P I E

June 19, 2018

 

“I’m quite tired of beating myself up to write.  I think I’ll start letting the words slip out like a tired child. “Can I have a piece of pie” he asks, and then he’s asleep back on the cusp of the moon.”                                                             ~ Jim Harrison

“It’s important  what I’m doing here”

I whispered in the corner seat

In yr Uberwaaaiting room

When I borrowed a pen

I had intentions one usually would wait on

But couldn’t just wait

.

I used to carry a backpocket pad

To  get it down

When I was a kid

I stole this bit from my 1st herowriter kid

Who I loved that he showed me sacred acts

I could write/

Caress the delicious lips of the Mystic/

And  Awe  All/

That comes of it/

.

.

.

“life is like a stage, I guess

love is stages of undress”

DELIRIUM TREMENDOUS

side effects may include

-absently staring into space (not time)

-walking into walls

-walking through walls

-delusions (the good kind)

-A cute optimism

-serious loss of scepticism, doubt, & Down.

-control issues

-Fact, being better than it seems

-a packed pocketful of dreams

-spells of snow angels

-pretty picturewindows in a bomb shelter

-There’s a bird on a word

-There’s a drunk in a midnight chord

-we all scream.. for vanishing cream

-Alas, Atlas, tonight at least…
-don’t operate heavy machinery

-Blue Skies

BREATHING EXERCISES

July 1, 2014

 

She won’t roll away & not watch me.

Y’see, I won’t  seem to take,

When I dream (or wake).

to take  another breath before

The scene fades, before

lights go up

then down  to more of a zoom.

She waits in our bedroom for me to resume.

II.

We went to go to a yoga class.

Where a barefooted, hairpleated group leader;

beautiful, and calmer than a

merciful last coma,

She insisted that our deep breath is

the gist of all of it  (within, & out).

We rearrange the short & tall of it.

The Gist to change the depth, see,

of our sea of possibillity.

When we inhale

we rememorize  our own gods.

We exhale our hell.  barefoot.  on a mat.

Whew. To that.

III.

When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico

I’ll try out the drink,  1st thing.

I’ll try not to think when I try to let go

&  sink when I deadman’s float all day,

into what I think of as a spiritual drift, in a way.

I’ll hold onto my breath,

face down,

head down.

Image

(painting,David Hockney)

,

,

,

(from 2011,on holiday)

.

.                                                                               –

 

 

 

Breathing Exercises

April 25, 2010

She won’t roll away & not watch me.
Y’see, I won’t seem to take,
When I dream (or wake).
to take another breath before
The scene fades, before
lights go up
then down to more of a zoom.
She waits in our bedroom for me to resume.

II.
We went to go to a yoga class.
Where a barefooted, hairpleated group leader;
beautiful, and calmer than a
merciful last coma,
She insisted that our deep breath is
the gist of all of it (within, & out).
We rearrange the short & tall of it.
The Gist to change the depth, see,
of our sea of possibillity.
When we inhale
we rememorize our own gods.

We exhale our hell. barefoot. on a mat.
Whew. To that.

III.
When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico
I’ll try out, I’ll run to the drink, 1st thing.
I’ll try not to think when I try to let go
& sink when I deadman’s float all day,
into what I think of as a spiritual drift, in a way.
I’ll hold onto my breath,
face down,
head down.

from a sweeping turntable, 40 years ago, in the dark
“Breathe Deep
The gathering gloom
Watchlights fade from every room..”