Friday, March 16, 2018

To become political prisoner is not good
I was prepared
By living for years in Oklahoma
They tell joke of man who learns he has six months to live
And doctor tells him
Marry meanest woman you can find and move to Oklahoma
Dying man asks if this will cure him
Doctor says no, but that six months will feel like forever
It's same for Russian gulag

It is not out of poverty
I eat my
Pea soup for breakfast,
But out of fidelity and devotion,
Out of love and true resolve,
Out of a hunger for human dignity
And a natural sense of purpose
In the earth and in the universe,
And with a prayer for all these things,
And a deep hunger for significance,
I begin my day.


Monday, March 5, 2018

If diamonds were queens
And green grass had wings
We'd stand on the sky
To wave goodbye to the not-so--puritan pioneers,
Black sheep who will marry their sons and daughters off
To the children of other black sheep.

A new tribe,
A new way,
And yet some young wanderer
Finds an old cave.

And standing in the midst
Of the vena vulva cava,
One is too close to see
The great hands carved on each side
Which hold the mouth open.

But once inside,
The vibe of the dark is holy,
And lighting a lantern,
The wanderer beholds
Bas reliefs from ancient olden times.
The wanderer gasps,
Blows the lantern out quickly,
And worships
The vast goddess,


Sunday, March 4, 2018

Om and Amen.
I shouldn't know these things,
But I do.
I've seen through Frau Konig's
Magic Mirror,
And heard the secret notes
Of Mozart's Magic Flute,
And by these means,
I am eternally knowledgable,
And yet, remain, as an innocent one,
A perpetual virgin,
As only the temple allows.

And if by chance
You see me tonight
Serving communion
Under the plastic conch shell lights
That are strung around the portico,
Find yourself, where you are on the spiral,
And try to decide
Whether to go
Out or in,
And then ponder,
Does anything really happen by chance?
Om and Amen.


Saturday, March 3, 2018

I dip myself into happiness.
Like a silver ladle,
I fill myself with the cool refreshing Waters of joy and optimism.
The chemical formula for dignity is
Two atoms of joy and one of opulence.
These bind naturally with great cohesion
To create a molecule so different
From everything except water,
One that expands as it gets colder,
One that bubbles up as it is heated,
Something that remains contented
No matter what force is ever applied.

And my ladle runneth over,
And my ladle itself is clean,
And shimmers with the abundance
That flows across it and drips out
To give life to everything it touches,
The magical, alchemical, effervescent J2O!


My coins are round and silver like the moon.
Cool and flat, I finger them in my pocket.
I consider what I may buy at the market.
What will I trade my coins for?
Maybe some rich delicious snack?
Maybe a bobble, a trinket on string,
Some colorful yarn with a feather attached
Which the market man tells me will catch my dreams at night
So that I can make them come true.

But I think if I'm going to have to make my dreams come true, myself,
I would rather have the ones I dream about in the day,
The ones I see with my eyes wide open.
Those visions gleam back at me.
They smile and nod.
They tell me to keep those cool flat shimmering slivers of the moon
All to myself,
Safe in my pocket,
While I stroll through the market
Without ever saying a word.


Saturday, February 24, 2018

You're a night owl,
And I'm an early bird,
But we meet in the barn at two.
You love me,
And I love you.
Birds of a certain feather,
Fowl that come together
To smile and flock and flutter,
To nibble the seeds that fell from the bales of hay,
And say, "Life is good,
And Love is food, too,
As far as the world allows
Between barn owls
And barn swallows
Who, at least, have something warm in common,
Even if it's only the barn part.