Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Rahima



 

Rahima

Unexpected always,
Like wild strawberries
Or lupine in dunes
Appear and hold earth together,
You walk with an open book
Beyond the brim of my hat.
I look.
"It's only a mystery," you say.
Yes, it is certainly that:
You on the path to
Rahima, bright day;
Me, trimming escallonia;
Detectives on separate ways
In an old universe
That still glistens.
You speak.
I listen.
"This, I am more.
Something else that is more."
Hair full of fairylamps,
Downward flutter of fingertips,
A gesture stirring stellar dust,
And I believe you,
I must.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

Enormous Future



It's all here, isn't it?
This collection and
Dream upon the past--
What happens is
What happened last
Always shut in seamless
Suture-- gives anew
Onto wonders vast,
An enormous future.

Friday, May 11, 2018

Image Available

My compound eye
Spies old friends
Moving out --they go.
I shout: no, please stay!
Sadness, they have
Found some madness
And followed it away.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

In Judgement



I have tried to do
As I should.
I have tried to be good
In this miracle of you--
This sphere of sea and stone.
We know we're not alone
But part of you, Universe--
Your heart and first
What your vision sees.
Overhead, the moon 
Gets snagged in trees.
This is understood.
I try to be good,
But nothing could induce
Me to climb and set it loose.


Monday, March 26, 2018

Cogito Naranjado Sum (2)





We  think, 
Therefore are,
And must be--
Here to think, 
And be, by asking
How: how is such
Thought defined 
As much by what is 
As what is not
Then all thought
That is not me,
I must also be. 

*****************************************
 Cogito Naranjado Sum (1) appeared 4 years ago on this blog after decades of tinkering. I revisited it this evening with the intention of correcting a fallacy. I don't blame Descartes --beyond "The Substance of Dualism"-- but only myself. If we consider an entity, like a cat curled up asleep in a pie tin --as one of ours often did-- we see some existence is fluid, seeking the shape of its container. So is thought. That's really what this poem is about. Enough said. I welcome opinions, all opinions --and appreciate them without criticizing them.

Saturday, March 3, 2018

Thanks Lisa, 7:27 P.M.




Each daffodil echoes the
Universe in explosion.
We're all dust from
The same flower. 

Saturday, February 24, 2018

March, 2013



77000-Year-Old Bedding Found


[Prof. Christopher Miller sampling sediments. (Credit: Prof. Lyn Wadley, Science Daily)]

This is where they
Laid their heads.
They fell asleep.

We found their beds.
Between lines three
And four is a space,
Punctuation indicating
A pause of
Seventy-seven thousand
Years --amnestic mornings,

Nestled in settled stone
Waking alone, eager,
In love or sad, in
Their beds where they
Dreamed, worried,
Trysted, cried, laughed,
Whispered, petrified.

Here on prehistoric
Beds, this is where
They laid their heads.