Uncategorized

Summer Hostage

Our small loop of a street
usually quiet
Today receives a loud grooming
with chain saws
and wood chippers
and diesel trucks slicing
and ruining silence
into anti-solitude.

This is my last day off
until summer school begins
in two sultry weeks.

Morning rain passed through
to breezy summer camp sun,
crisp shade tree shadows
moving slightly within lush grass
waiting for my non-motorized mower.

It feels queer…
I feel queer,
at sixes and sevens
at 67,
to trust that I need
not just more solitude
to become healthy again,
but more silence
to become vocally wealthy
again.

To go
or to stay
here
too near a State highway
trafficking toward two casinos
now more native to American economies
than Native Americans to empowerment.

This last bus
not quite upon us
while thoughts wonder
and feelings wander
about shouting sawers
and clanging chipper
banging my longing
back to a rural dirt dust-path
along side a Michigan Centennial Farm
where I knew breezy
silent
summer encampment days
of solitary
fresh freedom.

I wonder why
we can’t go home again,
Yet I can go back to childhood
solitude served up
in sacred silence
unsettling memories
of childhood freedoms lost.

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Uncategorized

Blah Friday

I need a vacation
from vacation unbreaks.

Bad Friday
falls seven days after spring break begins,
Which is a break for some kids
and teachers without kids,
but not for grandpa parent me,
and my sociopathic daughter,
who needs the structure of small
specialized classrooms
to get through her most resilient day.

It feels healing to step outside
into softer breezy voices
green with overly optimistic promise
that Everythin gonna be aright.

Rain threatens
yet wide patches of sky blue
promise western horizon hope,
for now

Faith that tomorrow,
which feels unforgivingly far from Now,
yet stuck in Here,
I will wake to compassionate forgetfulness,
lack of memory
of nearly all black bleak Fridays
transpired,
de-valued by my owned
and negligently managed
lack of parental investment
in larger self/other care;
that old ego/eco-balancing
narrow-way game.

Tomorrow,
just another Saturday/Sunday weekend,
between BadFriday wounds
and rainy Monday
school day blues
and jazz dance in the garden
with a Great Turning shovel.

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Uncategorized

Heading Out

I said My son
you have your house
and sometimes food,
You have your phone
and sometimes fuel,
You have your girl
and sometimes friends
are also fools

But an uninspiring vacation
won’t work for you
without a sacred green vocation,
a prime goddess avocation
a divine nature revolution
spirit evolution
peaceful resolution
soulful restoration.

What Earth needs now
to hear from you
Is tell Her how
to hear your true.

If you can do that
then She’ll share with you
Why you can come home
in life’s eco-school
where hearts speak out loud
for laws not so cruel.

Teach us how
to cooperate,
Not compete
to masturbate
old ideas
not so great of late,
White House dreams
flame our heads. Berate
what we need
from where we wait
to plant our seeds
to harvest great
what each one sees
on our knees
saluting trees
with freedom’s breeze
to cooperate
and resonate,
not misoperate
tooirresponsibly disassociate.

Seeking now what you would find
if your dad’s ass weren’t far behind
where you would like for us to be
where I listen while you pee
out whatever comes to be
because we plant as our vocation, see
what we harvest as Earth’s most fabulous avocation,
Hot Mama green and glorious vacation

Goin’ out to green associate
what LeftBrain learned to dissociate
from RightBrain ultra-violate.

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Uncategorized

On My Beach

I’ve missed watching most clouds floating past
during this life,
probably better as a spectator sport
than an insider’s game.

I’ve missed most summer-fertile ferries
available in my life.
Usually watching from the shore,
passed by to wonder how it would feel
to see and smell and taste more
of exotic destinies and times,
tropical paradise
thick jungles and majestic ranges
feeding hungry oceanic eyes of other visitors
on this spinning miracle of life.

Perhaps in my next life
I will become a fairy
bringing those who say Yes!
to ancient plateaus of earthquake riding delight.

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