Monthly Archives: September 2008

Chrysalis

We’ve eaten almost everything.
Our skin is tight and itchy.
We’re crowded in our minds.

The fruit of frantic foraging,
the silken threads of distilled discovery,
we carefully grasp and arrange,
covering our nakedness
so recently confessed
as so larval.

Compelled, we exude our crucible cocoon
of knowledge, words, and appetite.
Twisting and jerking,
we prove our enclosure
then rest and wait

and wait.

What we shall become we cannot say.
We have never done this before.
This is chrysalis faith.

(Feb. 2008)

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Apocalyptic Rhythm

Feigning we’d acknowledge no successor
to the throne of our dimensions,
we would graphically display
the possibilities before us
and pseudo-judiciously
set our course for ever more.

We can run through the jungle.
We’re agile in the woods.
Yet though we know the world is round
we still fall off the edge.

Make us naked,
won’t you, Reason.
Take the Truth and grip us, free us.
Show us with your patience
the sources of the forces
that keep the worlds in ordered spirals
giving credence to your minstrels.

Smooth apocalyptic rhythm,
cast the dragon to the chasm
to raise the blind, rouse our mind
and send us off to school on time.

Our designs failing may deceive us
but new dimensions will receive us.
Have no fear.
There’s nothing here
that left behind should ever grieve us.

June 1987

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Humble Green

Across the sacred landscape
the horizon calls aloud
to seek and keep on searching
and never settle for what’s found.

Watch and see the endless lines
of better buckets offered,
rising, dipping, dripping —
evolving toward the water.

In the humble green he circles
all patterns come to bear
to gestate rhyme and reason
while life is in the air.

Aug 2001

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Squint

The squint
Is what prevents
The presumption of what is.

It protects
What we detect
From the crap that we project.

So squint, I say!
Squint deeply!
Squint in thought and deed.
Let things unfold discreetly
And infuse your hope with seed.

Strategic blindness serves this cause–
To lift what can be from what was.

9/23/2008

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Sun In Your Eyes

Sometimes I see the sun in your eyes
When you’re responsible for every shadow
But cannot see one!
Toward your good gift of light
I rotate my dark side for warmth.
Since you don’t, can’t see a dark side
When you are the light.
And your glowing gift
Grants me also the same glory
The same self-radiance.
I do want that sun in my eyes, too,
that sees no shadow.

8/22/2008

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Spin Time With Me

It’s such a small percent of yesterday
that hinders today,
Something sticky,
some inner taffy
That wants to   p  u    l     l           o    u     t             t     h       i       n
Like a spider thread
And again wrap again around again the barn again
until I again lose count again.

The Golden Spiral balance of habit and novelty. A living metaphor of sustainable, holistic growth, development, and evolution.

The Golden Spiral balance of habit and novelty. A living metaphor of sustainable, holistic growth, development, and evolution.

I did not spin Andromeda, did I ?

I did not spin corporate myopia, did I ?

I did help spin my children, didn’t I ?

I live here with you in ever-spin
where to learn to lose is to learn to win.
Here helter-skelter is simply
the pathology of linearity
and we’re immune.

We all were soulless cyclers once.
Isn’t it the spiraling evolution of consciousness
that leads us into and through
this momentary affliction of profane momentum,
of linearity, pseudo-progress, and separation?

Phi-Pi* is our healing Logos,
our reconciliation with nature,
our reunion,
our new day.

9/13/2008

* I see Phi (the “golden” or “divine” ratio found throughout reality) as the universal ratio between static and dynamic tendencies, between habit and novelty, between status quo and revolution. A centrifugal tether that both maintains and advances.

For me, Pi is the static spin, the protective circling of the wagons, the memetic entrenchment, the do-while loop, the rut, the ideological event horizon, archaic, magic, and mythic.

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Gentle Changes Mostly

Gentle changes mostly,
Many gentle changes over time
Take our curving paths through hot and cold,
conflicts and resolutions,
competition and cooperation,
forgiving and being forgiven.

The braver we become
the less we play with wildcards,
Our conversation slowly ascending:
from groin to groin,
then belly to belly,
then heart to heart,
and then eye to eye at last,
Time shows us how to be good for each other,
And how my real happiness is in your face.

Season after season we adore a deeper honesty.
We crave a crystal clarity as we tolerate obscurity.
We learn that snow-ness will prevail while each flake is unique.

I’ve heard things about you over the years,
But none of it matters,
None of it holds a candle to your eyes.
Let me look at you a little closer —
Yes.
It’s as I thought.
Perhaps you underestimate your beauty.
Perhaps you undervalue your wisdom.

With gentle changes, mostly,
We can walk together better now.

8/27/2008

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Object of Obstacle

I am become your trouble.
You can no longer think you are
what you thought you were.

I am the thorn in your side,
the faithful wound of a friend,
the itch that persists.

I am the bee in your bonnet,
the sand in your oyster,
the hitch in your get-along.
I am the stone in your path.

I am the discomfort,
the disequilibrium,
the burning question,
and the limitation.

Yet you are always dependent on me!
Without me you would not know cooperation,
collaboration,
learning,
or love.

In desperation you personify me
you demonize me,
you ignore me.
But all such efforts are mirrored back to you
and your own unfinished business.

You must ultimately love me, too —
far beyond mere sympathy for your devils.

 

April 2008

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Fiat Lux

(Let There Be Light)

Struck again by lightening
like there was no beginning,
no sending of a message,
no sublime presser of <Enter>.

Green is true and ever was
to imbue the shadows
where the hungry wait
to seal the fate of the choiceless.

The voiceless won’t be ever so:
things do grow — we’ve seen it now —
how time bestows ‘I am’ and sows
the seeds for was and will be.

It moves me, watching from the cusp,
this stammer-lisp of sea change,
to derange the old assumption,
gather gumption, and press on.

Only movement can be steered
by multi-tiered emotion
and children of the mindful wave
to save creative chaos.

We see loss when we venture near.
Things dear to us are tested,
vanities arrested in the tide
as pride subsides — is bested
by new visions for our verities,
new measures, marks, and similes,
new hopes, and dreams, and canopies
to shelter luminosities.

June 2008

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The Death of Merlin

What now is,
What may become,
And the lever betwixt and between
Whose grip Love alone can fit
To move and lift from fate to grace.

A place to stand she offers him,
The lever he reveals to her.
As one hand they honest grip and stand
And fulcrum Time at their command,
The mountain moves into the sea.

The painted circle spins, but not in-place,
Seasons return, but not to where they left,
Never back to here again,
Where the lever works but once upon fresh manna.

That elusive living lever —
That betrays both shield and spear,
That melts into the mist when less than Love draws near.
There are no lines that lead to it,
No circle passes through it.
Yet it waits for us beyond all secrets
Where Love’s vision never fails
And death is no farewell.

9/23/2008

I tip my hat to Bekki for a kindred poem posted 2/8/2009, “Fierce is his living

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