If Garfunkel Was Here

May 26

If Garfunkel Was Here

Speak of the dead and paint the living.  Paint them in a good light when you can and into a corner when you have to.  Read the books of future generations rather than acting as the arrogant, who attempt to write these volumes.   Expunge nothing leave it all on view, but move past it after taking in the implications.  Water flows under the bridge until it collapses then it carries the bridge away.  So, speak of the dead don’t drown them, paint the living don’t stain them, look to the future don’t dictate to it and let the water run.

Rinse off your first impressions

*

FREQUENTLY

When my daydream gets so threadbare

I no longer use it

I must turn to other sources.

When I cannot conjure on my own

And elucidation makes me cross-eyed

I must turn to HP.

I have puttered and prolonged

The way to naming this legendary

And fabulous enigma.

I drew out even longer

Any desire for close association

With the same.

I have milled with the millstone

And surfed in the whirlpool

Drug my feet and thrown a fit.

This only stalled the inevitable result,

Naming and interaction is the need

And now is the time

I have a Higher Power

And I chose to call it

Frequently.

Sharing

August 3

SHARING

Please take a bite of my PB&J.  I made it myself.  It is fine as it is. I slathered the bread and cut it so neatly; still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.  I know that to stand and smile next to you, watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth, have you dab the jelly from the corner of my lips, will make this sandwich even better.  You bring so much to this meal, something bright and so clever.  You bring you. I can pull things together and set it all up but somehow my creation is never quite complete until I share it with you.

Withhold a convoy of criticism, advance a brigade of cheer.

*

Big Name

My name has a foreign sound;

my head turns when it is called.

I recognize this as training not identity.

I remember teaching the dog her name.

I called it while petting and praising her,

soon the name was hers.

Now, I think of God.

Did we call long and loud enough

to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible?

Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable;

assigned it a place on a shelf;

somewhere to be called up from?

Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables

of my name sound to me?

Does it matter as long as we answer?