasp
for on it is the Eye of God
peering at us through the Pyramid
Go Forth
let the uncertainty guide you.
August 5, 2009
Tarot: 6 of Fire - Hard Won Gifts
I see a glass ball: in the ball I see all the suffering I have experienced. What occurs to me first is a drawing I made when I was a young teenager. It depicted a ball, and inside the ball was a scene of horrific depression. The images were jagged, the faces tortured. Where did this come from? Divorce, neglect, depression, cruelty? I showed it to my sister and she agreed. It was an accurate account. Other images in the glass ball were ones of living in fear and doubt - suffocating within myself - quiet desperation.
Then there is perhaps the grand daddy image of them all, Schizophrenia. They say it can start manifesting at a young age. Was this the true source of all the pain and suffering? I don't know. It is always an open-ended question- it is always a mystery - nothing is set in stone - it all flows richly down the stream of experience.
This question brings up an idea that has inspired me throughout my adult life, and perhaps even before, maybe before I could even recognize what it was. The great muse of MYSTERY! What gift these glass ball experiences have given me. And I have already well named it - the awe and wonder of mystery.
I guess through suffering comes wisdom - so I have been told - but I don't feel wise. We learn from our mistakes but I don't feel educated. Perhaps this all sounds miserable but I don't feel miserable. I look at the morning sun stream through my window.
Yet I am forgetting the greatest of all gifts - ART! It is my true passion and I thank God every morning for this gift however mysterious its origins. It fills me with wonder and awe at this beautiful horrific world we live in. Perhaps I can transform the glass ball experiences into crystal bright light even if the subject may be dark. It all boils down to this: each morning is a gift.
Then there is perhaps the grand daddy image of them all, Schizophrenia. They say it can start manifesting at a young age. Was this the true source of all the pain and suffering? I don't know. It is always an open-ended question- it is always a mystery - nothing is set in stone - it all flows richly down the stream of experience.
This question brings up an idea that has inspired me throughout my adult life, and perhaps even before, maybe before I could even recognize what it was. The great muse of MYSTERY! What gift these glass ball experiences have given me. And I have already well named it - the awe and wonder of mystery.
I guess through suffering comes wisdom - so I have been told - but I don't feel wise. We learn from our mistakes but I don't feel educated. Perhaps this all sounds miserable but I don't feel miserable. I look at the morning sun stream through my window.
Yet I am forgetting the greatest of all gifts - ART! It is my true passion and I thank God every morning for this gift however mysterious its origins. It fills me with wonder and awe at this beautiful horrific world we live in. Perhaps I can transform the glass ball experiences into crystal bright light even if the subject may be dark. It all boils down to this: each morning is a gift.
July 21, 2009
Tarot: 7 of Earth - Teachings flaring to life in me
"Tiger Tiger burning bright in the forest of the night - what immortal hand or eye can frame thy fearful symmetry?” Or something like that. Poetry was never my calling. Am I a chosen one? Has God chosen me or am I called? What is the difference? Called to what? If God sent out a calling what would be my answer? Surely I am to be an artist - it is all I ever wanted to be.
In class Mr H gave us an assignment - write about what makes you special. I immediately thought of art. I described loving to "destroy the whiteness of the page" as part of the start of my creative process. He thought the phrase was powerful. At the time I was reading Alan Watts. He was Buddhist just like my teacher. Mr H gave me a book to read "The Moon and Sixpence " by Somerset Maugham all about the artist Gauguin. It was a snow day that Monday so I was able to finish the book. I was inspired. This little suggestion referring me to this book started a fire within me - a fire of the beauty and wonder of books. Up until then I had only read a few books. Something in the magic of Maughams writing excited me greatly. I went to extra help with Mr H that Saturday. In his classroom there was an Asian scroll of a man meditating. You see him in his house. And you see him floating off into the distance over fog filled mountains.
I was interested in the power of the word, which is ironic for I used words so limitedly. Holed up in my room I would draw a multitude of monsters and superherose. Painfully shy I rarely said “Hello” if at all. I would have loved it if I could hide away in a mountain cave like St. Benedict.
The word held specific power for me. Books on Voodoo and Santeria began filling my shelves. The magic of the word became my passion and obsession. If I said the right words could I change reality? The thought intrigued me greatly.
In the basement I created a studio - the heat above was oppressive - only a little cooler in the basement. There I embarked the world of fantasy letting my mind and intuition take me to new and greater heights. Excitement filled the air. I drew a vast landscape and in the foreground a man took root - literally grew into the landscape. The drawing was never finished and will fade into obscurity like I know I will. Perhaps I will fall through the cracks. Little did I know that 4 years later I would lose my mind.
In class Mr H gave us an assignment - write about what makes you special. I immediately thought of art. I described loving to "destroy the whiteness of the page" as part of the start of my creative process. He thought the phrase was powerful. At the time I was reading Alan Watts. He was Buddhist just like my teacher. Mr H gave me a book to read "The Moon and Sixpence " by Somerset Maugham all about the artist Gauguin. It was a snow day that Monday so I was able to finish the book. I was inspired. This little suggestion referring me to this book started a fire within me - a fire of the beauty and wonder of books. Up until then I had only read a few books. Something in the magic of Maughams writing excited me greatly. I went to extra help with Mr H that Saturday. In his classroom there was an Asian scroll of a man meditating. You see him in his house. And you see him floating off into the distance over fog filled mountains.
I was interested in the power of the word, which is ironic for I used words so limitedly. Holed up in my room I would draw a multitude of monsters and superherose. Painfully shy I rarely said “Hello” if at all. I would have loved it if I could hide away in a mountain cave like St. Benedict.
The word held specific power for me. Books on Voodoo and Santeria began filling my shelves. The magic of the word became my passion and obsession. If I said the right words could I change reality? The thought intrigued me greatly.
In the basement I created a studio - the heat above was oppressive - only a little cooler in the basement. There I embarked the world of fantasy letting my mind and intuition take me to new and greater heights. Excitement filled the air. I drew a vast landscape and in the foreground a man took root - literally grew into the landscape. The drawing was never finished and will fade into obscurity like I know I will. Perhaps I will fall through the cracks. Little did I know that 4 years later I would lose my mind.
July 14, 2009
Tarot: Mother Water - Entering cosmological love
Talking with a flower. This is my earliest memory. Twirling on the swing - dizzy and fun. My friend Deb and I would race all the time. She was always the fastest.
The day Te-Bo came into our lives there was great excitement. Te-Bo - master of all dogs - wondrous tennis ball retriever. Hitting the ball deep into the woods Te-Bo would always bring it back. He was intensely afraid of loud noises, which made the 4th of July nightmarish for him. We let him run free at night: hearing him bark - who would let him in?
Eddie, the boy next door, and I were buds. He had a Matchbox car collection that I greatly envied. His father had even made a wooden cabinet to store them, all neat and organized. Out in the back yard Eddie’s father built him a tree house - again I was envious. All along his fence his father had painted superheroes - Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman.
Eddie’s Father hated Te-Bo. He thought Te-Bo was getting into their garbage at night.
Their above ground pool became our summertime play land. Eddie had a cousin, Normy, who had a big crush on my sister Anne and would always try and catch her in the pool. Anne dreaded Normy.
Te-Bo lay on my bed at night. He was getting old and it became more and more difficult for him to get on my bed. I loved the solace and warm feeling of Te-Bo laying next to me. He started losing his hair. He would gnaw at his coat. It was tragically funny - he would raise his leg to pee and then fall over. My brother Steve cried the day we had to put him down. We all cried. No dog will ever compare with Te-Bo. He was legendary.
I used to love soccer practice. Riding in the car with Mom I thanked God for soccer. Danbury Storm. We traveled all throughout New England playing in tournaments.
I loved to run. Mat was the fastest on the team - he played center forward while I played right halfback. I would kick the ball as far as I could to Mat, leading him to the goal. We would go into the housing projects to pick up Mat for practice. Mat told us stories of white kids coming to the projects to buy drugs. He said a carload of white kids got beat up. Lisa also lived in the housing projects. She was my first love. I invited her to Playland to roller skate. We held hands during the couples skate. Our hands got sweaty. Lisa would tell me about the kids who got naked and played with one another in the woods. I wanted to kiss her but I don't think I ever did.
Mat came over one day after school. We surprised my Mom. Mat always liked my Mom. Years later I ran into Mat at the mall. I couldn't place his name at first. He was dressed in a colorful suit and his buddy was dressed the same. "Is this your girl?" Mat asked referring to my sister Anne. "Mat - its me Mat," he said. I remembered. "Tell your Mother hello," he said smiling. "I hope you’re still playing soccer," I said. He nodded.
Years later my Mom showed me the police blotter "Mat B. arrested with possession with intent to sell." We came from different worlds - I will never understand what it is like to be Mat B.
The day Te-Bo came into our lives there was great excitement. Te-Bo - master of all dogs - wondrous tennis ball retriever. Hitting the ball deep into the woods Te-Bo would always bring it back. He was intensely afraid of loud noises, which made the 4th of July nightmarish for him. We let him run free at night: hearing him bark - who would let him in?
Eddie, the boy next door, and I were buds. He had a Matchbox car collection that I greatly envied. His father had even made a wooden cabinet to store them, all neat and organized. Out in the back yard Eddie’s father built him a tree house - again I was envious. All along his fence his father had painted superheroes - Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman.
Eddie’s Father hated Te-Bo. He thought Te-Bo was getting into their garbage at night.
Their above ground pool became our summertime play land. Eddie had a cousin, Normy, who had a big crush on my sister Anne and would always try and catch her in the pool. Anne dreaded Normy.
Te-Bo lay on my bed at night. He was getting old and it became more and more difficult for him to get on my bed. I loved the solace and warm feeling of Te-Bo laying next to me. He started losing his hair. He would gnaw at his coat. It was tragically funny - he would raise his leg to pee and then fall over. My brother Steve cried the day we had to put him down. We all cried. No dog will ever compare with Te-Bo. He was legendary.
I used to love soccer practice. Riding in the car with Mom I thanked God for soccer. Danbury Storm. We traveled all throughout New England playing in tournaments.
I loved to run. Mat was the fastest on the team - he played center forward while I played right halfback. I would kick the ball as far as I could to Mat, leading him to the goal. We would go into the housing projects to pick up Mat for practice. Mat told us stories of white kids coming to the projects to buy drugs. He said a carload of white kids got beat up. Lisa also lived in the housing projects. She was my first love. I invited her to Playland to roller skate. We held hands during the couples skate. Our hands got sweaty. Lisa would tell me about the kids who got naked and played with one another in the woods. I wanted to kiss her but I don't think I ever did.
Mat came over one day after school. We surprised my Mom. Mat always liked my Mom. Years later I ran into Mat at the mall. I couldn't place his name at first. He was dressed in a colorful suit and his buddy was dressed the same. "Is this your girl?" Mat asked referring to my sister Anne. "Mat - its me Mat," he said. I remembered. "Tell your Mother hello," he said smiling. "I hope you’re still playing soccer," I said. He nodded.
Years later my Mom showed me the police blotter "Mat B. arrested with possession with intent to sell." We came from different worlds - I will never understand what it is like to be Mat B.
July 1, 2009
Tarot: 2 of Fire - Transformation
I see a wall of flame but I am not burned: the flame is blue I think it is an ocean. I dive in and the flames envelope me.
I burst into a thousand shards of light floating around the world just as a flock of birds floats gently though the air. Collecting myself as a single being I turn into a rock - a sturdy ageless rock. I live for eternity but this is something I cannot comprehend.
I have gone too far: I must burst again into a thousand shards of life and flame. But now I turn and collapse into a hole in the earth. Time stops and then time reverses and then I am above ground again only there is no civilization now. There are only plants and animals - humans do not exist.
I soak up the freshness of the air. I am free. The mountains are pure and purple the sky is golden blue. Gently flowing with the breeze all is calm all is peaceful. I could live here forever. The birds caress my branches and monkeys jump around me. Ants trample my bark. Serenity.
I burst into a thousand shards of light floating around the world just as a flock of birds floats gently though the air. Collecting myself as a single being I turn into a rock - a sturdy ageless rock. I live for eternity but this is something I cannot comprehend.
I have gone too far: I must burst again into a thousand shards of life and flame. But now I turn and collapse into a hole in the earth. Time stops and then time reverses and then I am above ground again only there is no civilization now. There are only plants and animals - humans do not exist.
I soak up the freshness of the air. I am free. The mountains are pure and purple the sky is golden blue. Gently flowing with the breeze all is calm all is peaceful. I could live here forever. The birds caress my branches and monkeys jump around me. Ants trample my bark. Serenity.
June 19, 2009
Tarot: 9 of Wind - Teachers
I was on a grand adventure. The whole year in Italy seemed like a fantastic movie -- getting better and better all the time. I was in Prague for Christmas. My classmate Terra was there with me and being clueless I made no advances. I was living in a dream.
One night we went to a restaurant and were seated next to two English-speaking men. I did not trust them from the beginning. We ate and I got the intuition that the talkative one was not exactly telling the truth. Terra introduced the both of us, "We're artists traveling around." She prided herself on being an artist -- a photographer specifically. After the meal we all went to a pub next door and proceeded to get very drunk, much to the glee of our newfound companions. It was the most incredible beer I had ever tasted - so smooth and fresh. The bar master immediately filled our glasses without any sign from us.
That night Terra and I had tickets to the Opera, Madame Butterfly, and I was excited about the possibility. The two men talked about a house in the country they have and maybe we, or more pointedly Terra, would like to join them for a while. Finally it was time for the Opera and it didn't look like Terra was up to it. But I insisted. I was drunk but could still walk. I had to prop up Terra. During the pub scene it must be noted that Terra seemed to lean suggestively on one of the men. I had seen this flirtation before because she had done it to me. We were not a couple - and never would be. Perhaps she realized this and was making other plans. But I insisted we leave for Madame Butterfly so we stumbled down the beautiful cobbled streets. We finally made it to Madame Butterfly and our seats were good much to my surprise.
Just as the Opera started Terra jumped up gave me her ticket and left. I did not know why she had left or why she gave me her ticket. Then it dawned on me - she was going back to the pub in hopes of an adventure. I did not know what to do - I was the one with the keys to the apartment and she was much drunker than I. So I decided to follow her and found her in the hallway perfectly white. She had just thrown up all over the bathroom. I took her hand. "We should go home now," I said - she nodded looking miserable. Back at the apartment she poured a large glass of water and put it next to her bed. I later found out this was for waking up in the night and being dehydrated. Apparently this was her routine on such nights. She took the large bed while I slept on a small cot. The next morning it was time to part - she needed to get back to Rome and I was traveling on to Berlin for New Years. At the station she left but paused to say "chi videamo" which translates into "see you later" or "I will see you again." I doubted that very much.
In Prague there was no hostel system set up so at the train station there are people that rent out their houses or apartments for a few nights. They ask you what you can pay and then based on that find you an appropriate house. The more you can pay the better the house or apartment and the closer to the inner city. The man who rented out our flat said he had a cheap place for me for a few nights. I remember blankly staring out the car window at night as we drove out of town to a series of huge industrial apartments. I think they took my reticence as being from Terra’s departure apparently thinking we were a couple who had just broken up. The apartment was sparse - not much furniture, a TV some playboy magazines and an empty bedroom with just a mattress, a closet and a guitar. He asked what I wanted for dinner - would steak and beer be OK? I said sure so he left and 15 minutes later came back with a full dinner.
I wanted to phone my friend Nathalie in France and asked how I could pay for the call. We worked something out and I called Nathalie unaware of the time difference. Much to my surprise Nathalie answered and my heart soared.
Nathalie is mythic in my life. My bond with her is deep and intense. I first met Nathalie when she was 16 and I was six or seven. She was a French exchange student living in our house for a year. We bonded on some great spiritual level and though I had not talked with her for years, I still feel the bond - the intense agape that we share. She was living in Provence as a high school teacher. She was obsessed with Jean Cocteau.
While she was living with us as a school project she directed a French play of her own creation for my second grade class. The storyline I have forgotten but my role I remember very well. I was the green dragon. Nathalie knew how thrilled I would be to be the dragon. We spent hours and hours constructing and painting the dragon. The final scene I especially loved for I was to be murdered. Choreographing my slow fall to death plus the appropriate cries and moans gave me a great thrill. There was some controversy for my final words before I died were "Oh Merde!" which translates into "Oh Shit" in English. The one teacher who spoke French shifted awkwardly in her chair about that one. As I think of Nathalie I feel she is one of my Muses. She is an inspiration to me - I carry her in a special place in my heart.
One night we went to a restaurant and were seated next to two English-speaking men. I did not trust them from the beginning. We ate and I got the intuition that the talkative one was not exactly telling the truth. Terra introduced the both of us, "We're artists traveling around." She prided herself on being an artist -- a photographer specifically. After the meal we all went to a pub next door and proceeded to get very drunk, much to the glee of our newfound companions. It was the most incredible beer I had ever tasted - so smooth and fresh. The bar master immediately filled our glasses without any sign from us.
That night Terra and I had tickets to the Opera, Madame Butterfly, and I was excited about the possibility. The two men talked about a house in the country they have and maybe we, or more pointedly Terra, would like to join them for a while. Finally it was time for the Opera and it didn't look like Terra was up to it. But I insisted. I was drunk but could still walk. I had to prop up Terra. During the pub scene it must be noted that Terra seemed to lean suggestively on one of the men. I had seen this flirtation before because she had done it to me. We were not a couple - and never would be. Perhaps she realized this and was making other plans. But I insisted we leave for Madame Butterfly so we stumbled down the beautiful cobbled streets. We finally made it to Madame Butterfly and our seats were good much to my surprise.
Just as the Opera started Terra jumped up gave me her ticket and left. I did not know why she had left or why she gave me her ticket. Then it dawned on me - she was going back to the pub in hopes of an adventure. I did not know what to do - I was the one with the keys to the apartment and she was much drunker than I. So I decided to follow her and found her in the hallway perfectly white. She had just thrown up all over the bathroom. I took her hand. "We should go home now," I said - she nodded looking miserable. Back at the apartment she poured a large glass of water and put it next to her bed. I later found out this was for waking up in the night and being dehydrated. Apparently this was her routine on such nights. She took the large bed while I slept on a small cot. The next morning it was time to part - she needed to get back to Rome and I was traveling on to Berlin for New Years. At the station she left but paused to say "chi videamo" which translates into "see you later" or "I will see you again." I doubted that very much.
In Prague there was no hostel system set up so at the train station there are people that rent out their houses or apartments for a few nights. They ask you what you can pay and then based on that find you an appropriate house. The more you can pay the better the house or apartment and the closer to the inner city. The man who rented out our flat said he had a cheap place for me for a few nights. I remember blankly staring out the car window at night as we drove out of town to a series of huge industrial apartments. I think they took my reticence as being from Terra’s departure apparently thinking we were a couple who had just broken up. The apartment was sparse - not much furniture, a TV some playboy magazines and an empty bedroom with just a mattress, a closet and a guitar. He asked what I wanted for dinner - would steak and beer be OK? I said sure so he left and 15 minutes later came back with a full dinner.
I wanted to phone my friend Nathalie in France and asked how I could pay for the call. We worked something out and I called Nathalie unaware of the time difference. Much to my surprise Nathalie answered and my heart soared.
Nathalie is mythic in my life. My bond with her is deep and intense. I first met Nathalie when she was 16 and I was six or seven. She was a French exchange student living in our house for a year. We bonded on some great spiritual level and though I had not talked with her for years, I still feel the bond - the intense agape that we share. She was living in Provence as a high school teacher. She was obsessed with Jean Cocteau.
While she was living with us as a school project she directed a French play of her own creation for my second grade class. The storyline I have forgotten but my role I remember very well. I was the green dragon. Nathalie knew how thrilled I would be to be the dragon. We spent hours and hours constructing and painting the dragon. The final scene I especially loved for I was to be murdered. Choreographing my slow fall to death plus the appropriate cries and moans gave me a great thrill. There was some controversy for my final words before I died were "Oh Merde!" which translates into "Oh Shit" in English. The one teacher who spoke French shifted awkwardly in her chair about that one. As I think of Nathalie I feel she is one of my Muses. She is an inspiration to me - I carry her in a special place in my heart.
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