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Archive for June, 2011

Points of Appreciation

June 30, 2011 2 comments

Enjoyed a vivid dream about powerful, white neoprene gloves during my lunch time nap

  • It was a beautiful sunny day
  • A mated pair of cardinals hung out in a tree near the train station
  • I went to a poetry slam at night, read a poem at open mic and made some connections for interviews for NPS2011
  • I came home to an email from a friend requesting a critique of a couple of poems
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The Cantab Lounge – One of the Venues for the National Poetry Slam 2011

The Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, Massachusetts hosts a weekly Poetry open mic, featured poet and poetry slam every Wednesday night.  Yours truly read there last night (a poem I will later post and record someplace) and arranged an email interview with the driving force behind the Boston Poetry Slam, Simone Beaubien.

Please check out the interview at Eye On Life Online Magazine.

Categories: Poetry Tags:

Points of Appreciation

  • A goldfinch and a blue bird at the train station
  • I walked calmly through a corridor of hundreds of bumble bees busy with these little yellow flowers
  • Wildflowers are everywhere after all that rain and a couple of days of sun
  • People were interested in knowing how my bike ride went
  • I meditated in Copley Square by the fountain.  When I looked up, I saw a tree in which many had carved their initials and such into the bark.  It came to me that the tree had accepted these wounds and was completely at peace with itself, happily growing and filled with golden light.
  • Kikipotamus sent me a book!

DarkWomb

June 23, 2011 2 comments

The womblike long dark hallway of night
Cracks around closed doors bleeding light
Behind them rooms are bright
They chase away their thoughts

A sandstorm erodes transparency
Until it aches, opaque
And the lone searcher can see
Neither revelation nor mistake

Cracks around closed doors bleeding light
Within the rooms behind them bright
They distract away the night
While I roam, stillborn in my thoughts

Arriving at the destination of my cumulative choice
No ear is near to hear my voice
Regardless silenced
My sadness having sucked out all the air

Within their rooms they stay bright
Shining hopelessly through the night
At the end of the tunnel see no light
I am chased away

I would be born out of this womb
From this tomb exhumed
Reanimated in some private room
Where I alone my bitter cup consume
Sweep up the pieces with a broom
Weave a new life on a loom
Cheat myself out of my doom
Screams are silent in a vacuum

Thoughts chase them away
Behind their doors to bright rooms
That bleed light through the cracks
As I retreat to my long dark womb

To hear an audio recording of this poem, click here.  

Categories: existence, Poetry Tags: ,

Points of Appreciation

  • Found myself surrounded by beauty several times today
  • Arrived at work as the first drops of rain began to fall and a snowy egret circled overhead
  • Started an article about mind, body and sleep
  • A poet has returned to Eye On Life with another poem for us
  • I am ready to ride in the CCG bicycling fundraising event to benefit the National Multiple Sclerosis Society this Saturday and Sunday

Pondering the Leap

Upon the ledge, the little poet at once young

Ponders the trusted universe

And love songs by poets sung

In forgotten meter and tender verse

Professing love with variables;

Bearing gifts: ethereal and tangible,

Comforts and attentions.

On a horse nearby, a second poet mentions,

“All love is good.”

The little poet, something about wood.

As three time zones exact tolls

From her own ledge a poet trusts the universe

While burning images onto souls

And composing searing passionate verse.

She accepts selectively gifts of the poet on the horse

And the little poet who stands, ledge crumbling

Beneath his feet, manufacturing balance before

A leap that could prove humbling.

Shortly the window may be gone.

The universe may move on.

Yet if the leap be made too soon

The the poet will likely miss the moon.

If only the famous cow would happen by

Leaping fantastic into the sky

Udder dangling like a great latex glove.

The poets wonder, “What is love?”

A great chunk breaks off each of the ledges,

Nudging them even nearer their edges.

Decide the poets must.

Time the universe to trust?

Categories: Poetry Tags: , ,

Out of Nothing

 

Out of nothing
The heart-clock is started
Before the naked animal wakes
Fully into the myth
Of flashing light
Lapse of change
Glands and chemicals
Automatically survive

Somewhere electricity arcs
Lobes of gray pudding
A human thinks, “Mine”
Stuck there, staggers
Beneath the weight
Of the fabricated self
Between mishap and misfortune
Synonymous pain and anger
Mysterious occasional joy

If by chance or design
The human awakes
Climbs the Unseen ladder
Seated in the high place
Looks down upon the animal
Far below
With all the other animals
Feels detached
And connected

Seated in the high place
The spirit may awake
And animal, self and spirit
Meet
With the widest of smiles
Realizing
They are nothing