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Eyes of a Dying Wolf

I looked through the eyes of a dying wolf
to see fires flaming out our horizon
as long as this wild wolf had seen.

He saw a time
when seizures
were currencies of sorcerors,
shamen and shawomen
born of supremely loving matriarchs.

Seizure medicine knew its own advent
echoing sources speaking dreams of manna geese
flying home for our first through last
Win/Win Thanksgiving Day
through fire extinguishing night.

Thanksgiving Peace Dreams
after fires and erupting volcanoing
seizures,
and also before peace dreams of hope-fired relationships,
responsible as authoritative Win/Win faith,
respect for powers of multiculturing love
over monoculturing fears
of fires for volcanoed hate
of gun-fires flaming out horizons.

I looked through the eyes of a not yet dead wolf
to see fires of restorative justice
for Thanksgiving Days and Nights of Peace
sweeping all Win/Win full-fired horizons
of Wonder as Sacred Flaming Awe.

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When I Fall In Love

As my wife once taught me
Women knew all about trimming
and cleaning
an harvesting the fertile forests of Earth
long before I ever thought to depilate my back
and other parts.

As my wife continues teaching me
I am not quite sure what she means
but it feels important
to more than just our reforesting relationship
and its odds of continuing
into future regenerative climaxes.

As my wife predicted,
I forget to carefully listen
until she culminates with climaxes.
And then she surely owns my belated attention.

The matriarch voice of my life
bewitches,
bothers,
and bewilders me
while we fall in love
we become ecopolitically out to lunch,
indefinitely,
reforesting and ecotherapizing
without fear or anger-marketing
about how to transcend vulnerable boundaries
to mutual empathic nakedness.

This matriarch voice and I
love (0)-sum WinWin reforesting
as health care co-operative wealth management
of mutually accessible climates
for spiraling regenerativity trends
externalized as Yang,
internalized reforesting,
reweaving waves of notnot Yin,
wu-wei,
RealTime 4D Ego/Eco-Balancing

Falling in love with Yin
all over again,
PermaCulturing Operas
sung and danced
while remembering
as my imaginary wife continues teaching me
Thought Experiments
through real fractal double-binary
informating
exgravitating
bilateral ecosystemic time.

I am not quite sure what she means
but it feels wu-wei important
to more than just our reforesting-deforesting relationship
and its odds of even continuing
into future
through past reweaving
regenerative climaxes.

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Color Blind

Some people say they don’t see color.

I look for others who do see color
with owl wisdom
and want to make abundant variety with it,
with us and of us.

I long to see more multiculturing colors
and less monocultural monochromatic
shades of ecopolitically grey responsibility
for opportunities at-risk
among those who don’t matter.

Some people see color and say “Why?”
Yet when I see that same color as nutritional,
wisdom might well exclaim “Why not!?”

Ask not what your eagle nation’s wild color-strong nutrients can do for you;
ask what your nutritional wise owl colors can do for our
way too monoculturing nation.
Or, even better, ask both eagle and owl
day strength and night wisdom
as if co-arising and yet nondual.

Some people say they don’t see color
but have no problem remembering their own,
and lack thereof.

I look for those who do see color
and hope to make far more wisdom of it
than I could ever imagine alone.

 

 

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It’s Nothing Personal

You say it’s nothing personal
this neglect you throw my way
but surely you can see it is political
to fire me from power within your life this day?

And, if political then economic
as we have no investments or divestments
without some self and/or other empowerment intention
of relational transaction
or disinvestment from what had been
mutually empowering relationship.

No longer hope of these ecopolitical transfers
of self with other power
that have meant so much to me,
for me,
of me.
Yet, yes I can see,
you need to protect yourself
with this belief
that somehow neglect of therapeutic process
is nothing personal,
just political and economic.

Thanks so much for this reminder
our sacred relationship
was merely your secular commodity.

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Polypathic Paradigms

The more I read of systematic science and theology
the less logic I find in their continuing distinctions,
their supposed mutual immunity,
their difference without a difference.

They neither have multiculturally defined nor disagreed about point of Origin,
nor evolving destination toward Omega,
nor whether those two might be the same or different
in some temporal way,
nor have we refined nor resolved all evolutionary creation stories in-between.

For me, their respective richness
is found where they most agree.
What science sees as Earth and Heaven’s natures,
religion transcends as Spirit of Intelligent Health.

What Earth reveals as ecologic of natural systems,
the Heavens unveil as ecopolitical multicultural harmonics of con-science.
Religion calls to worship
what polypathic scientists love to adore,
mysteries of dipolar co-arising revolutions,
comprehending new economies of relationship
as never seen to love before.

Eros/Animus/Yang powers co-gravitational evolution
as Agape/Anima/Yin co-arises elational revolution.
DualDark Eros,
secret passions for blissful notnot union with sustained integrity,
Janus face of ecopolitically positive pronomials,
Agapic Resolutions singing resonant anthems of primal reunions,
dancing multicultural rainbows
waving rings and strings of love’s ecological plasmatic climate streams,
co-choreographing evolutions,
conjoining private pilgrimages within larger transpeciating regeneration stories.

Anthrocentric bodies govern erotic/psychotic chemistries
as EarthCentric mind/memories govern agapic/nihilistic,
health/pathology autonomic instincts of DNA/RNA fractal-holonic scriptures,
evolving cooperative/competitively dissonant regenetic languaged consciousness
of scientific-heuristic distinctions between now and next,
with and without experiential difference
tipping/notnot-tipping scales of love v mutual immunity.

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Answers with Questions

“There ain’t no answer. There ain’t going to be any answer. There never has been an answer. That’s the answer.” Gertrude Stein

Because there ain’t no question.
There ain’t going to be any question.
There never has been a question.
That’s the question, why?

Because there ain’t no answer.
There ain’t gonna be no answer.
Never was an answer.
That’s my answer.
Because.

Empathy grows body chemistry for asking Why.
Trust responds with mind’s body therapy
for responding Because.

Antipathy grows WhyNot questions.
Deeply learned distrust responds with pathology,
Because not for me,
of me,
by me,
with me,
like me,
in me,
near me–
nearly universal assumption strings of mutual hate immunity.

CoEmpathic love evolves chemistry for inviting Why and WhyNot.
Political trust emerges therapeutic resonant resolutions
mutual reiterations
Become our cause.

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Finals

If I had one last hour with you
would I be able and willing to speak?

What could we say or sing again?
Or perhaps something hidden from view until now,
our final hour,
otherwise left unsaid.

Would words get in our way?
We might compose a final anthem,
torch song,
jazz impovisation
dispelling my decomposition story.

Could you put me down
like a cherished family dog?
On my side
you behind
my head on your shoulder
listening to us breathe our goodbye,
drifting into a more timeless embrace.

What final words might I wish to hear
or might words feel too distracting
for this sacred task,
to fill one final hour,
squeeze out all unfinished agendas
before this final curtain.

I fear I would have no more clue
of what to say and do
my last hour
than I did not my first.
A final wail
to bookend my first noisy gasp for breath.

It seems less surprising now
that I so often feel a loss of words
when relationships become compressed by time,
or even imagined as our time’s last hurrah.
Why would this last hour differ
from first and all self constraining hours between?

Final words and lives despise predestined mortality,
knowing Trees of Life predict Death Root Systems,
sitting and standing
and even lying down
bowing in to end
what we wondrously begin again.

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