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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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Metamorphosis

Innocence of new birth
Such a sacred thing.
I could not recall its distant unreborn pleasures.

Too worn away
A mundane day after relentless
smoothed-over passive day.
I can only take my fading remainder measures.

Between innocence and torn elder
A midway ride tripping through sacred sighs
and secular screams.
I would seize such natural spirited treasures.

Complexity of integrity
Such a mundane past birth
yet sacred future rebirth.
I have not yet reached for daring resonant fissures.

Innocence of reborn birth
this grey stormed winter reassures.

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The Rival Sisters

They were loyal sisters.
The older
was also more fair,
prettier in an Original Barbie kind of way.

She had been sick
when her younger,
darker,
more tomboy sister
met and first desired
my tall, dark, and handsome Uncle.

When older and fairest of all Sisters
returned home,
after a long healthcare absence,
she too desired Uncle Handsome,
as did we all,
in our time and ways,
but Handsome’s eyes never wavered again
once reset on older and fairest Sister.

Young darker Sister, left behind,
began to heal
when tall, dark, and handsome #2
showed up
and spoke smokey truths
of happiness,
kindness,
quiet gentleness.
But not too gentle.
Slow and steady; confident
integrity could heal all guilt
and angers
and prior disappointments.

These two Sisters
and their TD and H husbands
lived near each other
and grew old together
with unspoken neighborly mistrusts,
unresolved struggles with and about envy,
jealousies and jilts,
but also laughter and deep mutual regard.

Who can control chemistry,
or timing?
Who can forgive,
and how long could this revolution take?

Yet even restrained love
can grow abundantly rich
with both age and generosity.

Younger and darker Sister
lost her husband to cancer
and then her memory,
while older fairest Sister and husband
moved into assisted housing
after reaching golden fifty years
together.

Then good-natured patient waiting
to embrace final retirement,
a journey we each take alone,
as when we entered
except without Mom nearby,
or maybe this too remains the same, somehow.

Older ancient Barbie Sister
did not let go
until younger jilted Sister
quietly stopped breathing in her deep night sleep,
lost in memories not accessible by day.

Ten nights later
Barbie Sister passed out of embodied memories
in this same way.
Safe at last,
knowing it was then too late
for TD and H Uncle
to go back before that place
where they had started.

They say death comes in threes.
I wonder why.

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