Alone in a NewWay

June 25

ALONE IN A NEW WAY

I am restored.  I have my sanity like a spring coat.  I am not sure I need it but it’s nice to have nevertheless.  I prayed for this state of reason believing it would give me entry to a world where I was a late arrival.  Much to my chagrin I have found myself obscenely early to a party I am no longer sure will ever take place.  I stand in the entrance hall and practice new dance steps.  I search the space for prospective partners but rarely see anyone who is swaying to the same beat.  I am grateful for my sanity even if I have to enjoy it alone.

Write a sassy letter and let it dance.

*

I am Not an Island

Upon finding myself alive

I decided to throw my life back into the sea.

I was not living on this dry and sandy shore.

The baking sun does nothing to improve me.

I was belched forth onto the beach,

but never belonged there.

I tried to see myself as evolving,

tried desperately to sprout some legs.

Sucked air through my gills and attempted to sing.

I am not ready for this today.

Perhaps this is my future,

the way the current will carry me that I cannot  tell.

I do know I need the water on my scales

and pressure in my lungs right now.

I do not know what tomorrow brings

Or what I am capable of

just that I will not fault myself

for not having been born a dove.

Water Babies

June 24

WATER BABIES

Timeless babies bobble in their underwater positions.  Voiceless cherubs bounce and wink the river of their wisdom streams to my feeble mind.  The noise of silence wrinkles and tinkles as the waves crash soundlessly above.  My head fills; I must surface but beg not to lose my connection when I break the tension of top-side sobriety; I turn these angels to screened-off faithfuls.  I owe all I have to these aquatic infants.  Every hope, all my fear is held to test in the face of swimming heroines and their embryonic grave.

Read a poem to a plant.

*

Living as a Megaphone

He whispers in my ear,

I part my lips and let it all run out.

Vacant tube of a thing,

his words pour through me

nothing to stem the flow,

He hides behind me, the bully that he is.

I stand with rings painted bright concentric, bold.

I am nothing;

 I know it

and don’t need him to tell me,

My inactions speak louder than his words.

He is not the one who bore right through my core;

he is just the little worm who is living there secure.

I will have to purge him out to be his megaphone no more.

Too Far, Too Fast

June 23

TOO FAR, TOO FAST

Balloons filled with hydrogen race the atmosphere and fly away.  The effect is stunning, so much lift for just pennies.  The easy way has no line, no waiting; fast dirty service is available.  Risk assessment is counter-balanced with dramatic outcome, low initial cost and instant gratification.  How can I not want to rise above the crowd?  How can I not want it now?  Hydrogen is quick and plentiful, volatile yes, but why should this bother me?  I have a Higher Power to protect me.  It’s not as if I were playing with fire.  I am only tempting it.

Tell the tale of your life from the perspective of your thumb

*

For Want of Frith

I feel like I am standing on a trap door,

every flex in my footing triggers insecurity.

With my arms spread wide,

I think the wiser move might be

to hold them to my sides.

For if the little square did give way

my arms might be sheered off

with no time served for the tears I’ve cried

or the blood now shed sprinkled on the earth.

Step from this I tell myself

and do not make delay

for all the ground is not a trap

nor all the world a stage.

But is it not the trade in pain

that sticks me to this spot

and keeps me here for all my life

just waiting for the drop.

Inventory

June 22

INVENTORY

“When you say ‘self’ who ever do you mean?” asked my sponsor.  “Do you mean the lovely velvet child or the facade you built to show others?”

“Well, I wish I could answer you, I do,” my reply.

“I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety.  I love that you made it.  When you talk about ridding yourself of ‘self’ I doubt you mean this edifice.  Do you speak of some creature in the past?  Do you know of whom you speak?  Are you parroting then assuming this thing exists solely for you to now dispose of it?”

“I thought ‘self’ was self-evident,” I feebly interject.

“I want names and locations.  If you only suspect some of these entities please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions.  I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals.  I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping.  I see by the bright look on your face I have made myself clear,” she said with conviction.

“So, this is what you meant by self inventory,” I say and sigh.

Draw a maze of exit from a dilemma.

*

The Tide in Texas

I cannot tell you of my pain,

how the liars took me off my land,

how my heart lay shattered all around,

how I’m so foolish and left in town.

I cannot show you the big red ball,

which to me is a shame

or how it bobs and sways or how the tail of it hangs

out of reach and taunts me all the day.

But growing up to face the facts

and finding my strong legs

has put me to another tact

and sucks the mud away.

Sharing my disappointment and my grief

is like adding ballast to the boats.

It lifts us all instead of sinking me.

Not  much of a price to pay.

Fabulous (the early edition)

June 21

FABULOUS

“I don’t care what else is on the inventory.  You still have to take responsibility for fabulous,” said my sponsor with a determined look on her face.

“But you don’t understand.  The other things on the list make it impossible for me to be fabulous.  You just can’t see how incapable I truly am,” I say as I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair.

“What you don’t comprehend is that fabulous is not affected by your other little grumbling.  You can’t tarnish fabulous; it doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect.  This is why no matter how far you bury it, or misname it, or even flatly deny it, fabulous shines like a beacon and you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha on your doorstep expecting you to be who you are and let them warm in the glow.  So, my cherub, you can fight it or live with it, but fabulous is here to stay.”

And this ladies and gentlemen is how my sponsor wins all the arguments.

Pour a rainbow into your dreams.

*

Do Not Enter

Putting all the mess

securely behind that door is no protection.

If the keys are changed will I be able to open it?

If the locks retumbled will I crack the combination?

Like a demon sealed within a womb

emergence is inevitable either upon this mortal plain

or cellularly encoded and reborn at a later date.

Prison is what holds captive the innocent,

evil is always at liberty.

Walling off my parts and pieces

severs limbs and destroys thinking.

Loads of cheesecloth is what I need; filter and refilter,

catching all debris.  Putting the toxic things

to better use and making myself free.

The Palmist

June 20

THE PALMIST

Last night I had a silly dream.  I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said, “Today you will go to a meeting that will save your life.”  I thanked her and left full of anticipation.  When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation.  I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation.  I paid close attention to the coffee maker, those setting up chairs with me, and the newcomer.  I listened carefully to the speakers and the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer.  Nothing out of the ordinary happened… other than my realization that every meeting saves my life.

Believe in contradiction.

*

Notice

I put myself on the auction block

and wait to see how high a rate

I will have to pay to become slave to my illusions.

I have worked so ardently to free myself

from past enslavements and here I stand naked on this block,

selling myself and hoping I will fetch a price.

Poisonous pedagogy is atomized, contained in every breath,

I don’t know how to live apart from it

and thus I stand waiting to be bought.

It no longer matters how I got up here the first time

for who cares that slaves enslave.

All that matters is that there seems no safe way off this block

or out of this web, or down this street;

The world seems a bad neighborhood everywhere I turn.

Yet I must admit that standing here affords a view

I would not have if I were buying.

If I am a slave I can have hope of someday being free,

if I am a owner what hope might there be?

The Landing

June 19

THE LANDING

Risers and runners lift from where I stand.  Here I make my decision.  I climb and face the challenges of my life.  Each new test returns me to this square; the steps ascend in every direction.  No matter how many times I have scaled this set of twelve, I must start anew with even the slightest change of direction.  Like facets on a diamond’s base, the flights emerge from the tiny base and hold the world of possibilities within their meticulous surface.  I look into these precious mirrors to see who I am and where to go, though none of this would be possible without a place to stand.

Chart the constellation of your features.

*

In the Beginning is the End

I wonder if the road would show the reflection

of its end would I walk down it still.

I always decide that I wouldn't want to miss anything,

not even the most painful things,

yet this may simply be a flaw in my upbringing.

An overvaluing of survival.

What of you?

If the knowledge of beginning and end

were within your grasp would you begin?

Would you flee the end?

This end or every end?

Or is it the beginning that you fear?

And why not, for doesn’t every beginning

hold within it every end?