The Bereaved

You never know what it will be like--
     Faded photographs
     Edges peeling
     Browning memories
     Corners dissolving
     Ever lingering
     Withering--

You never know what it will be like
     Sand castles washed away with the ebbing tide
     Clam shells clamped shut
     Salty serum poured out
          Wasted
     and collected
     Pooled and sitting, waiting
          Stagnant
   
You never know what it will be like
     Flames and debris colliding
          --Exploding--
     Whirlwinds of fury
          Clashing, twisting
          Confusing
     Emptiness so intense
     Unfathomable
          Dark
     All-consuming
     Hurt
     Piled on thick until it forms a pit
          that sits, and sits, and sits, and sits
          and never goes away.

     The erosion.

     The silence.

     As if everything died
     Life, interrupted
     Corroded
     Corrupted
     Ceased

     Everything the same as ever
     But forever altered
          and that, irrevocable
     The stillness
     The numbness
     is the worst of all.

You never know what it will be like
Until, suddenly
you know.

Incomplete

outline
traced
transparent
wind-whipped
whispered
floating until I'm Caught
Carried on the breeze of something more substantial than I
and, suddenly

Filled

with meaning, purpose
Existence
Suddenly recognizable
Part of a whole that is not made whole until the Part becomes
Part and parcel
Paradoxical

Yet true and resounding
Suddenly Surrounding
Encompassing
and complete.

I am not me until I am you
and you are me
and we are We
And then
Only then
are we substance.

Words

These are not my words
not my phrases
foreigners crowding
blindly pressing through this dark tunnel

Urgent.

Time-released from the throes of routine and duty
not genuine spontaneity

carefully chosen

curated

caught up

mired, enmeshed
tangled in the barbed wire of politesse
and proper placement

not fresh leaves fluttering

ashes, smoldering, cooled and burning

etched on a page

forever
and meaningless.

Multichromatic Chronology



Orangery (1982) -- Gerhard Richter

 I. golden womb engulfs pale yellow sunrays

    sticky daylight melts and becomes sorbet

    a freed dove flaps wings and begins her flight

    into unknown. Always day; never night

    lifelong dreams begin here, in dew morning.

II. fire hydrants burst with white hot heat streaks

    new things on holiday purify here

    brazen passion glows in brassy corners

    spilling over onto bright red burners

    steam escapes into tangerine midday.

III. bitter grapefruit breezes evaporate

      leaving behind tangible memories

      blood orange rivers stretched way down yonder

      cast long shadows; enigmatic wonders

      saltwater whispers secrets to sunset.

Revival

This is an ode to feverish movement
an expression of exuberant, self-imposed praise
which radiates from that moment of climax
at the junction of doubt and hope
where trust is transparent, but rapture is real
where I dance in the dank bowels of rain tunnels
mud mixing with murk and other things
where I think I may catch pneumonia, but I know I will be fine.
This is an ode to self-assurance
a statement regarding the shedding of scales
and the embrace of effervescence.
Here in this lonely corridor
joy springs like a fantastic fountain
ecstatic, ironic, and more than phenomenal
like showers of faithfulness, mercy, and love.
My cup runneth over
its contents spill into my arms
and I hold a pool of heat
and boiling water
and salty tears
and eternal salvation.
There are no others, only silver-lined shadows
and a clean cashmere breeze that warms from within.
This is an ode to isolation.
This is a song for me, and me alone.

Experience-Based Prescience

She'll fall in love. Before she knows what hit her, she'll fall in head over heels, bright lights in Vegas, unconditional, punch drunk love. You can already see him coming--here he is, with his sharp suit and his gold chain and his quick tongue and his time-travelled knowledge; she with her braided hair and her glittery eyes and her brand new shoes and her freshly picked blossoms...

She'll never learn his name, but it won't matter, because he'll teach her everything she'll ever really need to know. And she'll be powerless to stop it...yeah, before she even knows what she's doing, she'll know exactly what she's doing.

So this mystery guy will turn magic tricks with her unruly curls and her precocious hips, and he'll rock her world because she's nice and thick, but as time unfurls...

He'll tire of her pearls...

And move on to the diamonds of other girls...

And she'll be all grown up with nothing to commemorate her journey. Except that nagging pain in her back and that new bump in her belly.

And sometimes, while she's learning her numbers or playing with dolls, she'll wish she could remember the point of it all...

But mostly, her mind will travel with him into the hearts of young women, and she'll watch him touch them in their darkest, most secret places...

And while pining for him, she'll feel for them, because they have braided hair and glittering eyes, and she can already see them giving him their undivided attention, and she knows that before they know what hit them, they'll find themselves in head over heels, bright lights in Vegas, unconditional, punch drunk love...

And they'll be powerless to stop it.

I Am

Cleopatra, reincarnation of your Most High Goddess, returning to rule your household forever

Returning to encase you in a cloud of ginger opium; to enchant your mind; to irrigate your peaks and valleys with my wicked witch hazel.

Yes, I am Cleopatra, reincarnation of your Almighty Goddess, returning to rule your castle forever and ever

Returning to take your hard parts and combine them with my soft parts; returning to brew a textural fantasy so rich a queen could not afford it.

For I am Cleopatra, reincarnation of your All-Powerful Goddess, returning to rule your kingdom, forever and ever, Amen.

Awakening

I run through a field
Barefoot amidst the tall grass
As I eagerly
Rush the horizon
Chasing something I can't see
Cotton-colored dream
Soft and elegant
Cashmere raindrops on my face
Wash cold tears away
It's not so hard now
Pain recedes as time goes on
The front end of dawn
I am closer now
I feel sun warmth, I see light
I am almost there
And then, suddenly
I can stop, I'm here, I'm home
Cotton-colored dream.

John 16:33

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." NIV