Uncategorized

Intimate CoMessiahs

Sexually powerful energy,
longing for healthy
deeply resonant experience
of regenerative compassion,
both natural and spiritual,
metaphysically leftbrain
but yet embodied rightbrain,
reconnecting bicamerally sensory consciousness,

When combined
with disciplined
adult, and yet not fully mature,
religious passion for multiculturing fulfillment,
yet still grasping toward short-term ego-privileged
ultimate climax,
sensational satiating experience

Is a highly volatile mixture.
Dangerous ground.
Deeply treacherous.
Filled with yellow and red striped
CAUTION signs,

Icons of rich potential blessing
through resonant
non-violent
vulnerably transparent
communicating co-passionates,

Which is not equivalent to,
nor the probable outcome of,
not sharing with today’s
and tonight’s multi-sensory receiving audience
of the typically one-on-one intimate moment
what you have persuaded yourself
the engorged
engaged Other needs
and wants to hear
then see,
to touch
then feel,
to taste
then smell
to fully invest
in being naked
with you.

Great sexual partnering
does not begin
with good marketing communication skills,
talk without integral action

But, great sexual experiences
do begin and end
with resonantly
richly
robustly balanced
compassionate listening,
feeling,
smelling skills
explicitly communicating
your shared/unshared values
for long-term co-empathic sensory experience
through sensual communication

Including sexually committed
cooperatively co-empathic
naturally spiritual
long-resilient active compassions
in solidarity with all EarthTribes
in compelling felt, heard, fragrant climates
of unsettling ecstatic copulation

As soon as our unsexy wars
and aggressions end in timeless peace
overcoming both internal theological
nature v spirit ambivalence,
and external ecological
secular v sacred indifference.

Sexual integrity
is not a mainstream path
toward bodhisattva
and messianic compassion,
much less completion.

It is not a shortcut,
although long-term ecstatic belonging
with Earth and all Her sexy Tribes
may be an outcome of mature
ecofeminist compassion.

Whether true or not
I remain cautiously aware
I am not yet mature enough
to curiously
and courageously
know,
explore,
systemically and resonantly design,
compassionately and multi-sensually
polypathically and polyphonically
ecologically and theologically redevelop.

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I’m Fine

His life felt sick.
Filled with ick

And she was sighing,
inside dying.

Yet, when asked,
her response
entirely unresponsive,
“I’m fine.”
puts her compassionate listener
in a double-bind.

Do I ask her if she is intentionally lying
or irresponsibly
out of her self-isolating mind?

Neither one
feels more kind
and patient,
still, uncommunicating
and yet curious.

Could it be
she is embarrassed
about being merely mortal?

A caregiver
without sufficient tools
or even weapons
to assure EarthTribe’s
resonantly healthy non-confrontations
with degenerative trends
sometimes overwhelming
normal regenerative
narrative twists and bends,

A mother
who must only be
an omnipotent caregiver,
without sustained support
as one of us
co-arising care receivers?

What good is universal health care giving
without reciprocal
compassionate care receiving?

And, how could we,
why would we,
when should all Earth’s caregivers
deny our patriarchal climates
of pathology?

When our allies are sick
and filled with unanticipated ick.

 

 

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Uncategorized

An Anxiously Anticipated Event

Dear John,

All day
yesterday
I loaded up with a cascading river
of mixed anxiety and anticipation
about what to safely and kindly,
transparently and vulnerably
compassionately, so non-violently, share
communicate;

Which narrative tributaries to choose
within this vast spacetime stream
of choices
directions
felt depressions and erections.

Do you remember
communication theory
framed as Rhetorical Events?

Our initial walk and talk,
eating together,
rather than my refrigerator foraging
brunchtime usual rawfood practice,
is a graced green,
rain giving way to blue, memory for me,
and, I hope, for we
these sacred walking
secular talking
people.

Successful rhetorical events,
as I recall,
and have co-passionately experienced
with ecstatic thrills
and mysterious chills of anticipation,
wanting more and more
cascading throughout my too isolated life,

Are cooperatively held spaces
resonant and verbal and non-verbal places
longing to become resilient
as ultra-violet light
in phosphorescent mystical night,
bright
and warm
without ballistic fright,
inviting sounds of sight.

So I drove home
basking in such rich
potentially resilient
transparent and vulnerable
articulate yet impassioned
felt experience
confirming all my own ego’s grand theories
about win/win non-violent
Rhetorical compassioning
Events.

My anxieties spoke later
about mutual physical
natural, yet also spiritual,
attraction–
this smell and taste neurological chemistry
of touch exhaling
to co-empathically predict
our romantically felt quality
inhaling integrity’s great resilient passions,
shared loves
communal,
deeply green cooperative,
that rhetorical day
as true and beautiful for us.

It has been thirty years
since my last first date,
with a man who became my unanticipated husband,
partner
spouse
lover
quarreler
critic
listener
emotive voice
co-investor
political ally
communicator
miscommunicator
long-term rhetorical event
cooperative space-holder,
mediator
not really quite green enough
for resonant felt
and thought co-passionate experience
near our end
of cohabitation.

Nearly half my lifetime,
thirty years,
and I feel anxious
I have not yet learned
appropriate new old person rules
of transparency
and vulnerability
to be clear
and kind,
compassionately clear
about my natural/spiritual
physical/metaphysical attractions,
anticipations,
anxieties.

When I last dated
a gay encounter of the first kind
either ended nakedly together
or with a scheduled second date
with a bed
or a sling
or a deserted moonlit beach
front and center on our anticipated menu

Or ended in disaster,
no connection,
no further warm and resonant communication,
no passing green light Go!

I did not “date”
men who lived so very far away,
out of state,
unless one of us was planning to relocate
or both of us were anticipating
an extremely resonant
one hot night stand
lying down together,
exploring all the vertical
and horizontal dances
we could imagine ever wishing we had done
to further gather
future’s warm anticipations.

I am anxious
because I do not want to disappoint you
or me
about our embodied
non-verbal communication
and passion together.

My own nakedness
lies nowhere near my vulnerable
and transparent self-esteem
as was the case
when I last dated
and I do not know
what to do
and not do
with that.

I have no mentors,
no wise teachers,
no therapeutic facilitators,
no sex therapist
to talk and touch me through
this anxiety.

But, I do anticipate
an unfortunate comparison
I met on our silvered dating site
the same day I first heard you
connect climate pathological effects
with capitalistic causes,
which immediately won my curiosity
to know
just how deeply knowing
we might go
together,
and not apart.

I met another singer
another meditator
another deeply
physically connected
to Taoist sensory communication
yangly verbal and yin non-verbal,

More physically incarnated
and less metaphysically abstract
less theoretical
merely rhetorical
more mature
aged
connected like wine with cheese
and re-connected
than my own experience
in how to mutually
yet maturely
please.

Last evening we talked.
His voice sings and rings,
warmly chills and quietly thrills.

And, he is closer.
Teaches dance.
We anticipate learning together
how to tango horizontally
without creating an entangled mess
at our ripe old average age
of 69

Which,
when I last dated
was a cooperatively rhetorical
erotic position
and not an age
which we sensually anticipated
without great anxiety
about resilience
of sensual resonance.

For me,
this need not be a win or lose,
either-or situation.
Even less so
if I thought the two of you
would appreciate each other
in this partner searching
lifeline rivered
shivered way,
but that is not what I would anticipate
either of you would say.

So, that is what is on my mind
and heart
and root chakras
this another deep green
ego-centering
and ecosystemic rhetorical day.

Said my vertical horizontal way,
physical and metaphysical
natural and spiritual
secular and sacred
love with you
and hell to pay,
anxiously anticipating
your kind
non-maligned
response.

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Uncategorized

Conventional Lectionary

Definitions:

Nationalistic Trumpism:
Republicans,
willing to embrace fascism,
to reactively
and even ballistically defend
Straight Western White Male
economic
and political
unintelligent privilege.

Green Global Democrats:
The remainder
of our health/wealth bicameral Rainbow.

 

 

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Please Do Panic

Writing yet another note to my straight white CongressMan,
asking him to Please, Do Panic
about all this fear-based non-legislation
undemocratic fascist
nationalistic Win/Lose evolutionary corrupt
democratic devolution
going on around
and within us,

I’m wearing a white 1970s vintage Tshirt
from Castro Street’s Don’t Panic
political resistance and celebration
apparel.

Fifty years later,
I think it is well past time
to take the cooperativist
win/win panic plunge,

With a bold
black framed message:

THE RELIGIOUS RIGHT
IS WRONG

My son’s Haitian-American nurse,
married
and straight
as a military-industrialized arrow,
without the slightest quiver
of vocalized doubt,

Sexy darkbrown skin,
greying at his wisdom temples,
and a devout capitalist 7th Day Adventist
family provider man
of second or third evangelical generation,

Wants to know
if he, in 2020,
is affiliated with what my Tshirt says
to the Religious Right of 1975.

Possibly,
but I have always known you
as part of a Spiritual Right,

Which does not
too liberally judge
outside your own sensory satisfactory experience,

And is informed
and transparently curious
to learn from your own
sensory anticipations
of healthy smells
and wealthy tastes,
what feels good
and touches right,

And to responsibly stretch
your own sensory anxieties/anticipations
without blaming
or ambiguously shaming yourself
for not accepting who you are
right now
in this life
flowing toward
who we will become sacredly together,
spiritually and naturally,
tomorrow.

Which must,
in good right faith,
inevitably become a more rooted choice
to not be some other spiritual
or anti-spiritual life,
sometimes anxious about monoculturally competing
and other times anticipating
multicultural engagement
to be most naturally/spiritually right
in the ZeroZone pocket
of just Right EarthNursing balance.

Finding right religion
in natural/spiritual sensory experience;
your own phenomenological journey
embeds our shared ontological history
of sensory
neurological reweaving
re-ligioning psychological
left/right
yang/yin ancient sensory co-arising climax
of co-awareness,
consciousness,
co-operative con-scientiousness,
Ego/Eco-Systemic Balance.

My son’s 7th Day Adventist
Black Lives Matter
Haitian-American straight male nurse responds,

“Thank you.
That’s true.”

“Where can I find this shirt?
I would like one to wear
to our church picnic.
My extended Right spiritual family
will have many paniced health questions.”

And concerns
about green democratic wealth, I add.

“And, as you say,
some surprisingly grateful
gospel faith
anticipations.”

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Leisurely Pleasures

Leisure:
Like retirement,
a feeling
achieved through patient paths
of health
and safety.

Pleasure:
A similar feeling
achieved through polypaths
of healthiest wealth
and risky win/win opportunities,
more actively curious
than passively patient.

Resiliently resonant,
leisurely pleasured
sensory awareness
we can no more be
with the same person,
in the same place,
at the same time, twice
Than we can re-enter
the same river twice.

Baptismal pleasure
is less about one time immersion
than full time rapture.

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UnNatural Climates

Speaking of climate health
and multicultural wealth,…

Yes. You have a question?…

Were you here for our previous session?…

No, I mean our most recent dialogue,
published just before this one….

OK.
Well, we were speaking of,
while deep listening to,
natural health systems
and spiritually nurturing ecopolitical wealth networks….

Natural climate health
and spiritual,
multiculturing conservational
conversational wealth,
of whole organic
open living systems
temporally unidirectional,
yet spacetime ZeroZone multilaterally
polypathic leftbrain
and polyphonic rightbrain….

Yes.
Thank you for your questions.
Anyone else?

OK, so I will assume those still present
and silently contemplating
were here for our prior guided dialogue
about non-violent communication
with religious rightwing dualists
fundamentalists
evangelically leftbrain dominant
monoculturally sinful and/or ignorant

Of a crucial difference,
severance,
double-binding oppositional bipolar divide,
a barrier to mutually helpful communication
we experience
between a sacred, theological experience
of reconnecting
reknotting
religion

And a secularized natural ecological relationship
of disconnecting
segregated
degenerating
privileged
violently closed
monoculturally supremacist
anti-religious dogmatic theory
of supremely autonomous anthropocentrism…

Yes,
like only humans
could live fully in Heaven
as on healthy Earth.

Which is much more about violently sinful nature
and fear of natural-spiritual sensory compassion
and closed system mortality
and anti-holistic
open handed eco-political democratic experience
within multicultural spirit optimization networks,

Leftwing/rightwing
bicamerally non-violent communication,
compassionate communion,
cooperative dialogue
restoring EarthTribe
natural health with spiritual wealth
democratic discernment

Speaking of climate health
and multicultural wealth….

Yes.
More, rather than less,
where we left off
in our prior right on
dialogical session.

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Winter’s Writing Choices

Approaching winter…

OK, maybe encroaching mid-winter
of life’s seasonal span
with resonantly compelling grace,
perhaps even transparent vulnerability,
feels controversial,
too laissez-faire

Too much courage
in declaring preliminary success
with too little curiosity
about what happens next
on planet Earth

Continuing to revolve all four seasons
dynamics
holistic lenses.

I recall the poet’s admonition
to not go quietly
into this winterish
cold night.

Life’s final reflective opportunity
does not invite quiet
so much as impassioned peace
of a windless snowfall
blanketing all I can see
and more faintly hear,
touch and awkwardly feel,
smell and bittersweetly taste
unsafe passage.

I recently moved from autumn habitat,
a creative tension between summer’s midlife climax
and this new winter habit
above Connecticut’s exquisite Salmon River.

This is a compromised writer’s winter hermitage
shared with my son who cannot speak
but can roar,
who cannot walk by himself
but can scoot
and belly laugh at his own internal sensations
and my external sensational sounds.

And, following Daquan
from my fall habitat
to winter’s eremetical search for peace,
however coldly displaced,
with social
and political
and spiritual
and natural distancing,

Behind Daquan
are daily in-home nurses
and his most avid companion,
my romantically distanced husband.

He comes bearing gifts
of clothes,
cleaning supplies,
far too much meaty food
for a proper hermitage
and not enough
for sufficient redemption
and for self-forgiveness.

He comes unaware of my ecofeminist wintering spirit,
longing for Earth’s warm womb justice
restoring peace
resilient through all four seasons
of present
past
and future Earth lives.

My ecofeminist lineage
feels too white to him,
not a journey for him
and our two brown sons
and my brown and cerebral palsied daughter
and Daquan.

So, this writer’s winter hermitage
remains newly compromised by past fall
and summer
and even spring
of extended multicultural family life.

May it always be so
or no,
I’m not sure which to pray for
or against
as I quietly write
into this warm and peaceful night,
just right,
not too dim or bright.

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Family Memory Daze

My family
remembered now
and in our projected
integral future,
in this eco-political body
of spirited
natural Earth,

Birthing
and dying,
regenerating
and degenerating,
easing
and diseasing,
healthy
and pathological,
good humored
and bad hearted,

Unconsciously contemplating,
co-template-recreating
cooperative memorable days
and deep matriotic nights.

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Waking Up Lumpy

Wake up grumpy
tired
much older than yesterday.

Day fifty-seven,
an irrationally
not nice
non-round number,
since defiantly challenging daughter,
with the contextual right-brain unhealthy intelligence
of a sociopathic alligator,
last came home from school
or anywhere without me.

Remembering her school’s response
when I suggested her six-hours-per-day aide
five days per week
not be switched out every week
or two.
She doesn’t do well with transitions
including interpersonal change,
lack of power to control
a significant Other’s time
to stay
and go.

While aware this is an issue,
their larger concern was burn-out.
Aides couldn’t tolerate the intensity
of her hostility
and constant need
need
need for attention,
for food,
for distraction,
for action,
for…

Wondering how the best of her school supporters
would feel after 228 consecutive
six-hour shifts

Without any supervisor
capable of reassuring me
or him
or her
or them
or us
of how many more to go
without adequate social distancing
within our lumpy quarantine space.

No possible reassurance
or warning
we’re just getting started,
about to end,
over the hump,
or not so much,
actually.

Perfect.

Definite only about feeling humped out
and jumped in
lack of ease,
sucked out potential for unguarded rest.

Feeling sorry for myself,
yes,
but also for her,
and for all of us
who have taken risks
to give long-term care
where receiving care in response
is not a reasonable
or compassionate
expectation of hope-filled ways,
faithful truths,
loving lives

Quietly waking up grumpy
in unsolidarity
unsolitary confinement.

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