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
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
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.


Recycling Values

Values and disvalues
absorbed through communication
of felt relationship,
absence of connection,
hopeless excommunication.

The Left bereft
Brain justified,
weaponed for rational utilitarian consistency,
reified verbal logic
of neurological systemic Spirits,
feeling co-related events,
critical memories
epic predator/prey histories

Recalling ecologies of sensory attachment/detachment,
felt experience networks of virtual spiraling health values,
virtuously co-arising felt re-experience ecosystems,

And viciously degenerating
unraveling disvalue cycles,
pre- and post-cycles,

Feeding healthy value feelings,
unhealthy disvalue memories
and back
and back to when Space first felt Earth’s shift
balancing bilateral TimeFlow
for virtuous communication

Ego in Here listening kindly
within EarthTribe’s perpetually felt spirals
of revolving Now light,
Then dark…