Fractal Trees

Where I live there’s daylight on the south side
and there’s moss on the north,
And vines wind up and around
and then release near the bottom.
Some of the vines are evergreens
climbing up the deciduous.

Who does not feel this weight and warmth?

The remarkable yet hollow Tulip Tree has fallen.
You can see it is already decayed far more
than the American Chestnut that fell many years earlier.

The wind and the rocky soil make the trees fall.
All of the fallen trees become more soil
for the next generations.
While we see this readily,
we generally fail to recognize
the fractals of our minds that also fall.
They fall around us haphazardly
and become the soil for new generations.

We generally fail to recognize the fractals of our minds.
Can’t we all see this?
When we don’t it is difficult to converse.

What is more disparate than trying to live linearly in a fractal world?
I had to unlearn and relearn so much just to see this.
Deep, deep joy is here for those who learn to participate fractally.

Stresses

I remember considering stresses –

Seeing the troubles of
too little
and too much.

We too often fail to regard
how stresses form us.

Too much stress in our youth
    leads many to avoid any.
To little attracts the wrong kinds later.

It is good to attract formative and positive stresses.
They become a healthy delight.
They make it easy to avoid useless, negative stresses.

Consider your stresses,
both self-generated
and from life situations.
They are your gift,
able to transform and develop you
into a positive and uniquely formed person.

Laughing Woods

The woods are full of laughter.
I’m where the limbs are fallen.
Many are around me
fallen gracefully
as is often our privilege.

Some are flat on the ground.
Some are leaning on the living.
Some are standing tall, dead, bark-less.
The variety is beautiful!

Some still alive have fallen on dead ones
which had fallen on the living
which hold up all of them, yet.

The laughter resounds!
The peaceful decay at all angles,
breathtaking !

Serendipity

A fugue of feathers
A tight of twine
A river stone
and totem shine

Hope

Sorry to be so absent! I had a couple strokes and have had to relearn how to earn a living.
I fully hope to return, and I have good reason to expect it!

Wayne

Contraction Timing

You were born yesterday,
and again this morning,
and again we hope tomorrow.

Why, I asked,
are babies born so naked,
with their water flowing to ground, and
their fire flowing to sky
so perfectly — so automatically?

It creates currents that form
the multi-vortical human mindscape
where every spin the now-ist sees
as yesterday’s pre-reality.

You can’t make the same sacred snapshot twice:
no matter how terminally indignant
the weekly pattern-monger’s habit,
Love remains the fulcrum and
always moves above a still.

It’s a fragile eternity that yields
an allergy to urgency,
no appetite for the Bantu fractal or
the circumdancing flower of homo-spiritus,
or the growing rampant glory of identity
taming the local lizard.

But we can see the buds on gravid branches
all watching in their special ways
to be the stone, the bird, the tree,
the proactive jazz blossoms,
the spin-bombs of living Logos
bringing on more contractions…

First published at vox poetica.

Beings Talk

Beings talk o’er tea in my backyard,
(An axe-free zone, you know.)
Without a care we can share our heart
In the yard where beanstalks grow.

Rest assured there was a row
When I first did the deed:
Trading up our holy cow
For the ugliest of seed.

But I would not exchange my lot
For a herd of fat bovine,
While communing in my yard, I got,
And is what I hold divine.

In here
We defy the demons
Of the strangled world
Out there.
We trade in cryptic currencies
And give time a little air.

The calculus of becoming
Is how we count our blessings
And inspirations aren’t exhaled,
But shout, “Credendo Vides!”

Beings talk o’er tea in my backyard,
(It’s an axe-free zone, you know.)
Without fear, here we share our heart
In the yard where the beanstalks grow.

Nut Tree

A buried nut, I found
it was not me
but for you
I would pursue
a tree.

Meaning

Standing rigid
in the sparkling river
he grips his cup downside up.

Dry and thirsty
he gathers his resolve
and curses cups.

Right it, please, I urge him,
but the message flows off the rim
into to the sparkling river.

Faith in Becoming

The songs we sing crawling
are not our walking songs,
which are not our swimming songs,
which are not our flying songs.

Crawling songs will stand up,
the walking songs will dive in,
and swimming songs will take wing
and sing
the songs of being
and the joy of crawling
until walking
until swimming
until flying,

and sing
the love that flies
at eye level
to any crawler, walker, swimmer, flier,
and that dances to all the songs
while imparting the faith in becoming.