Monday, September 17, 2012

Memory

If I do not write it down
how will I know
what happened?

I have met me
And I know,
I am,
at best,
Absent minded,

Which is a kindness.

--Not the fact--
the description--

is my life
only the ink
on paper?

And,

If it is.
Is this
Failure?
 BH

The sun and blue sky
are so rare here
where the cold Pacific
meets the mountains.

Boats sail and power
across the surface
of that water
beyond this window.

The sun warms my arms
and back, as it sets
so slowly
into the trees.

On a day like this...
NO...
on this day
just as it is

I am 'afraid'--
likely a good old
Anglo-Saxon word--
but that is cowardice

I am, not
like an animal,
because I am one.
I frighten easily.

I know there is the chance
I shall not see you
I shall not hear you
Again


Sunday, September 16, 2012

On the Liffey

He was there
sitting on the next
bar stool.

We talked,
as is the custom
in a pub.

He had his shopping
and I had my
travels.

Why did he
enter me
so easily?

I do not speak
of carnal
images.

We were two
people
and then not.
I am getting old
quickly--
or rather--
my body is.

My grandfather's hands
are now mine, and I recall
a mild repulsion
seeing them then.

I wish
I had overcome
that.

I do not grow flowers
that I can not eat.
I am, it seems
florally fixated.
Snowstorm

I am no longer what
I wish to be.
I wake as a young man,
but I don't find him
in the morning mirror.

I now understand
why the Queen
was upset
with Snow White.

But I would not
give her
that apple.

I would give her,
on her forehead,

an old man's kiss.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Walking

I have seen you walking
in ways no one walks
that I have ever seen

I have seen you turn
your hands
in ways I have never seen

I have seen you.
And I am newer
than I can be.

You don't forgive me
for being.
You give me: me.

Is this love?
Is this the promise
of my life?

Yes. And. No.
You give because
you are.

I am only one
you have met
in passing.

And have cured.


Friday, September 7, 2012

RESTORATION

He sat and spoke
openly, and
I was absorbed.

I forgot my years,
or--as it is called---
my age.

I forgot my flesh
which has spent years
under the sun.

I was again
the bright and shining
person I never truly knew

Because youth
cannot see
it's own beauty.

How may I thank him
for this gift?
This restoration?



Thursday, August 30, 2012

Why Argue?

We have the five senses, or at least many of us do. Through trauma and what we call 'bad luck” some of us miss one or two of these gifts. However, we don't 'see' the world through our five senses, as much as through our one other sense: reason. This sense we do not come by naturally, nor do all of us develop it, nor even take it out for “walks”. It is the one sense that will wither and die from misuse. Yet it is our only method of attempting to find some sort of order in the chaos about us.

What do we all want to know? There are many things, of course, but one commonly wished for knowledge is 'what is going to happen next?'. The answer is, of course, unknowable, which makes it just that much more terrifying. This is related to the question: 'What is death?', again, completely unknowable.

We develop belief systems to fill this void, this crack in the dam that keeps chaos from being what it is: the stark reality that every thing is foreign. We should not forget that these systems are by definition, beliefs and not true knowledge, however, if we want to keep our 'vision' clear. This does not disparage these systems or faiths, but in my opinion, makes them far more valuable. They speak of something precious: hope. The most common human failing here is to leap to the conclusion that our belief system is infallible. It reminds me a bit of the event one sees in films, when there is a 'security breach' and the doors and windows roll shut with steel curtains. We naturally fear the loss of hope, I think. We refuse to see that life is, in fact, incomprehensible. At this point comes the loss of faith. It is no longer faith, when belief systems become a pseudo-knowledge. In this case, one views his or her existence through the pin-prick in the cardboard, protected from the glare of what is really out there.

I think it is incumbent upon us to keep our eyes open. This is our life, and we should not shut it out with pretense. We can admit that we do not know. This is not a test in school, it is the gift of the experience of living a life on the world, and in the world. We can look at a rainbow and know that it is visible light that is refracted into our visible spectrum as well as the spectrum we can not see, and yet we can still wonder at its time-stopping beauty. We can look at the stars and know that they are gravitational masses of matter, made up primarily of nothing, and what we are looking at is older than, in some cases, our own planet. Yet, they seem to be able to pour into us this thing we call 'beauty', which is so very close to love, it can make ones eyes respond with tears.

Systems which lock us into a type of loop thinking, in which everything verifies our locked doors and barred windows, rob us of our very existence, just as a prison cell robs a person of his or her liberty. When we say 'challenge authority' do we mean it? Or do we just mean, 'challenge their authority'? If it is the first of these, then we have kept our minds available, if it is the second, that door is not really open.

Children can drive adults mad, by asking one simple, human question: why? We somehow fear telling them the truth: we just don't know. Some of us react in anger and tell them to stop asking. I think this is cowardice. We have a duty to each other that was handed to us by all those who came before. We did not get here on our own. A child understands this, why do we forget? Why can't we say we don't know, and “Please, if you can find out, will you let me know?” Don't ever stop asking. We must recognize that we know so little and there is so much to learn, that it can not be done in one lifetime. We are eternal students. We should not drop out, while we still draw breath.