long discursive fever dreams
drift without effort but still somehow
heavy with the heated weight of story
not mine always
slow building intense profound
teachings light and delicate as spun fairy sugar
reach too tightly and they dissolve
relax and they linger
sweetness dropping as a seed within
I sit within the silence of distraction held by the noise of morning’s rush
rumble of trains and shriek of car alarms
industrial counterpoint to ongoing birdsong and chatter of squirrels
louder than any of these the clangor of mind
bang and buzz of thoughts going here there off in every direction
follow me follow me follow me each one cries
I pay every due a brief nod of acceptance bid farewell continue to sit
aware in the swirl of cacophony
not yet gone beyond but here and here and here
once I looked at the sky and did not see sky
no blue just color no cloud just shape no sun just heat
stared longer until those were gone
because I had cast all I was upwards
joined with the vastness I too disappeared
now here I am and there is the sky
if offered the chance to talk with a god, I would decline
capricous beings, prone to moving in mysterious ways
no mystery really but play to bewilder those who believe
a reality show writ on larger screen with dramatic weather
a distraction for deity and faithful alike
watch and take part if you must keep so busy
meanwhile I have things to do
I practiced from the very beginning
machines made me breathe
strangers touched me with love
for my first three months these sustained me
gave me reason to return again and again
I did not know I was not machine
unrelated to the always present gentle hands
I have never forgotten those earliest teachers
and now dying gets easier every time
here the antechamber
a dreary room small and drab
unfurnished lit only by a neon light
flickering threatening to go out
the floor covered by a slick of mud
tracked from other peoples’ shoes
once this seemed the world
brilliant views of an endless sky
a sun that shone on verdant fields
now older and my eyes fail
clearly the illusions fade
know where I wait and why
nothing in this day is mine, nothing ever mine
I am empty
could not see this today, too full of self
falsely disconnected
everywhere felt strange, everyone a stranger
forgot to bow in wonder, did not smile in thanks
all family everywhere, related to me over and over again
if I could remember to see
let sadness rest a brief cloud of ignorance, not make it the sky
I could hold out a hand to you all the ones of you
open it, give you a heart a flower a bird poised to fly
because the tidal overwhelm of war remains,
and women cry until they have no voice
and orphaned children die in cratered streets
and everywhere men kill other men because they can.
I sit with my back straight and become glass.
all the grief of the world washes through me
and through you, a darkened ink of light.
we breathe. all we can do.
because the common squabble of life constantly rains,
and this one accuses that one over something
and words become harsh here there everywhere
and bitterness becomes ordinary coin.
I carry kindness in my pockets to give away
as do you, little bits of good to see us through the day.
we smile. all we can do.
we all do what we can. that is all we can do.
he came dressed in knowledge
with offers to drape well-being around me,
a scarved testimony to his infinite powers
eventually I saw him in different garb,
the endless flow of information worn thin
though never transparent
when you know everything about everything
how can you let people see you
bend under the weight of such heavy self-regard
the burden of always being right
I’m happy scrubbing dishes and cleaning the floor
until I am home, there is tea.
since I have no home, I have tea.
anywhere I dwell is temporary.
cups also; they break, are given away, or simply disappear.
tea remains,
each sip lasting as long as one breath.
that is enough. that is all.
