Witnessing a Man

Poems2012thoughtsdreamsandotherrealizations:

Man, stand up.

You are no longer in your cradle .

I. Anger cuts through his body in distorted waves,

To my eye he is tucking and weaving like a boxer in a ring.

This swinging to and fro with eyes to the sky.

And an open window to his soul

He is taking auditory jabs as he speaks of the robbery of the working poor who feed the non-working poor: “The question is do you feel guilty for quitting work or stupid for not quitting before ?  Fuck it, who cares.  This is a tipping point.  I’m going to ’medical out’.  Everyone else is on disability.  Fuck work, I’ll get it for free”.

He is conquering regret with a heavy fist

It leaves me with a tender heart out of which I whisper alert and calm

Leaving a light trace of caring,
My imprint is a mediocre attempt at salvation in the middle of a shitstorm,
 “It’s ok” I say, as I stroke the demons from his furrowed brow.

II. The boat capsizes and is then righted

I am both a sailor and visitor on this vessel

I am open.  The breeze buffeting my open shirt

I am feeling the temptation of the wind – not a care in the world
while I watch my partner, snarling at my now-open sails

I am leaving  taking home to another place
=As he unknowingly hoists my freedom
And I, like a secret pirate on our vessel
I am guilty of high treason

-          Asia 2012

cosmic soup

Pulling one sphere out of dark matter
a drop of insight becomes a molecule

Cowboy Sunsets

In a recent stargazing moment I saw Jupiter
It was as the sun slowly set on the horizon
... and there was some peace that slipped in-between the sky and the earth
 a momentary pause, a cosmic glimpse to outer reaches of the universe
while parallel realities were slipping by each other
glimpses of love
of urgency
of must have's
while jupiter spun its usual course in the cosmos
 a sphere unaffected

It is not February 23 yet

Meteors fire like bullets out of a blackened sky
and my feet burn like embers

I leave imprints of Armageddon in the streets that lay behind me
and my eyes drip with tears of loss

Sunset.

The awe and splendor of the autumn leaves

shows no less spirit than the cutting of light through the woods.

As a sliver of light glides through the gap between day and night and pauses;

this quality of light creates relaxation; an ebb and flow of breath.
Just moments before the graininess of darkness
?  A moment of reflection, of gratitude, of life.

Sunrise

I wish to count how many dreams have been set by people who bound hope 

with the sun rising up over the distant horizon?

And my soul, no less, raises the sun this morning

on a standard of hope and desire.

Waves and Streams

What did you say?
The water was high I could not hear you clearly
Level with me
what is it you want

are  you conversing with me or talking with me to yourself

Taking a Journey to the Essence. Breath. Truth.

a seed is no more a human than I am a tree.  

This thought causes me to wonder, if I were comparing myself to a tree? how would  I build a me?  What do I require - is it sunlight, water, nutrients,-- or something more like sanctity, a knowing of 'home', spirit of integrity