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.

Standard
Uncategorized

When I Was Eight

I owned a warm breezed first Spring day
in radiantly refulgent sun
between billowed cumulative clouds
white as sailing sheets
on our vibrating
shaking and tugging cotton clothesline
swaying multi-colored tops
and sun bleached blue jean bottoms.

Like God,
I looked curiously
benignly
warmly down

As industrious ants
with apparently urgent missions
I would never learn how to assign
chewed and sniffed their singular ways
through a forest of shading grass
over dappled shadow soil

Vibrant blades of pointed grass
as tall as trees to ambitious worker ants
sometimes militaristic
but now peacefully recovering
discovering thawed warm roots
of cooperative deep dark Earth.

I could not own a wealthier Spring day
except just now,
at sixes with seven,
often remembering this polished day
and night dreamed moment
beside breeze blown white sailing ships
of sun-scent cotton state
breathing in under first fresh cut lawn
to notice how wee ants live
side-by-side
refurbishing
rubbing up against and with
warm lamped memories

Recreating paths
by imaginatively embodying them
yet again

This first-owned warm Spring breeze
of wistful
divine memory.

Standard
Uncategorized

Sacred Presence

Few who have listened and watched through triumphant birth
and decomposing death
doubt these are most sacred events.

When did all experience in-between
become a sufficiently secular journey
necessarily devoid of unrealistic wonder and awe,
divine curiosity,
and holy wholesome courage?

To live for and with Earth solidarity
listening and watching sacred birth of dawn
and holy death of ultra-violet
non-violent dusk.

Standard
Uncategorized

Dreams Calling Out

I’ve often wondered if my non-verbal
cerebral palsied son
dreams in colors
and/or words
he can hear clearly
but cannot himself see or say,
at least not clearly articulate.

Yet any sounds and gentle touch
we appreciate perhaps too dearly
if that is possible with D,
my wounded son.

So, I was surprised,
after twenty years of delighted wonder,
and awed last new moon night
when he shouted “Hey!” into my ear,
about one inch from his mouth
in that time of darkest sight

While I had been dreaming of stepping out
where full moon’s light
brights a mysterious pilgrimage into mysterious,
perhaps even mischievous, adventure.

My heart sparked
as D shouted Hey! miraculously
just as I was greeting moon light
splayed across our front porch,
intending to leave D behind
to walk out into Earth’s bright staged sights
while leaving him to rest in peace.

My eyes popped open.

While D slept peacefully on,
without triumphant smile or despondent frown,
although perhaps just a hint
of his mischievous shy dimple, down
toward the front of his right cheek
curling open to grace me
with a loopy grateful grin
shallow but neatly round.

Say Hey! together
calling out this night’s pilgrimage spell
swelling day’s scavenging bright
un-voiced adventures
in listening well.

Calling out
to both Sun and Rain
to thank these for their presence
and remind them of covenants
to remain in perpetual organic balance,
co-present presence,
not too hot and ultra-violet,
not too wet
and green moldy degenerate.

Calling out
in dreams of healthy new moons
and wealthy fullness, shout
resting in Advent’s
adventurous
adventuring
peaceful outback pilgrimage
into boundaries of minds
in dreaming bodies.

 

 

Standard
Uncategorized

The Ways Health Breaths

What is the difference
between your highest vocational aspiration
and your better health for all aspirations?

If your answer is
Nothing,
like the sound of two lungs breathing,
then your are on your most promising wealthy journey
into secular with sacred integrity.

There’s a health integrity thread
humane lives follow.

Health grows among natural everyday enchanting things
that spiritually change,
But health,
like love and God, doesn’t change.

People wonder about what health-trend you are pursuing,
You explain,
yet again,
about this globally sacred health thread
of wealthiest vocational time.

But,
health is hard for others to diversely see,
as schools for fish have issues seeing clean, clear water.

Yet, pursuing and perusing slow-grown climate health
is not hard to feel
as a beautiful enchanting thought,
if only also LeftBrain deductively proven
as definitively true
healthy democratic extended family trust.

While you listen for organic health
you can’t get vocationally lost
in RightWing elitist messages.

Climate tragedies happen;
people
and plants
and living planets get hurt
and die;
and your climate anxiety suffers
absence of EarthHealth
becoming depressingly old
before your grandchildren’s time to thrive.

Nothing you do can stop
time’s sacred wealth
of secular health
unfolding.

Everything you do can start
time’s sacred health
of secular wealth
refolding.

Don’t ever let go of this WinWin thread
I AM BEING HEALTH
breathing in
as wealth breaths
generously calling out.

Standard
Uncategorized

Lost Lake Odessa

My world spins round
too fast most times
from Greek deep roots
on Black Sea ports
to cross Jordan’s River
on Catherine’s Great
trains meet sailboats
greeting sea planes
flying off to ports unknown
throughout my Lake Odessa Highways.

Where Ottomans
blend Spanish matadors,
heroes for my day
and night bleeds forth
a calvary of force
to please titillating whims
of Lake Odessa’s middle class czarinas.

I can’t go home again
to places never born.
My mind can roam
and try to swim
and fly to where and what
and whom and why
we might have been
if we had built
a fine fair fortress
for peace that loves to rock
and sing sad songs
of what sights have been
in Lake Odessa.

Instead of gangs
and clicky clacks
we learn polycultured quacks
to flap and honk like Canadian geese,
to transubstand she ate
where America
begins to end
through Lake Odessa’s streets.

I’m much too busy
and self-important
sleep deprived
and programmed lose to lose
to win our way
back home again
where Lake Odessa meets.

The role of God
as played by me
writing comic operas
only kids can see
was what I loved
most secretly
in long lost Lake Odessa.

We need a better god for now
bringing peach tree jams
immortality
of love as wise
reframes lost loves
to live in jesting jars
of honeyed sweet
corns and thorns
for testing streets
tasting ancient Greeks
on shores of Lake Odessa.

We’re coming back
to save each other
from what might have been
without sly rudders,
tipping posts from wu wei mothers
to rebuild our crystal castle love
of forms that buzz with life
and tours that sag with history
spinning sprays of licks and waves
lapping soft and sandy
on long gone skies
of sanguine Lake Odessa.

Standard
Uncategorized

Earth’s EcoZen Garden

I notice Life unfolding each embryo of Time
sewing Earth’s naturally revolving liturgy,
Eco-Rites of Passage
through TransMillennial Time’s fertile transition field,
SuperEco Earthly universe our Garden-Commons home,
shared cooperative space,
human nature’s enculturating language place.

Time unveils creative conscience as incarnating evolution,
Dharmakaya.
Space covers metaphysical gravity valleys of co-temporal metaphor
premised on regeneratively patterned syntax,
analogy as rhapsody,
wealthy places as healthy self-optimizing spaces,
Grace Garden,
karmic Sanghakaya,
biological revolution of Climaxing co-prehension,
Universal Intelligence as Polynomial Information,
budding with Full-Yang power
in dipolar blissful marriage
with Time’s TransParent “dual-dark”
recycling
tipping
functional boundaries,
mutual subsidiarity of self-gravitating Yin-Yin Garden,
polyculture’s natural harmonics.

This bicameral human natured species
hunts Earth’s investments in Time,
mentoring Eco-Balanced SpaceTime optimization,
Yang/Yin climaxization,
our Polycultural Beloved Community,
love as life’s optimal polysystemic Eden-Garden.

Human nature’s DNA
evolves SpaceTime’s regenerative syntax character,
engaging fully HereSpace with NowTime,
EgoSpace emerging through (0)-Soul’s Core fault-line,
Eco/Bio Systemic Time.
Yang EgoDeduction with Yin Eco-normic Induction,
Inflation predicting Conflation,
Inhale previewing Exhale,
balances synergetic power with negentropic co-passion’s Garden,
gathering wisdom.

What rises must fall
What Left-Ego inflated before
will Eco conflate within its slow Right-tempered Time,
could reconnect comprehension with wonder,
might stabilize and sustain Earth’s Gethsemane Garden.

Gethsemane Gardens are messianic dying places,
conflating mass,
decompressing energy,
hibernating hypothermic advents
waiting for bicamerally balancing happier harvest
of cooperative,
inclusive,
co-passionate love stories,
sustained climax-contentment.

Perennial Polycultural Gardens sustain a balance with empty death,
as summer seasonally opposes winter.
Living this co-messianic vocation is less a religious pilgrimage
and more design and development
of our most nutritious Wealth Health Garden,
blending our familial polyculture-guilds,
watering our Earth Tribe’s permacultural vocation,
transforming our Gethsemane Garden
into Time’s ecotherapeutic Paradise.

Standard
Uncategorized

EarthTribe Pilgrimage

I am content to walk alone,

but to walk in company with others

adds vigor and passion to the journey.

Rumi

 

Good Taoists,

although I am not sure I actually know any,

define their inclusively subordinate clauses,

and sentences,

and contracts,

and lives,

their eternally and mutually satisfactory gratitude,

alone

apart

camouflage their cooperative ecological praxis

confluent outcomes of cultural scientific research

within human natural systems

analogically synthesizing principles of Earth’s nature,

Her flow and function

Her decay and dysfunction;

like post-millennial PermaCulturalists.

 

But, Persians and Western Cultures

prefer more compassionate vigor in our strut through

this live-system we inherited from Elders past,

comparatively short-sighted about our global future.

 

All children are scientific researchers of balance,

symmetry,

flow and rhythm.

capacity and lack thereof,

sufficiency and synergy,

and lack thereof.

Human children also evolve as recreative artists

of color, shape, paradigms, stories,

rhythms of patterned confluence,

and denigrated dissonance.

 

We can,

Taoist or not,

child or not,

use dissonance to show us our way

toward confluence.

We are each free to survive,

sometimes thrive,

in this Tao way,

within double-boundaries of systemic spacetime

and imagination, rooted in regenetic memory.

 

Imaginations grow intuitively fueled,

empowered,

passioned,

vigorous,

with polysystemic comprehension of Prime Relationship

P=NP, binomial thermodynamic balance,

as +1 = (-)0, binary ecological

and cooperative economic dominant cultural balance,

with inclusive competitive subsidiarity

to optimize Earth Day’s slow-growth atmosphere

as one EarthTribe Community,

both compassionate,

and, hopefully, still content

with being somewhat less alone,

hiding behind all that camouflage.

 

 

Standard
Uncategorized

Advent Light

Maybe it could be safe

to fade off into the night

with gratitude for light.

 

Perhaps deforming identity

might belong to adventure,

a conciliating pilgrimage

of floating light

drawing us toward each Other’s

original intent.

 

Why couldn’t decay function salvifically,

absorbent healing hidden within ego’s hubris memories,

uncovering carnation’s form

revealing unmitigated synergy

as boundless light’s economy of grace.

 

Light composting fuel’s individuating form,

to sustain ego’s burned out wick,

we pass through light’s regeneration,

flying graceful paths not yet taken.

Standard