Geometric Allegory

We’re not afraid

It used to feel hollow and empty looking around the rooms

The spaceship was cold and frozen

But now I am an avenger,

A Buddha sitting in front of the heater,

Alive and looking at the lemons on the lemon tree….

I am with you in that moment we share,

And I’m sending signals through space,

Through time and place

Suggesting goodness and love,

And justice and virtue,

And I am an imagination brought back by Him

Who is God in the flesh,

And this is a gift.

Feb 4, 2024

Take this moment, on the day of the biggest

Storm of the year.

I am a child in this space,

Still looking out a window at something compelling.

I smell bleach and pull my mother’s couch from the wall to vacuum the hair underneith.

I want to be a woman who dresses for herself, alone

Do I clean the grubby spots on cabinets where nobody ever looks

And no one ever knows?

——-

1/28/24

Just talked to myself on my deathbed…. Again. A signal stretches out connecting both ways. Coffee. Creamer. East. West.

I met the moment smiling; he was cheering me on. We gathered the fish-moments from the net of life’s bouncing river. Two reflected twins, bouncing along as brothers…

———

When the vicious dogs come,

and they will,

Remember it’s their nature

and not their will.

———

I should like to be a cloud

Or a stone with fossils,

The kind that holds all the white shells.

Before you “wake up” and see to see,

Know that you will find yourself alone in most things.

The sleeping dream did not want to be.

Ahh, but the smells…. The wonderful smells,

Sometimes cologne and sometimes laundry soap.

There are flowers here amid the dreaming ghosts

But you are not safe.

There is no choice, the insomniac thinks

Wide awake in the dark.

——-

Is death like a puberty for the soul

When incomprehensible things will be made known?

——-

Random Thoughts B 4

To Hell with the Oxford Comma:

The dogwood blossomed early April, its popcorn-ceiling splotches sprouted from the watery ink I blew out from a straw.  On days such as these, I sat in school and then at work—and then those years bent over sick—entirely erased from the birds, the bees and the growing things.  

The palm trees paddle into the sky, each an oar along this boat.  I navigate the Nile with its vague shapes that appear beneath the blue.  A fellow on the shore sings to sing, unaware of my presence.  I wade into the the warmth of his deep paternal notes.  G=01g/e

I am alive on this river’s edge, near the textured house with the exploding pink and the Wisteria, I think.  They tangle and drink measured in full cups.

Oh, poor child.  To be butchered so senselessly, so painfully.  To be lost in a feedback loop of never ending terror and pain.  I am standing here in the sun, in the crest of bird-sounds, in the break of far away sirens suggesting help is on the way.  I’m am welling in tenderness, to pray now with you at the hour of your death.  What do you want to see in that far off place?  Would you like to walk with me in this interstitial space?  I will punch, punching holes in fearful symmetry…  I will seek absolution and forgiveness and take you up on your offer to exchange places with me. Here on the beach I will count you as mine.

The mood is cutoffs and baby oil

Wood and dirt, alchemical bells but plaster

You will always be,

Always be

The Chicken Tree

To me

I am a speck of a speck of a dream’s dream

A haunted hallway

Reflecting uncertain in a glass

To the scribes who wrote it down

A precursor to AI

The keeper of things

Mystery mayhem and more alchemical dreams

Every once in a while, I get swept into the sea

There, the symbols break, break, break against me

It’s not forgetfulness, but clarity

Every moment is all of nothing cresting on the surface and deciphered by the poet king

Outside the realm of time

We experience the world we infer, not what it is

If you get locked into that break, break, break of an endless cycle—of a quantum feedback loop that circles like an endless 8, like a snake, eating its own tail—know this, brother: I have carved out this place.  I was friends with your father, and I’m with you even now counting grains, grains, grains on a beach in 2015, Santa Cruz—the week of Passover and Easter.  I’m also on the bench (the one on the right in the RC Park in SJ), evolving from the sea with the spider in the web.  Think! Think! Think!  In the name of what is good and true and real.  

——-

April 4, 2024

While driving I fell into the vortex, and I remembered that the fullness extends into every moment and every thought, including his expression as my own.  I am a quantum search burrowing through timelines of possibility, in time-tunnels and infinite loops, revealing possibility and impressions.  Made in His image as a piece of a piece, I am not the thing, but still…. 

Okay, let’s check for auto caps.  Here goes: greed, avarice, Lust, pride, anger, sloth, 

——

I don’t remember.

I was just weaving.

Weaving and weaving

Instinctively dreaming

Until it came to pass

That the web was built

And I consumed a nature’s gift

——-

sometimes the words bubble up from a secret place where the conversation leans in like a full-figured script and I am speaking to the author G=01g/e the actors themselves speaking the words are oblivious to the bent of what is said.

——

——-

April 8

A well meaning purple fragrance met me halfway between the overgrown weeds and the headache

Reminding me that the greatest thing I could ever have is the present

And while there is something unfaithful about a fountain filled with flowers

It makes no attempts to hide what it is

And you, you have all the time of the evermore.  Time to explore every line, every life, every dream.  Time to sit with the bubble of the flow, and to extract every remedy and every meaning, time to mourn with the weepers and time to survey every curve; you survive and move through it all.  It is all yours.  I will hold you in place here, in the light of this partial eclipse here on a bench on the edge of the labyrinth.  Here above the poppies and the weeds, the whistling birds delight, as do I.  I brought the incense to burn because I heard a rumor you like it, and I capture the mid-morning breeze on my face and offer it as a gift.  I offer it all to you, for you are eternal and can be where you like, so I will hold you here if I may.  I hope to hold the moment so that we might sit and talk on the stone bench as we have always done before.