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Friday, July 31, 2015

Beyond the meaning of what I say 7/31/15

I go where all of space has no occupancy.
I live as the aftermath from what insistently is.
I make myself dine on the fumes of now’s passing.
I dive off the cliff of expectation with perfect form,
only to act out what passes as life-rendered experience.
These remnants of passage stand in rehearsed familiarity.
I invest in the greet of what experientially comes
and passively diminish what has recently gone before.
The music of my life has melodic hooks as if patterns.
I hum those movements in song to fill the gaps
where inspiration or self-love or cause-worthy lack.
Spontaneity would be a share if I had the self of permission.
I kill time with mired distraction and distant preoccupation.
Even if love comes my way, I am only a spectator’s view.
I want to be where molten has no option but to live richly.
I only feel fully qualified as a bystander for passersby.
Even dried flower seeds have determination’s secret in tow.
My canary sings muted songs in the mine of my monotony.
There is an inferno of joy buried within these ramblings.
I am the expansion from tranquility embracing dark needs.
My methods molt as meaning gives way to sumptuous light.
I report of isolation as if it has a paradoxical must or need.
My static makes for commentary but my isness has no say.
I now don’t mean for your passage by understanding
but I do live in my attempts on behalf of you, to convey.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

service (haiku) 7/30/15

which is your calling?
the act or art of service
your heart will tell you

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Daughter Across Time's Lie 7/29/15

Her father put on the ritual robes of his culture. He disappeared behind the sacredness of his unconscious. He had moments for naming her wisdom. He was an unsupporting mountain in her sacred land. Where she was the weaver, wisdom was passed onto her through monotony. She diligently clothed herself in a style that reflected an oath to their separation. This place they touched as daughter-father, she keeps fixedly the same. Her joy is an unnamed parental hand pushing her away. He carried her in his heart, not knowing the contents of himself. Her lesson refines her with what she already knew. She learns to move within without having space. It releases her and nothing is changed. All her aspirant leaves for living kiss the roots of him by rotting. She has remade her one tender spot all over her. She feeds it the constant callousing of their separation. His absence makes for another orifice in her being. The wind of her humanness blows through her there. She is always in mid-poem, calling out for him as last lines. "The fragrance of orchid, working for the white crane, holds me for ransom." Her father made her this news but then subjectively named her, his loss. She punishes his ineptness with a lifetime of haunting to ripen her for another life.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

charisma (haiku) 7/28/15

selling the doing
with the presence of being
charisma of heart

Monday, July 27, 2015

Falling Asleep 7/27/15

Falling asleep is watching the mother ocean effortlessly scrubbing a busy day of beach impressions meticulously away, the fading of neon fireworks underneath the ever-droping eyelids into an inner sky, the body sense, lighter than air, ascending stairs into the heavens, effortlessly breath by step. Falling asleep is counting backwards, one hundred . . . ninety nine . . . as nothing more is numerically needed, a scattering flock of scavanger crows picking through leftover skybound thoughts for crumbs. Falling asleep is warm nest discoveries in a bed of settling-downs, waking up to body glitches then falling back to deep-sleep body dives. Falling asleep is lying in a massaging bouyant stream bed as the night flow whispers wash over you again and again. Falling asleep is the passage of every single image, softer to softest, until no edges remain, the miraculous soft landing of a potential pulmelting thud set against the slow rise of an eternal embracing hum. Falling asleep is the ball of your kitten conscious wrapped in the lap of your hum body purr, falling, asleep . . .

Sunday, July 26, 2015

giving (haiku) 7/26/15

nature of giving
is blessedness of getting
from gift of giving