What’s Coming

At the top of my list, of course,
is breath, but my next best friend

is death. They walk me, teasing,
loyal life wants to live

escorted in the arms of lovers
dancing in the flavors love

layers. Naming every birth
we create separation illusions

with our powerful beliefs
that sweep us past and future

rocketing by the song-now.
Birds chittering through oldgrowth

forests sound the alarm as we
play foreigners, our roots forgotten

we emerge from trees
and soil, composted

through uncountable millenia.
We chirp until named, we spread

our wings in arrogant denial
a flurry of greed to clothe ourselves

in what we buy in fear of
our imminent demise. Missing

the call to shine, eminent
moment of this particular voice

in this astral alignment.
When we walk in peace with our death

unafraid, we open up the stranglehold
past, let go of the predetermined

future at last, the patterns blown
in our explosive joy.

Death isn’t lurking, looming, it’s coming
for you now in deep orgasmic waves thrumming:

Our only prerogative, let’s be clear,
is to be alive right now, right here.

Inspired by Prerogative, Explosive, Foreigner and Eminent.

Soundcloud recording here.

The Masquerade

Today is my grandpa’s birth-

day, born 121 years ago,

and isn’t it astounding

that I keep him alive

in my heart?  I know

and love someone born

in 1898.  Love travels

through time with laughter

and wit, weaving lives

together in tapestries

that cannot be destroyed.

We vibrate in these intense

emotions that construct

our very world, carved

into the epigenetic stories

that move us, unseen

and celebrated as we breathe.

Inspired by the unconditional love he gave me, and this photo from Halloween in 1926.

Rewriting The Definition

Tall black-eyed susans push past

a low cloud of moonbeam

coreopsis. A crowd at

the strictly enforced border.

A blushing nymph

waterlily suns herself in the lake,

invasive as all get out

a pithy warning —

settlers’ sly insistent creeping.

There’s no room.

We squeeze each other out,

every inch of this perfect

green lawn saturated

with poisons for perennials,

marauding insects, crushed. The sweet autumn

clematis has leaped

to the shoreline, her bold daughter

blooming in white fragrance.

Chocolate mint escaped a container

to luxuriate in this lakeside

property.  The natives are absent

except for one ancient poplar

and her old granddaughter.  They hold long

conversations underground

minding the aquifer.  Their silly leaves

play peek-a-boo with the beings

who flitter in branches and sing

nursery rhymes.  The chill

in the foreboding air.  The after-

taste of toxins.

Surely spring

is bound to follow

winter with vibrant new

species, resistant to the cancers

so carelessly created

as we succumb, unseeing

in our technodaze

to the newest wave of life

wanting to live.

 

Inspired by: definition, pithy, absent, bound