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Posts Tagged Spirituality

America, 2016, #2 – On Gravel to Avoid the Hit

 

 

One in front

of the other they

said and no

one would love

me again, tossed I am on

rusty grills.

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Carl’s dystopia today shot near Gibbon, Nebraska, September 2016

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When the lightness of sky, darkened and shattered by winter branches, showed me my fears

Pierce my will-

ingness, make me sail

over shocked

towers fir-

ing waves, that iron jumps, kill-

ing angst, making m’love.

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The Sharp Brevity of an Isolated Spiritual Experience

For most of the day,
I had been treading
carefully, waiting and hoping

the tiger would eat me,
or leave me, and my daughter,

suffused in weightless smiles,
happiness. We had walloped

golf balls, hammered them
and missed them and whiffed
at them, so our energy

had been expelled. Driving
east in a smooth vehicle
like an oblong bubble. It was

evening, the sun in the
obligatory west, and maybe

it was a rear-view mirror,
but we were bathed in
gold, bliss and blessedness

on Highway 10.

 

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I Want a Robot (3)

to sit amongst the tans,
the creamy, sandy blurs
that don’t muffle, but seem

to punctuate the sounds of
gossip, soap-operatic gifs,
and cackles that reopen all my

wounds, to sit there,
punching the numeric
keys and alpha, as needed,

to be a steel case, undisturbed
by the chaos of death wearing
down the cubicled, doing my

job, so that I might wander
in a normally-hopeless search
for my life, for my reason.

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I Want a Robot (2)

to permit me a walk
on the fantastic stairs
by the architectural

wonder, feeling the winds
from the South, full of
future lives, to only

reflect on sharing experience,
hoping it helps or comforts
or perhaps alleviates wounds

of loneliness.

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I Want a Robot (1)

to go out to the bridge,
break down, cry terrifically,
become breathless, unable

to speak of the terrors, but
demonstrate them with the full
jacket of emotions, take all of

my despair so I may sit
here professionally, with no
theatrics, no tears, no feelings,

and take the attacks of my boss
and the volatile piles of shame
from the bad dog, the boss’s boss.

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(My thanks to Erik, who has kindled a beautiful soul and shares some of it here, where the linked post and others spark the good kind of reflection in me as well as good discussions with Erik, for inspiring this series, which could go on forever, if I do.)

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The Noise Rock Awoke Me from the Doldrums of My Work

For a moment, I could smell
this tinge of a burning oil,

and the table-saw dust sprinkled
my mind in a furry way and then,

I knew that everything is one glob,
and I could see that god was hosting

our glob in the most compassionate
mode. Sure, we have disease that is

ubiquitous, universal, individual,
but at least, for a moment, for a tick,

it was mashed gently, inside a soft glove,
comfortable, going to sleep, going home.

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A Grand, Recrudescent Soul

Nicholas visited David
in the bathroom this morning.
David’s feeling was of a remembrance,
and we don’t now why
he would think of Nicky this morning.

Nicky’s soul walked in heavily,
shoulder blades piercing the humid air
in a ceremonious way, for Nicky was
a German Shepard-Husky mix and his walk
had always been regal.

The reason why Nicky visited David this
morning is not approachable, but we can
be sure that David was in despair.

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Tanka for Buddy

Waning, my dog said
goodbye, and I understand
why I must hope for
heaven for dogs, for without,
I want to hang, dead as mud.

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The Unshakable Infantile Spirit, Part III

I’m good with being a baby
now, at the core.
I confess.
People don’t believe me.
They reject baby me with nervous
laughs.
They can’t see the core.

Today, meditation made me
okay.
Good baby, peaceful baby.
I could feel silky sands
of heaven fill my lungs.

I felt big life gifts from dogs
who settled in stillness
with me, who listened
to my silence, who
congratulated me on my
growth, who
loved me
with me.

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