Monday, July 28, 2014

S4 — Breaking Up Is Hard Nondoing Too

It was early in the process of discovery
I knew the two of us would lose each other.
Paradox is not unknown in love.
At first our paths continued, one upon the other,
but soon we found ourselves in the yellow wood.
It didn’t happen overnight and all our efforts
to maintain separating ways together met
with personal effects like alcohol on my behalf
and a drier kind of melancholy in yours.
You finally had the nerve to call it quits
but even that was met with one more year of trying.
It’s over now; surrendering to that which is
can really be a bitch. But that’s the point.

You said that day you liked the middle class
and I was always making light of it.
That’s forever been the case with me.
It’s just my form of self-assessment.
Even though I’m living now without
the greater luxuries I once afforded,
I’m not exactly third-world poor—
thank my daughter and her Major.
This is the present empire after all.
But I know your fears about security
for I’ve seen you lately follow them
and then convince yourself you hadn’t.
That’s the way of people though, divided.

The path I’ve taken teaches seeing this,
to recognize such separation for what it is,
to know the false as false. That leaves pure being,
not being this or that. And being tells one all that is—
and That which absolutely isn’t takes one back.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Song-stream 3 — Incident on Sky Mountain

There’s a mountain lofty enough
it takes two days to make the peak.
It rises in the heart of a desert
where nomads pray to any passing mirage.
They’re satisfied to dine on scorpions
while downing barrel cactus juice.
They hallucinate of cubicles
floating in a glass of cabbages and ginger
looking at the rain streak the skylight
hoping they’ve secured the windows
in their newly-leased Honda Civics.
One of them flies out the door to check
but strikes the mountain there instead.
Soon she’s in a globe of berries.
The air is fragrant with exacting freshness.

She sees above the ripples of heat;
there’s not an office in her eye.
Half-way up she finds a halfway house.
It’s an edifice she’s yet to dream.
She’s genially greeted at the door
and welcomed with the latest reality
of living rooms and large flat screens
with twenty-four hour interruptions.
Exhausted with the climb, she wants to stay.
Twenty years later, she’s out to catch a breather
and meets a mad man coming down the mountain.
Maybe it’s a mad woman. He raves or she raves,
“You’ve stopped believing in a personal god,
but you’re still believing in the personal!”
and then turns to return to the sky.