Posts Tagged Spirituality
Travels Through Death Soon to Come II
My death is arriv-
ing with brown and purple hugs,
temporary nails,
Gregorian chant sneaks up,
John Cage cheers my soul
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.
.
Carl’s dystopia today shot near Gibbon, Nebraska, September 2016
.
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.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
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.
.
(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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
stillfugue 