If I name it do I know it?

March 19

If I name it do I know it?

Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name?  Far off I would be called earthling possibly human.  On this plain, female maybe woman; in this country Mrs. Theriault; in my home call me Sherrie, but in my bed hy calls me Baby.  Do these names offer the requisite information, no further inquires required, is it personal enough?   Is the limited nature a stunted interest from without or a privacy fence from within?  Does the boundary shift dependant upon the participants or is it an almost universal standard of metered advance and reveal?  And do I get more when I give more or does that end in less info and a change of direction?  Also who determines what I really need to know?  Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive, shutter and ask again:  Who are you?

Step toward yourself

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JAG

I have the most interesting lawn ornament.
It is long and sleek, low to the ground,
Resting on rubber rolls,
Steep of side and languid front and back

It has glass, glass which slants
And glass which slops into its sides.
It's paint shines when I buff it
And shows dust when I don't.

Inside there are seats and many artistic accessories
I sit on the steps and admire the thing
Then I sit in the thing and admire the porch
That's all there was until I was handed the key.

Sympathetic Strings

July 15

Sympathetic Strings

A guitar with 28 strings generates much sympathy from the cords which were not strummed. Pluck is contagious and inspires much harmony and verve in the vicinity in which it shows face. Sympathetic strings vibrate in response to the jangling around them but are tuned to their own notes. Much distortion adds to the depth of the sound created by this throng. Can you hear my life? How a disturbance in my life rings in the lives which surround me? How I twitch and chime when things are twanged in the lives of my neighbors, my friends, my kin. We make the music of care, the discord of reaction. To every move there is a sound, to every sympathy a harmony.

Surprise yourself with the light in your own eyes

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THE LIVING DREAM

Throwing yourself into the river in pieces

Drowns you as crumbs.

Casting aside love and longing makes you less

In your heart and your soul stops beating.

Pitching your tent with critics and complainers

Leaves you out in the cold on warm summer evenings.

Crest the hill to meet the rising sun

Orbit the constellations without hesitation.

Petit point the pictures in your mind

Then set them to music.

The world is your dream

Live it into reality.