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Blah Friday

I need a vacation
from vacation unbreaks.

Bad Friday
falls seven days after spring break begins,
Which is a break for some kids
and teachers without kids,
but not for grandpa parent me,
and my sociopathic daughter,
who needs the structure of small
specialized classrooms
to get through her most resilient day.

It feels healing to step outside
into softer breezy voices
green with overly optimistic promise
that Everythin gonna be aright.

Rain threatens
yet wide patches of sky blue
promise western horizon hope,
for now

Faith that tomorrow,
which feels unforgivingly far from Now,
yet stuck in Here,
I will wake to compassionate forgetfulness,
lack of memory
of nearly all black bleak Fridays
transpired,
de-valued by my owned
and negligently managed
lack of parental investment
in larger self/other care;
that old ego/eco-balancing
narrow-way game.

Tomorrow,
just another Saturday/Sunday weekend,
between BadFriday wounds
and rainy Monday
school day blues
and jazz dance in the garden
with a Great Turning shovel.

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Uncategorized

Historic Traces

Embracing my retiring place
includes not only green and granite geographic dimensions
in space
But also extending back experienced roots
of 264 seasons past
having co-evolved this matriarchal wombing 2020 present

As if co-gravitation of historic time
with current place
were a creative pre-visioned design of space
dipolar co-arising deja-vu choice
to embrace, with coincidental love revivals,
or disgrace, with even more bipolar fear-mongering,

And usually something merely mortal
yet immortally cooperative
in-between what has been competitive Win/Lose explained
and what could become WinWin integrity
of exclaiming dance and song

Embracing my ego place,
How could that go wrong?
While not ignoring ecosystemic health
of this historic evolving space,
sacred integrity of revolving incarnations,
romantic race
toward multiculturing grace,

Withour fear’s least merely secular
ZeroTrace.

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Time InBetween

I seem to remember
a golden post-toddler childhood
in which each day was a journey
ecstatically timeless,
yet within bookends
of coral dawn
and bruised dusk,
between waking from true timeless sleep
and returning to my evoluting inside place
for adventurous pilgrimage,
courage in face of nightmares,
curiosity looking full-face
between inside enchantments
and outside ecstasies.
But now
I am that parent who calls to liturgical dinner,
harvests and buys the victuals,
plans the sacramental meals
on my better focused days,
administers all cleansing rituals,
defends all rights against retributive trespass
and pollution
of sand and soil and water
sacred energy…

Secular disenchantments
distract from Here we are in this inviting,
yet constantly changing,
day for just us Now,
far outweigh sacred enchantments.

Ecstasy feels like a reserve
preserved for early WinWin childhood
on a glorious summer day of liberty,

While mendacity of time’s turbulence,
downdrafts,
push-back,
competitively usual business
projects lack of time for leisurely enchantments
from unseen dawn
through vaporizing dusk,

Two moments of each outdoor day
unlikely to engage my full, ecstatic,
still-parenting old age presence
remembering enchanting golden childhood.

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Curious Journeys in Courage

As absence finds us silently saying goodbye
to everyone,
farewell to every place and memory we cherish

And absent any voluntary theological plans
in conscious development
to ecologically leave us with your absence
of both mind and body,

Pay close attention,
fully invest in,
what feels salutory,
salvific,
benign beauty,
peaceful healing

While calmly noting
what feels involuntary
and threatening,
unfair loss.

And, where you may hear
and see
and feel
All of holonic integrity above

Winning anything
but decomposing Loser usual

When absence of co-passion
finds us quietly saying goodbye
to every reductive relationship,

Farewell to each degenerative place
theology could never cherish.

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Aside to WiseElders

To WiseElders
in whatever age you may be found
headed even further North
and South
as each full year
revolving passes,

Our shared yet wounded WinLose Adolescent
remembers your WinWin childhood dreams
of adult songs and dances outside
together by day
and riding magic cumulus dreams
by FullMoon
EarthSpin watching
starlit romantic
matriarchal wombed WiseElder nights
of wounded bright
WinWin holy nature-spirits,
PositivEnergy delight
in ecopolitical revolutionary Left with Righting
Trust in birdsong Truth
and dipolar bear dancing Beauty.

Now is your time
to remember Earth’s warm lit
secular song
with liturgical dancing wombs
and unfolding seeds,
LeftBrain too dominant Wrongs
and RightBrain too passive
LeftWinged songs
and WinWin childhood silent slights.

You were more Right dominant
as a secretly singing
and image choreographing
child.

We were more yin dominant
as if quietly sacred and natural
RNA within DNA mysteries
of newborn ecologically dominant
thriving childhood still searching
for our First WiseElder memory
reincarnating organic healthy-wealth
of singing Yang 4D powers
dancing bilateral YinYin process
reverse WinWin fractal-squaring speed
of co-enlightenment

Bold GREEN dances
through FullMoon lifelines
flying magic matriarchal carpets
backward
through WinWin revolving Time.

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Damnations

Dad,
why is the white skin on your capitalist legs
so dry?

Well,
I got older…
Damn,
I knew that would happen
if I continued breathing!

Anyway,
and I also forgot
to apply my cooperative lotion this morning,
and maybe too warmly competing yesterdays…
Damn climate change!
I knew that would happen…

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The Naked CombOver

Why is it, dear,
that the combover speaks as brazenly
as a fat corporate-fed,
way too marbled whitemeat
Naked Emperor
at a Cooperatively Progressive Costume Party?

Because his favorite soundbites are
“I am the best hair-dressed Emperor
these RedStates have ever fed”
followed too loudly by,
“And I am here to listen to
and help you
and God bless AmericaIncorporated First!!!!!”

And you know
he is nakedly lying
from the top of his bald combovered head
all the way through the shit-stained bit
about listening,
because we know he’s too busy twittering
in the morning
to step into
his best-dressed CEO corporate-fat role
of fear-mongering
and monocultural apartheid
anger-militarized mismanagement,
and other terrifying LoseLose pushbutton regimes
of paranoid and fascist
Supreme Naked Emperor images
still trying to work that hopeless combover.

Honey, really,
don’t you have anything healthier to obsess about?

Yes, but our kids’ teachers
believe secular natural egosystems
are something other than the exterior LeftBrain face
of sacred spiritual RightBrain ecosystems,

Which is what you plan to obsess about next,
but its difficult to find any who seem likely to listen
to secular-sacred harmonic students,
much less parents,
any more or less
than my own evangelical Christian parents did,
or the local Catholic priest currently Holy Communions
in that apartheid cathedral
built of universal historical matter.

Well, it does sound like we have a lot
on our Their Not Listening communion plates.
Perhaps if we first listened better
to their long crippled suffering
they might be able to hear ours better?

That’s a thought,
although it doesn’t seem to be working
with the POTUS.

Well, dear,
don’t beat yourself up.
Remember the verse about having ears to hear
and eyes to see
that a combover
does not suggest deep powers
to co-passionately listen
to one’s own naked and vulnerable aging self.

Stuck in perpetual bullying adolescence
as learned in military school,
more likely.

I wonder how he would look
in a Marine cut?

If not healthier,
then at least more honest.

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