Labyrinth

Sunset in the labyrinth.
The crack between worlds
some say.
When day shifts to night.
Dew is forming
and floats to my nose
with the spirits
and the questions
God urges me on
with you just ahead.
We dance our questions
God reminds me (again)
that my wound is my gift.
(will I EVER get this!)
And I see my Dad walking along the periphery
keeping pace and still smoking, I see.
But not entering the labyrinth.
God tells me he’s sent me angels
at various times during my life.
They only help
If you believe, says God.

At the center, a figure carved in stone.
Jesus. Mother Mary. Buddha. Muhammad.
It doesn’t matter.
The figure looks off balance.
I feel an urge to straighten it so it won’t fall over.
But I can’t reach out.
It’s scary somehow.
To see imperfection in something we want to believe
is perfect.

8-24-08

Sparkly Raincoat

Snorkeling down
into the river.
Something yellow,
like a sparkly raincoat
sinking towards the muddy bottom.
I wanted it in my hands.
Very much.
Trying to dive
I couldn’t hold my breath any longer.
Choking.
I rose to the surface.

Later in the day
after a rest
I went back to look for it.
But the river was empty.
She said the tide is out,
the water will be back.

I doubt it,
I said.
And walked off the bridge.
Not planning to return.

8-24-08

My Dad and the Duke

Listening to the Duke
on my IPod the other day
my dad came to mind.

I imagined him dancing to Duke
and his orchestra.
Mabye at the Aragon in Chicago.
Possible steamy,
much like today.

I see my dad dancing
smiling and laughing
as his young body
shook and glided through the haze
of cigarette smoke and humid Chicago.

That’s in my mind.
But I recall seeing my dad dance.
just once.
At my brother’s wedding.
I’d always thought he was
very clumsy
and not an athlete.
Usually sitting around
and smoking himself towards the emphysema that killed him
twenty years later.

But that nigtht
he danced with my mom.
They were recently divorced.
But they still made quite a couple.
My mom had a look of surprise on her face.
My dad a look of joy and confidence
I’d never seen before.

As Duke himself used to say: “If it feels good,
it is good.


8-22-08

Legos

When I was in a dark place
and scared
and God wasn’t’ there
for me.
I’d play Legos with my son, age 5.

We’d build and build and talk and mutter.
I constructed huge walls and castles.
I felt safe.
Or I imagined I was safe.
Almost as good.

My son said suddenly, “Daddy are you worried?”
Safe for the moment behind the Legos
I said “No”.




8-22-08

New lines on the road..........

We left the meeting
into a breeze
from a mausoleum..
A death wind.

I gave so much.
Reached out my soul
to wrestle with another’s.

My spirit feels bruised.
Lumpy.
But mostly empty.
Running on empty.

Sitting, laying, silent in the back seat
car slicing the darkness.

Feeling myself come alive
in the darkness.

I am a fetus,
Rolling,
An astronaut
space walking in amniotic fluid
Landing and bouncing on elastic muscle.
I’ve arrived from a place
I know not where.

Past free-stall barns we ride.
Full of growth
inside slowly munching Holsteins.

The lights catch the highway.
Shiny, black asphalt.
New lines glow bright yellow in our headlights.
A new path perhaps?
Not sure.
Not sure of much, now.
How can a fetus be sure of what it does not know?
Has never experienced?

Later
we stop for gas
under crabby fluorescent lights of a convenience gas station.
The smell is stale soap, tobacco and a tinge of urine.
Has anything really changed this evening?

View from the bridge

On the bridge
for 30 years
watching the lemmings
every morning.

Some go east
but most go west.
Why?
No clue.

I notice
more and more
lemmings
every year.

This morning
a wind,
a zephyr,
I'd call it
whooshed through my bedroom
at 5:30
pulling me from sleep.

As I listened and watched the trees tilt
it was clear the wind was rushing
into a vacuum
sucking the lemmings
down.

The lemmings don't know
and don't care
about the vacuum.
They just fill it up
not aware of the coming end.

I rushed to the bridge.
The lemmings were gone
and the zephyr had stopped.

Calm and quiet
like death.
I knew right then
that the bridge
was all mine.

Wish

Memories
of music.
Seeing double
crying inside
little waterfalls
all over,
trickling into tidal pools.

Remnants of weeds.
Volcanic ruptures long cooled
into a salve
for the soul?

I'm not sure
but wish it to be.

Perhaps it was the wind

After several years
(seems a lifetime)
a small door
left ajar.
Perhaps it was the wind
that did it,
but really
all that
matters
is the opening
and what I choose
to do with it.

Following the wind into the sunshine.
Hugging the Light.

Everyday a Baby

Itchy
restless
afternoon.

Alone
except for the poodle
and my heartbeat.
Warm house.
Safe house.
Womb of my dreams.

Birthing come
when twilight
come.

Everyday
a baby.

This infant army
gonna carry me
down the big road.

4-30-07

Flash of Light

The long stair climb
left me breathless
but still able
to gasp
at you
standing gracefully.
Strong.
Balanced.
Smiling.

Straight into my eyes
Connecting
our darkness
in a flash of light

Fears go deep.
I hear the rats chattering
among themselves.
But caring goes deeper than fear.
Touch can reach
that far,
once the first flash of connection pulses.

4-30-07

Can You See Anything?

Stinky basement of my old house
Burial vault
Ghosts
Haunted
Sifting
Through debris
Appearing from the dust and mouse shit
Three black binders
I open the first.
Filled with poetry
Typewritten
Before computers
Who wrote this stuff?
As I flip pages
Spiders scurry away
Over mouse-chewed pages
Stained with urine
But alive, somehow

“can you see anything?”

“yes, wonderful things!”

As a kid
Wished I could discover a pharaoh’s tomb
Like Carter and Carnovan
But this
Wiriting
A treasure
Or a curse?

Today I see the three notebooks
On the bottom shelf
Waiting patiently
Until I have the courage to see the treasure

“Yes, wonderful things”

Does every tomb have a curse or should I just open the notebooks?

“can you see anything?
“yes”

12-9-06