Bus Ride To Nowhere

Images go past
And words- both written and sounds
I travel through them
Through both time and space
Insulated by the steel walls and padded seat
My forehead pressed against the coolness
Of the quarter-cracked pane

Speed shifts from minute details that stretch like a Kansas plain
To shutter-speed flashes of half-formed impressions
Painstaking fastness
Or breakneck slow?

The scenery changes- but it's still the same.
Just as the music on the radio with its same 5 chord progressions 
It occurs to me- remakes
Songs and scenes and roads
Time and trips and memories 
They fall in a jolting, yet familiar pattern 

I take a break and stretch 
Regarding the other passengers 
Some stare at their phones
Heads down, focused 
Fingers gliding and lightly tapping over the screen's surface
Others, earbuds in, stare blankly ahead, lost in the sounds of their own world
Some snuggle next to a child, spouse, lover
Others crook their necks, lean back and close their eyes 
Trying to let the monotony lull them to sleep 

I peer out again 
Has the scenery changed?
Yes and no
I feel cramped
My stomach lurches from inaneness
The familiar question coming to mind 
Are we there yet?
Yet that doesn't quite capture it 
The destination no longer seems to matter 
The question is: when can I get off?

The Process

The Process

I try to write

A simple process, one would think, and yet...

Tangles, and torrents, and tidal waves

Rushing, cramming, straining

A subway at rush-hour

Sometimes I wonder if any will make it through

Will come out the other-side unwrinkled

Will manage to keep their vibrancy and light

After being pushed out the canal of thought

Squeezing through, pushing out of the dark

Do they stay the same on their journey?

Or are there bruises, dents, tears;

Imprints of the time within

I feel them sometimes

Pressing, and straining, and clamoring

I try to bring them out, but I lose them

Probably more than I save; I lose

When the survivors reach the end

That isn’t the end- they are weeded out

The weak and mangled are discarded

Tossed as refuse in a back-alley bin

I still hear their disjointed cries

Coming from half-formed mouths

At the end, the weary veterans

Pursuing their mission

Do they speak only for themselves or

Do they speak for their fallen comrades

Are there any left with luster and hope

Any standing whole

The process complete

I sigh, I shudder, and am spent

Nothing more

"Wonder"land

"Wonder"land

If I take in a breath

Hold it

Feel it inside swirling and sinking

Filling and draining me at the same time

And then let go, let it out

The hopes and secret desires

Things left unsaid.

Would they be granted?  Would they be heard?

I decide to try, how hard can it be?

And then... I pause

Wings break, horses run lame (if they show up at all)

There are still dragons, and towers, and frankly

My hair is much too short to be of any use.

I turn away

But the something catches my eye

Candlelight flickering in the glass to my right

The mirror- it calls to me with its siren's song

I'm captivated by its gilt,

Frightened by its darkness

Yet intrigued by a smile

I lean in

Straining to hear the sweet sounds

Peering in and catching glimpses of hundreds of points of light

I'm tipsy and should step back

Catch my breath

Steady myself

But I'm hypnotized, caught in the spell

Oh... the prize

Like the brass ring on a carousel

I stretch out my hand

And tumble

Head over heels

Heels over head

What have I done? 

Hanging just out of reach

"Stars"

The night stretches out

An ebony blanket spread out across the sky

With a cascade of glittering jewels on top

I can almost touch them

The thought of pocketing a couple flits through my mind

A pair, to bridge the distance

From one side to the other

As I sit I contemplate

the shades in the tapestry moving from end to end

and which is the better legend- the design or the shade?

To know where I am, in relation to

someone else, sitting in the night

Wondering if somehow we're enfolded in that same inky cloak

Tucked in as we lie back

Alone together in the solitude of the  dappled darkness 

In the Garden

Reach up and grab the ripe, round fullness

Feel skin, smooth against your fingers

Bring the sweetness to your lips

Take a delectable nibble 

Inside is the moist, tender flesh

Savour it with your mouth

until your hunger is sated

Forbidden fruit is the most exquisite temptation 

Cup of Tea

If I was flawless

Would it be easier?

Easier than to have to deal with the day to day bumps?

The grit.  Seeing beyond the fingerprints and the cracks.

Or harder.

No comparison of the smoothness of your handle

To the fact that my edge is chipped

No salving the wound of the scratch that might be lurking

With the fragments of the gash running across me

I’m not sure.

I can keep on

Buffing, polishing, gluing

I’ll never get there

And maybe I’ll be close enough

And still far enough

That you will set yourself upon me

The Spiders' Waltz

The Spiders' Waltz

A pair of them

Five not eight

Living on 88
Chasing passion and perfection

Tones and time

Crawling up and down

Over and under

Racing, tumbling

Nearly tripping leg over leg

Then still, frozen

but for the slightest tremor

Suddenly, they leap

Landing lightly before they are off again

From corner to corner

Making angles, creating patterns

Weaving intricacies of color from black and white

Now the leaps have become insistent

Aggressive in their pursuit

Determined to extract the cries of their prey

After their conquest

They creep back

Slowly

Quietly

Leg over leg

A final sprawling stretch

Then stillness.

The fading light dancing

In the gossamer strands

Of their creation.

Winter

WINTER

Tunneling through

the cold biting

stinging

numbing

the grey

is endless

heavy and wet

yet trudging on

Digging out

bit by icy bit

a race against

the tiredness

the paralyzing cold

Can the end be seen

no, it is still

white out 

The Chase

Through the meadow in the night

I creep, cautiously testing for

The errant leaf, the careless twig

Eschewing the well-trodden path

In pursuit of…

Achieving calluses, I think wryly

Though I know that isn’t my aim

It is out here, amid the darkness that I come

To find the flickers

To chase the embers

That are so tantalizingly near

Beckoning like a siren’s song

The journey is a myriad of emotions

This pursuit- my internal odyssey

And if I attain my desires- what then

Will there be nirvana- eternal nothingness?

Will I be consumed- like Icarus?

Or will it be an endless labyrinth

With the end only being the beginning

It isn’t clear, however,

My feet do not falter, save

On those stray rocks and twigs

The chase is what consumes me. 

Lead and follow

Dancing

Interchange

Give and take

Lead and follow

And follow and lead

Float and sway

Body and spirit

Rhythm and movement

Independent, together

One but two

But one but more

A room full

Weaving in and out

Life on display

Microcosm

Autumn

Autumn

A solitary leaf

Clinging

Pondering

To let go

Fly

Drift

Lose

Fall

Or to hang on

Safe

Connected

Waning

Lifeless

Remembrances fly past

Growth

Lushness

Purpose

Color

Now at the end

Deciding

If she falls with the others

Will she re-capture?

Lost community

But they lie there

Dead

She hangs

Alone

Breath

Creating

Forming meaning

Are we

                                                                                               Isolated 

                                                    Independent 

Solitude

Within the process

Going within

Deep
Unexplored place

Twisting 

Grappling and wrestling

                       Searching and exploring

No assistance can tell 

In the end

The path

The words

The sounds

Yet…

Transformation occurs

We let go

Suddenly

It is ours no longer

                        A floating balloon

                                       Far beyond our grasp

Do intentions count?

In some hidden space

Is there a record kept

Or are the rights signed over?

The deed                           transferred

                                                     Is it both

A conversation

                                                 A dance

When done with skill

Balance

Life

Equilibrium within ebb and flow

Creation 

                      Ruach over the waters

Reserved

There is a string

A cord that binds

There is a land

Just a corner

That is reserved,

Protected

A piece of soul

There is a part of self

Sectioned off

In this land,

This place

Gentle terrain

Protective hedges

Warm springs that burst to overflowing

No markers

No maps

No lines

One tug

And I’m undone.

A Gift

I have something to give

But it is

Uncontainable

But able to be housed

In many dwellings simultaneously

Yet given to one

Unable to be seen

But able to be shown

Indescribable and layered

Yet basic

Even a child can grasp it

Although many an adult fails to

Easier to give

Than to receive

I stretch out my hands

Open

Full

Come and receive

Lost

Lost my heart

A little at a time

Line by line

Bit by bit

Soul touched soul

Pulling me further and further

One timid step after another

Until I was flooded

Overwhelmed as it hit me

Taking me aback

Leaving me breathless

The constant startling surprise

That when my hand reached out

There would be something there

Something new starting to push out

Up from the ground

Still hesitant and shy

But feeling the warmth

Letting myself uncurl

Learning to enjoy basking in the glow.

Of Leaves and Water

Of Leaves and Water

Walking down a path

Watching

The turning leaves

Caught in a fresh breeze

Go down to the river

Immerse

Scrub

Is it enough?

Can it be enough?

Clinging remnants

Plunge again and again

Till your bones ache

You are certain

“Good fences” is the creed.

But the trespasser comes

Particles

Dirt

Ash

The cycle has to begin again.

The new leaves.

Exodus

Exodus

Confusion

Looking for truth

Is there right?

Groping blindly

The ground shifts

Shadows multiply

Running

Trees gnarled and broken

Jagged path

Hard to keep foothold

Destination unknown

The pale lunar glow

Fades in and out with the clouds

Fleeing in the night

An exodus

No time to leave thoughts to rise

New lands

The Hunted

The Hunted

Paint and feather

Put it together

Bit by bit

Dress it up

Take it out

Turn it up

The lights

The music

The noise

The Other

Dance

Twirl- faster and faster

Leap- higher and higher

                                                                                         The Other

fasterandfasterandfasterandfaster

higherandfasterandlighterANDLOUDERANDLOUDERANDFASTERAND HIGHER

                                                                                                            The Other

The Other

The Other

Back to Center

Back to Center

You walked down a path.

Took a turn

R

O

O

M

S

P

U

N

Walls                                                   shifted

Foundations                s    o      k
                                      h    o
          

                                                

Pushing           you      to         the                                                                   edge

Leviathan

Everything                                             alien

Vaguely familiar

Finally

After Jacobean struggle

Feet on path

Reality returns

Stability

Calm

Order

However

Center has shifted

Never to return

Connected

Connected

Similar

Familiar

Family

Realities

Related

Core

Heart

Foundation

What is the distance between?

Can we see?

Do we know?