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The DisIncorporating Client

My most troubling client
told me he died last night.

While this did not appear to be his somber case,
nor, sadly,
did my home office silently resound
like this was his actual historical peace,
I did conjure up sufficient energy
to ask why he thought so
or felt so
or hoped so
or feared so
and probably all of the above.

Why not invite
this spectral tsunami
overshadowing life’s reverberating days
and nightmare nights?
I have no prior experience,
no words
for comparison or explanation,
he replied,
I realize I am not naturally dead
but feel spiritually disassociated,
withdrawn diverse inside
And not entirely out enough
as if
in my nocturnal half-life
I wandered lost last night
and failed to fully reassemble.

So this feels like spiritual and unnatural failure?

Failed to fully return
to business as daytime usual,
to orthodox reasonable integrity,
to all insanity of inhumane nature
out of interdependent touch
with outdoor Earth kin,
nature-spirit Elders,
ancient ring-wrinkling trees
witnessing history
already before Nina
Pinta
and Santa Maria,
cut and bound European cousins
arrived on Eastern Atlas shores…

You talk a lot
for one so dead.
Is there a difference
between Eastern Atlas space
and Eastern U.S. Atlantic bounded place?

Maybe this is a failure,
pacific weakness;
certainly a loss.
Each natural species opportunistically suspects
yet cannot risk imagining
what spiritual difference could remain
within what is left of natural Us.

Perhaps we feel drained
strained
de-brained
maimed
blamed
shamed
reamed by Herculean angst,
absence of health developed spiritual curiosity
and courage…

to pull all my self chosen gods and improper goddesses
together again
each morning resurfacing
into yet another cooperatively longing day.

Perhaps.
Although gods and goddesses do not sound sufficiently accurate,
nor historically courageous
resurfacing this discontinuity
before and after my regathering alarm,
bugled and bungled into each foggy day…

I feel, still, my sacred loss of outside presence.

To die our sacred disempowering death
To competing devilish inside challenges,
To belong cooperative EarthGarden awakened
gripped by supreme ego lost
shadow of light’s Source,
outdoor business time’s nature/spirit boundary
threshold of ZeroSum heart
playing organic EarthGame’s finest
green commons Paradise–
outdoor courageous success
behind indoor curious failure
to awaken quite wrongly dead again.

Natural secularizing life,
falling and failing through bilateral integrity
as Earth allied

All over again
this personal
and contractual
and constitutional well-born morning,
not quite competitively reassembled.
What remains
paid less to keep consuming
but more properly reimbursed to keep bothering to breathe
bad inside air.

As they say,
Shop till dead Time drops

dispersed
depersonalized
dissonant
desacramented
autonomous ego
ReAcclimating toward more cooperative eco-resilient
interdependent integrity…
As he continued disassembling
Ancient branched witnesses turned to enter deeper rooted notes,
Our most troubling spiritual student
dismissed us from domestic servitude
as s/he died last night
As if one human had exclusive rights
of nutrition empowering sovereignty.

We winked back
and said ThankYou
And don’t let that over-lumbered door
slap you down
on our way outside and in,
more competitively cooperating again.

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The Admirable Admirer

I did not understand his visit,
it’s timing
or purpose
nor he mine, I suppose.

I would have asked
but Why?
felt better as a mystery
or magic
or in-between
explored by mythic listening
and passionate watching.

He was tall
slender
muscular without too much diesel Yang,
Graceful
and ecstatic
to see me again
after all these in-between years.

I was on an urgent mission
to rescue two wounded children
from uncertain surgical government
absence of healing care
but had to stop
as he approached
as if I were the only person
in all of Sacred EarthTribe
he had ever loved,
could love,
would love

But “should love”
that was my question
about why this visit
now
when I was so otherwise committed,
exhausted really.

Before I could explain
about my perennial rescue mission
he wanted to share with me
how remarkable his friend
who adopted
two complexly hurt children.

His enthusiasm was contagious
and comforting
What I needed to hear
to feel I merited his handsome smile
happy eyes
his intimately frank appraisal
of having been found good,
worthy in more ways than one
if I know what he means.

If he is this excited
about his friend
on a new rescue mission
for climate health of innocence
how enthused might he become
when I tell him
I am a struggling therapeutic parent
of four complex and discarded post-millennials,
inching toward our peaceful revolution,
restoring self with other love
integrity.

But he was gone
with the morning alarm
before we had time
to consummate this fabulous exchange
of mutual admiration.

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Einstein’s Sacred EcoMetrics

The younger Albert Einstein
was more intrigued by geometry of experience
than mere metaphysical abstractions.

During this younger time,
he wrote about bi-optical illusions
of Ego against Eco consciousness:

“This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires
and affection
for a few persons
nearest to us.
Our task must be
to free
ourselves from this prison…”

Einsteinian Elders
may remember dreams
Once upon time’s bi-optical illusions
of all Sacred Species
uniting for cooperation
rather than unifying polarities
furthering competitions.

Cooperatively invested children
within Elder Paradise Dreams
grow personally then politically,
ecologically nutritious then economically healthy,
sacred as Matriarchal ElderWombs before.

Gaian Einsteinians
told campfire creation stories
of organic healthy purpose.
Sacred Teachers
assisting EarthSoul’s cooperative process
of realigning harmonies
resonantly resolving
Reforesting Agrarian Paradise.

Elder Einstein
suffered an enormously disempowering
depressive sense of loss
after his uniting nuclear fusion Though Experiment
turned into society’s atomic militarized-ballistics.

Genocide of sacredly uniting Earth,
the anti-ecological conclusion
of Yang LeftBrain supremacy,
raping and blasting
secularizing patriarchal powers
of AnthroCompetitiveness
out of systemic balance
with Elder RightBrain
Matriarchal MemoryWomb
of CoOperative CreationStory Paradise.

Elder Einstein
grew toward dementia,
but high functioning.
Perhaps he joined the oncoming spectrum
at the top of awesome wonder
inhabiting manic dreams of nightmare blasts
sensing insatiable overpopulating risks
of rabidly competing human expansion
toward cancerous monoculturalism
and concomitant territorial risks
of ever more war-mongering
in a post-nuclear
fission-dominant Age.

A time of Great Transition
toward post-millennial death of a HomePlanet
through nuclear and nationalistic fissions,
losing solidarity with Sacred Earth
as mere collateral damage
for LeftBrain Reign of stubborn WinLose ego-empowerment
and bigotry
and sexism
against RightBrain cooperative matriarchal health care restoration
and regenerative spirit-nature receiving,
preferring consciousness of fusion’s deep rich nondualistic opportunities

EcoTherapeutic Fusion Dreams
frightened away by fission’s growing Great Walls
rather than slowly revolving blue-green orbiting revisions,
as curiously slow as watching paint undry,
restoring justice Paradise.

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Precocious Liturgies

I’m going through my morning routine
still at least half asleep,
pondering what was I pondering?
while preparing morning meds
and showering my daughter,
helping her dress,
filling her snack pail
for her long school bus ride,
changing my son’s overnight diaper,
lotioning ashy skin,
tying shoe laces,
hers, mine, ours,
feet walking onto the bus,
hooking all four corners of her safety harness
and walking back toward our house
thinking
I’ve been up for an hour
and now I’m ready to begin my day.

What was that first hour?
Its quality of dream
heading toward future investments
in life as more full consciousness.
Consciousness of a different dream?
A different sense of identity?
A different quality of life fullness
in contrast to dreamy half-consciousness,
on back to less than half,
and then the alarm clock
too quickly buzzing louder
to interrupt
whatever it was that had felt so ponderous
pondering what I had been pondering
before I drifted back into sleep.

Self awareness,
self and sometimes also other consciousness,
has this liquid flowing quality
of investment in life
and disinvestment through dreaming,
loss of self-embodied awareness.

I wonder if life could feel richer
if cash followed this same investment in conscious flow preference
over disinvesting in interest paid for over-dreaming
together in WinLose (0)Sum assuming societies,
Eden economies of Paradise Lost,
Bodhisattva Warriors
tying each other’s shoes
as necessary co-investment
and physically possible
and ecologically optimal
to get to that part of our conscious warrior day
we can re-invest in deeper consciousness
loving together,
investing in our cooperatively-held healthy water,
and nurturing air for the grandkids
and the back yard chorus of birds
and their grandkids
to breathe,
and fire for cooking and heating, but not hating,
and retelling family and tribal recreation stories,
Earth’s continuing liturgical investments
in self with other nutritional flowing consciousness.

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Traveling Death Salesman

I can’t sleep.
Or, I can
and did
for three hours
but I continue waking
into a Stephen King nightmare
too real to ignore
because I feel isolated
in this quagmire
of hopeless history.

In this my collective nightmare,
President Trump goes to Saudi Arabia
like Mr. Smith goes to Washington,
bold as an August justice day,
to sell 110 billion dollars of U.S. manufactured ballistics
in this heart of Middle East thirst
for violence–
like selling dope to jonesing crack addicts.

This deal is signed in the blood of our children
then celebrated in full glare of multi media spotlights
with blood dripping off our chins
and hands.
This is a really sweet success
for climate health and freedom fighters
and, oh yes,
our wealthy industrious friends
who rake in their riches
on the strong back
of capitalism’s vaguely cannibalistic WinLose addictions.

This nightmare continues on to Israel
where Jewish leaders wait
until our blood-stained ambassador
of international arm-sales corruption
turns his back
before at last declaring their alarm,
echoed at his next stop
in the Vatican
where even this home of history’s Crusades
finds such dark triumphalism
a bit too treacherously much.

Yet, as often as I awake within this bloodshed bacchanal
blaring with unseemly deep night trumpets
I also wake to total BusinessAsUsual silence
here in this U.S. home.

Here it feels alien accepted
that this is whom we have near bloodlessly become,
crack and frack and oil addicts
selling our preferred markets of death
in exchange for oil
or cash,
our democratically held self-esteem so low
we cannot remember our lowest common denominator
used to be a shared multiculturing Golden Rule.

We have better stuff to sell
for hope of light
not deadly despair.

So here I sit
in the middle of this night’s terrifying domestic silence,
wide awake with guilt
about such dark leadership
we have loosed in a troubling Earth
longing for even just one drop of climate sanity.

110 billion dollars re-invested.
Ours
to grease these well oiled wheels
of military industrializing tycoons
even General President Eisenhower
warned us against.

I guess healing our planet
and our extending brother-sister relationships
will have to wait
until all our guns
and oil,
bombs
and hate,
soldiers
and their innocent children
are gracelessly gone.

I doubt that dawn will ever come again,
yet worry what new macabre celebrations
in vampire cannibalistic capitalism
may appear across our morning screens,
knocking on and out and through our back doors
while our children sleep
in too short innocence.

110 billion for nihilistic death and terror sales
and not one entrepreneurial peep in protest
of sacrilegious prancing.
It is this screaming silence of abject immoral despair
that continues awaking me,
hoping I might see midnight lights
of kindred nightmare souls
haunted by such dark blood business
baldly broadcast as if to help us better sleep.

I toss and turn alone
while other childlike immigrants on Earth
sleep through 110 billion bloody nightmares.

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First and Lasting Light

He awakens.
Stretching lambent brown-earth eyes fully open
then stretching smile
while sitting stretching up
to meet morning light’s soft greeting
mystically caressing his warm dusk skin with cooler delights
across curious face and neck and grateful arms.

Bluejay scolding
squirrel chattering in scathing manic response.

Hawk hovering above,
hunting,
praying for prey this day,
watching
as he watches
through stretching preying agape eyes
returning into this day’s dramatic Earth events
to taste and feel and smell fresh breeze
dancing caress
fading smile
drooping eyes
to dream as falcon
soaring Earth’s grand eloquent delights.

He awakens to play
as he prays without embodied replay;
echoing eco analogical sounds with smells in co-flight
of and by and with and in and for his exegeting earthy nature.

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Thomas The Jefferson’s Train

In my dream
Thomas Jefferson pops out a pilgrim
in The Jeffersons family,
proprietors of Chinese laundries
on the worst end of Main Street’s forested path
emerging toward Sanford Sons and Daughters Recycling Dump.

Here, midst polyglot stone soups
both informing and deforming,
occasionally reforming,
Thomas declares revolutionary interdependence with Earth’s dignity
as his senior honor’s thesis
read out boldly to collegial students
teaching cultural enrichment,
hoping for autonomic network surges
of WinWin political ecological outcomes.

Thomas, sometimes called Red behind his considerable backside,
discovered repurposing as economic thesis
and recovering recycling paths of golden intentions
as political antithesis
of terrorist fascist Christians
who had hoped to grow up
to join SuperJewish kibbutzisms
which was merely a more high-toned reference
to the pilgrim’s village recycling crashdump
of at-risk people looking for more inviting places
with sufficient space
for the entire upstairs-downstairs Jefferson Tribe
of Arabic DayDream stews
and stud muffins.

When Red heard young Thomas hoped to revive Taoist MidWays
all along pilgrim’s Main Street sonnets and plays
he prayed to Martha Washington
“My heart, my heart,
I could not survive such empire deconstruction!”

Somehow SuperHero Thomas the Jeffersonian Train
regenerated a multicultural chain of fools
to revolve this foxy precycling plant
into a MidWay forest of sweet and sour bodhisattva delights,
currency accepted up as down MidWay’s carnival street
in Jefferson’s NoShirtTicket-NoLaundryService busy mess
of humanity deforming Earth’s Rights
to procreate recreation of poli-econormic education,
schools of synchronic swimming Red Jeffersonian fish
remembering how to pilgrim surf thru interracial plowing seasons
to turn out hot melting stone soup feasts
of uniting nation futures
invested in laundering unhealthy wealth
until Thomas redreamed rainbow cream.

As Thomas this Jefferson Train
pulled away from wu wei pilgrimage station,
he called out to all repurposing Foxes,
Merry CoMessiahs to all nations
and states of recycling benighted dreams.

Now there’s a good night’s sleep
you’ll never address backward inside-out again.

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