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Gazing at the Ocean

 

The vastness gets me,
sometimes; to see all this space
I cannot measure,
cannot obtain—and then
to see my human kin, just as
vast, measureless, objective
in such a state, a condition as this.

All of them new to the
act of human being, and yet
vastly more prepared than I.

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Passing a Stranger on the Footpath

 

Low eyes met
and the moment froze;
a flash

a candid viewing—
the whole air
held breath and here

you shall always exist.
You, held in new adulthood,
ripped black jeans endlessly under

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The Creek and the Tree and Us, Sitting

 

Let’s just sit here for a minute,
here, on this log, next to
the creek which flows strong and clear.

I have to show you this tree;
a tree from the sun, from the soul
on its own, a tree
on whose long furry branch
dangles wise chin hairs and me—
swinging in my hammock
safe and soundless
the wind tilted my chin for a kiss
every now and then.

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How I Get My News

 

I never regret
not reading the news.

The front page headlines written
by an aware individual
who keeps delight on the simmer
at having found the story of the missing child-rape case
first.
The television stations,
projecting visions of chaos
injecting emotion to hype it all up
get you going, get the fires lit, get the smoke signals out
honey, we’re not going anywhere for the next year
at least
I swear,
the world keeps getting worse and worse
we’ll just stay here and pay our income taxes and chalk our homes with toys and canned food
and we’ll call it all good.

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Teacher

 

Fingers of sea uncurl
against rocky black shores
inhaling
now exhale—
teaching me how,
guiding me
in the art form of breathing.

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Moment of Sentience

 

Naked toes nestle into
the folds of my hammock, which
swings, easy, like the gentle
head nod that accompanies
soulful conversation—the
air massages the oak leaves
above, and the four of us
are in holy existence;
synchronized we inhale
and loosen.

How sublime does it feel
to be aware of all this.

And to wonder:

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Incognito

 

Crafting a home from the bones up—
here, where homes feel flint to lay,
here, where wildflowers venture wild,
here, to the steady whine of the bus approaching
the red light, which dangles
in front of the library.

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Snug Wild

 

Atomic algorithms do
the soul not a lick
of civility—
these buzzy bites
aren’t earmarked for matrimony
to my holy pivot.

Nah,
it is wilderness
which soothes the ruffled soul—

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Trichromatic

 

From monogamous Mind
does Heart steal a kiss.

Stern rebuke.

For Mind is loyal,
frustratingly so,
to that rational lover
called Brain.

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Warm Summer Nights

 

It’s moonlight time
and I decide I’m insane–

with Seneca and someone else’s dog
for company, I consider life
beneath Davis jazz and note
I’m nothing like them.

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Maybe One Day I’ll Earn My Own Plum Sweatsuit

 

A pint of strawberry stems
sits plastic and dull
on the bench in New Lynn.
We share the space;
least I could do.

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Adding What I Find

 

When I signed up for this,
I was told it was my soul on the line;
that to do nothing
was as good as having nothing to do:
and that
was unfathomable.

Continue reading “Adding What I Find”