working it out

we, escaping senseless brutality in mindless drift,
may move through the world equipped with
blinders and coded boundaries, not seeing
what we see, but what we have told ourselves,
been told, believed so long, more cogent thought 
is never sought.
.
we, caught in self-defining dramas, regrets,
desperate pain,
recoil from compassionate connection that
would be our one true hope for humane
community of mutual repair, future reborn.
.
we cry, toil onto silent pillows or outward
to The Universe of our loneliness, then shun those
we cross off as not who we want to be.
we decry inhumanity writ large or small seen
on our screens or streets or halls, but softly
or to agree
— and just what is humanity?
 

Late August

Late  August yearns for Fall.
Orange gold dreams carry like song on rustling breeze.
Stories not quite heard but deeply
remembered hold tight, disturb
today’s warm pleasure with a slow excitement.
Dear old friend, abiding connection
to Earth’s magic,
safely ecstatic within this familial whirlwind,
this life defined by change.  Who am I  but foreground
actor on this recursive stage, poet and sage —
but only as my role in this world play.
Wandering mindscapes, withering days,
darkness in ascendance.  Summer releases its musk to dissipate
in long evening sky.
Every day deserves its acknowledging ritual,
notes in a chain that love us, random beings,
to meaning.

Deep Summer Vision

I believe that all the lonely people
should get together and end loneliness
in our lifetime
I believe in making Peace The issue
I believe we are all part of a plan of our
own forming
I believe people want to get along up
to the point when they want to fight and
expend pent up rage
I believe people project on our opponents what
we perceive as our horrific sins
I believe there is ultimately
nothing to win
)
knowing is knowing that knowledge is infinite and diverse
believing is believing all possibilities worthy of discussion
Meaning making makes meaning with bright intersecting strands
Doing, doing is an outgrowth of knowing, believing, making meaning
Repurpose our energy, efforts unraveled
fighting ourselves over uncertain destiny;
emerge to vibrancy in the creation, the industry,
to make this place our world where we all
enjoy peace.
)
Beautiful dreaming
lavender and pixie wings descend,
wisp and bow, open that flimsy veil
of weary distraction.
Here Now Ever an instant of bliss and woe.
Songs of weep and wind flutter, brief embrace.
And I sing, ecstatic scream, whirl of always dance,
sinking, diving, for the thrill of emergence.
All those words I
was so intent on
memorizing. Lost, like the
wind and the love song,
the barren sand, lonely
inspiration.
All those songs, sad or
uproarious, orchestration
to impulse forward.
Jazz for imagination;
rock for consolation; blues
for mornings’ and nights’
endless grind.
Where is that kind word
to carry like deep warming balm?
Where is the strengthening psalm,
the wisdom spell?
If you knew, would you tell?
No, you would already be gone.

trans

Trans
 
 
You are not a woman in a man’s body/ a man
in a woman’s body.
You are you in your body
And
your interests and desires are not what you’ve
been taught
to want.
What do you want?
In tense deep night conversations
with inheld voicing,
what do you say?
Do you believe
“I was born wrong.”?
try to deceive with longing fantasies
of how life might be derived from choice,
free of man made realities?
“Heal me.” you implore of bare air.
“Teach me not to care, or to disappear.”
This world has become so small.
Barely room to breathe soul exhaust.
Survival’s not worth the cost of your
one true life.
Double bind.
Once there were heroes, transcending self
definition to live one true moment (however long).
Transcend myths; claim your interests and desires
if only for a moment,
be alive,
strong with desire
without feeling wrong (unless what you want is
self-flagellation).
What does the you that’s true want?
Body, mind, soul?

Into Enchantment

It hurts me that it’s June,
a month of hope and resurrection,
open roads, adventures yet to
explore.  A portal door
to magick’s call.
Take me whole to that parareality.
Let me be that possibility,
unencumbered by expectation.
Unraveling dance of elation in
healing sky, I learn to fly unfazed
through destiny, protected
by loving divinity,
numinous Lady Moon.

Beltane 2021

Dreams long enshrined touch magic Piscean Moon
This day in May, cross-quarter fully blooms
Ecstatic dance, toward brightness cast our eyes
Into brave chance, Dame Future’s vast surprise
to merrily entice
 
Undulation trance of gypsy minstrel choir
so intense, our light bursts into fire
Divine delight invites inspired mirth
Renewed to life, we worship gifting Earth
Mother Earth, we praise through rites of flame
She gives our lives hearth and home and name
Mother world, our one true holy land
Time to kindly honor Her command

restoration

I went there.
I liked it.
It felt like home
to this weary Crone,
to stop and stay.
Learning carefully, joyfully,
to weave clouds and rainbows
inside my open window.
Breathing Spring waft through
this enchanted room,
I dance myself stories and laugh.
Remember healing laughter?
Not the mean jokes, rough sneers,
prayers for disasters to save us.
Neighbors deride and betray us
— why would we stay if we had
a chance?
Why get caught in
such a tragic trance?
Who did I think I would
become?
How did I believe I was
the only one
not in on the game?
Anti-communicate:  throw
words without their soul.
Make noise to detract from
making sense.
Over time we find, each alone:
We are disappearing from our lives.
Faintly flowered,
soft evening breeze
carries today
past our horizon.
Feel free
as you breathe,
as you move.
The You who watches
wants all yous
to feel good.

superlunar radiation

souls seeking lessons,
lives of schooling along moving paths,
do better with humility to understand
such studies
teach not from our ignorance.
Classes may demand belligerence,
breaking bounds,
or simply opening, molting, relinquishing.
 
Sink and emerge over millennia,
accreting tales found
in the sounding mist of the world sea.
 
Raucous bandying pours through
in beeps and bleats.
Radio frequency bops and beats,
helpless pleas, daring vows to applaud,
angry tragic market dreams, marching
orders in the poorest form — insidious
mounting rage.
This whole pop pre-postapocalypse
stage play crackles and quakes, keeps
us hopping to its tunes.
What do we learn?

The Winners

 
 
 
 
Isn’t there a story
(I vaguely see shimmer in lost memory)
of a people savaged by invisible disease.
 
We live complicated lives, have no time for
sickness, enemies we can’t see or fight
with technology, deadly weapons of
defense.  It makes no sense to our
society, blinded by Midas intent, to
give credence to demand for cure,
to give resource from our wealth for
suffering we are sure does not exist.
 
Stealthy, the microbe universe encroaches,
silently strangles, suffocates, implodes.
Exponentially infests, makes itself
at home, redecorates our world as
its own.
No wealth left to protect, without hope,
or respect, we have succumbed.

in the free world

Everywhere, signs
Everywhere, sadness rippling,
funereal blues,
ever slower, ebbing
connection, ebbing time.
.
Everywhere, shrinking, dying.
Everywhere deplete, engulfed
by agony, bleeding out.
.
Can you, will you, sing into
endless night a story
of survival
of happy children in concert
with verdant Earth?
.
.
In the free world
.
.
I don’t listen to the color of the bluesman’s skin.
I infuse the power of music.
I am, my world is, music, not just while it’s playing.
Ordered vibrations cosset me, hold like a
heart-bound twin.
Names, sad biographies, personalities
grand or subdued, but delusions.
Substitute equivalent qualities, commands that
define identity.  Told how to hear
or say in the way ideations,
profound or silly, are spread; day by
dreaded day. 
Sound waves from will, music imbues momentum,
interweaves with
who we become
and overcome.
.

.