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View from a Sanctuary

He retired to his sanctuary
on the Eastern shore of the Thames River
three years ago,
an often frustrated permaculture organizer
for building cooperative social health
by creatively communicating climate wealth
growing ZeroZone positive multicultural tao-energy.

This proves reclusively frustrating
in large part because non-taoist neighbors and family
are unfamiliar with his iconic language
and green cooperative health faith
in democratic natural/spiritual
absence of violent communication
and perfect vacuum of conspiracy theory prejudice.

His RightBrain eco-centrism
LeftBrain deductive/inductive bicameral integrity search,
His bilateral historic future synergy,
trilateral energy dynamics,
quad-lateral nutrition cycles
playing virtuous WinWin health games
more than vicious WinLose capitalistic
dualistic WinLose ZeroSum theories
growing internal spirit against external nature,
personal against political,
ego against eco-therapeutic competitions
which could become cooperative constituents
with secular/sacred longings for love
as red sky morning warnings
greet coral sky dusk.

Love growing boisterously loud
contagious
courageous
curious grace
meeting hearts this day bilateral
greeting hearts this night bicameral
dreaming meeting hearts tomorrow multilateral
beating integrity hearts bicameral
this tomorrow’s integral night
absorbing ultra-violet sight.

His new home lies on the Thames River
flowing between Norwich,
former blue heron sanctuary
giving life and feeding Old Green EarthTribes
watering downriver to reforest New London’s community gardens,
cooperative artisans,
green motherland trusters,
Black ProLives Matter Allies,
United MultiCultural Green Ethicists,
coastal bands,
liturgical dancers,
fire-circle story-tellers and peace activists,
restorative EarthJustice advocates.

He has been humbled by crippling Norwich need
for more nutritious green blue heron spaces
and street entertainers
gardeners repurposing public spaces
dancing nutritional arts
and ecovillage well-schooled sciences

And has experienced rebirth
in New London green parties
hosting organic legions of multicultural youth leaders
struggling with recreating non-violent communications
supporting a cooperative casino potlatch economy
re-investing in Thames River CoOperative Enterprises.

This WiseElder hears his River flowing land-trust neighbor
refer to herself
in ultra-violet starlit language
transporting Old Green EarthTribe’s Main Street
for historically cooperative constitutions
incorporating permaculturing development
of polycultural songs
sung by polypathic tidal waters
competing up and cooperating down

Reflecting crystal star light
throughout effluent non-violent nights
remembering
reweaving
dancing sunlight therapeutic days
when love beats love,
beauty meets beauty,
trust invites trust,
faith predicts faith,
hope omits fear.

This Green EarthTribe River feels familiar
growing up in an extended farm family
still pushing and pulling out WiseElders
exploring cooperative ecopolitical climates
restoring peaceful organic forests
tree-lined nutritional MainStreet Rivers
surrounded by surprisingly self-managed meadows,
healthy ego ecosystems
inhabited by wealthy cooperative EarthTribe memories
transubstantiating constitutional healthy non-violent communions
indigenous with colonial
wildly democratic and yet conservatively explosive

Evolution glowing in a revolutionary erection.

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Stalked by August Trees

Every time I change directions
lately, and possibly beforely,
Trees stand by to mentor
and nurture,
to feed with branched hands
to bleed when uprooted
from aptic past centuries
of hibernating winter naps.

Trees of original pheromone attraction,
August spawned
like Taurus colonizing crabgrass
embedded in deep horticultural learning root systems
self-with-other cooperative matriarchal
reverse-hierarchical
healthcare.

I’m driving my deep royal blue truck
without 1.5 tons of empty ideas
about why we tell each other we hope to plant trees
and edible urban goodnews landscapes.

And why deeper resilience
might invite us to think more extended family
about locally edible preferences for foragers
of all healthy species,
edible and humanely divinely ornamental.

Nor why merely WinWin ornamental undervalued lives
rather than Win/Lose edible and commodified deaths
bring more or less longterm health-resilient values
for unhungry people
and rapid but not rabid rabbits
and self-satisfied maternal turtles
and bedded oysters
and slow-grown snails
and sleek blue herons,
just because they too
can appear deep royal blue
when standing studying wet
nutritional environments
under a canopy
of May raining births and bursts
of pheromone coming leaves.

Why do healthy MotherTrees,
edibly and ornamentally developing,
cooperatively co-managing multicultural Trust with Beauty,
lust for a diversely wealthy woodland?
Responding to August pheromones
with healthy diastatic climax
here near our urban queered Thames River,
formerly Shetucket from the north and east,
and frantic Yantic
to those Western First TreeNation shored.

I remember driving
toward a first-time rendezvous
with another TaurusBrother,
deep royal purple
from early August sun
beneath picnic tabled shade trees.

Wearing broad branched shoulders
Armaments extending his Taurus pheromones
well beyond his white wife-beater
understory.
If not in heated August,
Would he still be my shade tree husband,
mentor of Win/Lose nature v spirit detachments
disassociations
half a well-branched tree story
without valuing rich deep ornamental August roots?

I want to plant fruit
and nut
and date trees,
and edible oyster
and clam
and turtle
and river-watered healthy habitat
because I am a more ornamentally interesting
and edibly invested tree of Taurus confidence
when planting and watching,
with authorized RightBrain WinWin gratitude,
graceful Trees of multiregenerational
sacred ecological
cooperative tree-rooted
August pheromone life.

Returning from an Urban Agriculture
cooperative conversation
about why we hope to heal
our jonesing
almost August souls
planting and caring for young growing Trees
seduced into reborn leaving life
by May becoming rich soil
and climate atmospheric pheromones.

WinWin Trees
and seasonally revolving pheromones.
I suppose these are why
I choose planting edible trees
with fellow ornamental minds
as these healthy WiseElders
planted RightBrain sacred wealth-inviting climates
reforesting Left/Right branching deep rich Green
August climaxing pheromones.

Trees WiseElder cared for my original farmhouse home,
oak and fir and maple
surrounding
shaded August rutting adolescent heat

Driving home
to my favorite stalking Trees
in my deep royal blue,
with WinWin green resilient interior,
August pheromanic Truck.

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Rose City

I live in a rose-tinted town
bowing mainly to White Western skies
bleached of blue blooded color
but also of dire Eastern dawns
with smoky red skies,
warning farmers and gardeners
taking and giving nutritional cover
under bad-blooded weather
on our way to further apart.

I live in a NorthEastern place
replete with geriatric grace
yet less mindful of holistic medicines
less conscious through holy meditations
less wholesome
with cooperative administrations
of home
and families
and neighborhoods
as wholesome 7-Generation multihoods.

I live in a public space
directed by private embrace
toward trusting love of all four directions
all eight lifetime resurrections

From infant to child,
child to pre-teen,
pubescent to late adolescent,
where U.S. culture seems to be LeftBrain stuck,
between delayed adolescents and too young adults,
young adults toward mature polyculturists
voters listening to WiseElder leaders,
WiseElder leaders
longing to conjoin CoMessiahs
and Bodhisattva Warriors
and PolyCulturing Yogis
and MultiCulturing EarthScientists
and PolyPhonically inclined EarthArtists
and PolyPathic EarthEducators and Mentors.

Researchers and Designers
of full-octaved trust,
if for no positively healthy reason,
to avoid hatreds of anti-trust
and ambivalent angers
seeking secular mistrust
and equivalent fears
finding infinite misery
pathologies.

I live in a rose-scented town
where three polluted rivers conjoin
worshipped by LastNative gamblers
reweaving our vapid ritual bows
within all four fractal revolving dimensions.

I live in a rose-fading town
aging while watching southwestern drought,
at risk of growing coastal
as Northern blizzards of chaos
compete with Southern hurricanes and tornadoes
of flooding tsunamic complexity.

I live in a rose memory town
filled with ghosts of LeftBrain dominant climatic pathology
rising up to restore RightBrain with Left
peace from within,
settling down to withstand
capital punishments
ego-justified retributions
without rose-tinted glasses.

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The Senior Center

The Senior Center was a beehive of active waiting
to die.

Bingo
but not ballroom dancing.

Knitting
but not garden expansions.

Physical therapy
but not yoga
and not chi gong,
much less mindful meditations
sung in four part harmony.

The new guy,
just growing into sixty-five,
asked them
How would we like to be remembered
one hundred years from now?

That doesn’t seem likely,
I know,
but perhaps more likely together
than playing Solitaire
side by side.

I would like to be remembered
as healers of The River
said a somber SeptemberGenerian woman
surrounded by ancient lady friends.

No one needed to ask why.
We all knew
what was coming downriver
for future regenerations
of thirsty toxined minds
with biodiverse bodies.

And so we found younger allies
who owned property along The River,
beginning with the railroad company,
and the Mohegans
and the Pequots,
where a Senior knew a Senior
with a well-placed daughter,
and sometimes a son
of unusual cooperative and long-term focus.

Together we planted firs
and cedars along polluted and denuded banks,
for future generations to manage,
harvest for housing
and furniture
and fiber
and possibly even coffins
waiting for memories of polluted rivers
to die.

That was one hundred years ago
we started
in this regenerative Senior Center,
and still going strong
as each year
a new incoming class
of those who finally reached sixty-five
joined our river healing project,
more recently also producing fruit trees
and berries,
flax
and hemp,
mushrooms
and nuts
and sweetgrass baskets
woven by SeptemberGenerians.

Women and a few surviving men
and some more in-between
smiling together
at the round cedar table in the back,
remembering Elder healers
of our barren land
and naked River.

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Underground Rivers

Underground rivers unsettle thoughts,
feelings on stable ground.

Real estate doesn’t sound as real
with thoughts of hyporheic flow
beneath our feet,
out of sight and sound.

Rivers are meant to have light on top,
transparency.
Underground flow must look more like a furtive capillary
than an upfront tributary,
bringing salvific moisture
down into and across and through
deep ecological roots of fertility.

Hypostatic unions
are contrasts between understory backgrounds
emerging into focal foreground,
like darkness of night’s flowing complexities
from which light emerges each day
then fades again,
like Yang creation stories
emerging from Yin
hypostatic partnering,
hyporheic flow
deep down within ecological consciousness,
subterranean channels
feeding timeless roots
of healthy real estates,
cooperative becoming.

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Tidal Rivers of Identity

This place
New England space
meets inside without
building forest skill character
wild native nakedness merged with puritan souls
enslaved by dark-skinning self-immolating magic
aboriginal roots of satiating suffered bliss,
Yankee hearts with naive freedoms
to imagine golden ages
accessible to each and all
huddling in fertile Enlightenment passion pastures
within nature’s coredemptive surf-songed light.

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Cardinal Dance

Dance with wind’s breezing flow
blowing in as out,
breathing out then in again
hands and feet extremities of life breath’s hard felt flow
swimming rich with culture’s rhythmic flight
dance of natural spirits timing
red cardinal patterns perching
breath flight moments
held upon fragrant lilac parasols
for sunlighting branches
glowing down into deep elder grey rivers
of hard-shelled sappy gravity
growing dancing in and out
thru eyes without flow in
while breathing life’s dance out.

Dancing rhythmic breaths and bloods,
nurture revolving rivers
of Earth’s ecodancing sufis,
lilac trees with winding sap
from earth-souled root systems
dance flowing life’s swirling
collateral content.
Dancing breath embodies wind
breathing Earth’s flee and flow without
sighted flights of echo image
flying red thru dancing lilacs.

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