Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Monday, December 29, 2014
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Hoping yours is at least as satisfying and joyful as mine has been, here's an offering I wrote today for whoever might care to read.
A very unlikely series of events brought me here
and it’s equally probable that I know exactly
how this whole cakeshow will turn out-
But I’m grateful that there are skies full of snow right now,
and rain falling from others while the sun blazes down in others
because I’m small and lucky to be here, again,
and small and hopeful to be here again.
I see things as I do, and hope for things I do
and glad I am that I am surrounded by blindingly good people
who make me feel like I’m huge and full of something worthwhile.
And as the wind can blow in all directions at once somewhere
on this blue dot on some edge of this withering cosmos,
my decisions will ripple a wee bit until they disappear
too soon for my hopes and too likely late for my aspirations,
though it’s good to be able to focus on this day.
In the lengthening of sunsets and snowstorms
into the perception of those who see them from where they are,
we can gain from each photon absorbed and neuron fired-
And having grown fond of that place from whence that moment fled,
the inspiration of breath and water and gasses can
potentially course the way between us,
but unless we save a moment for the glass shown darkly
crystalline, transparent and magnifying
though needful of a moment saved and spent in pause between
more than just one.
Within graves strewn across seas, mountains and fertile fields
our own ancestors pray in silence
without inspiration of breath or knowledge of ripples
their bodies from which we sprung are nevertheless still fertile
in blessing and consequence
having given each his or her full measure in love or hatred
In war or a sort of peace within,
for they felt as I do, and hoped as I do
and felt large and full of something worthwhile
as the winds blew and light shone through dark glass,small and hopeful to be here, again.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014
From earlier today, a first draft for sharing at The Granary-
On the lee side of the house,
during a twilight that persists at least four months a year for the past 117 years
where ice forms in lumpy, slick, step-thwarting strata,
through storm after storm, night after night, with drop after drop-
part precipitate from the roof and the sky, part condensate of dew and frost native in the air.
I’ve a barrel on the northwest corner of the house that freezes solid early in the fall
and if I want the flora and fauna nurtured through the spring and summer
I put a sturdy cattle trough heater made for frigid, Wyoming winters atop the ice,
and by the next day, it has melted its way through to any water at the center
a means for life and breath aimed at those wee souls within.
It’s just like that most of the time, round here,
on the lee side of the world, this side of the TV realm, the opposite side of
what some imagine to be simple plenty, blessings and just reward for righteousness or right decision-
It’s funny what happens when ice forms on permafrost earth where no direct sun shines
for months at a time;
We’ll see what pops back green and gold, round March, or April, or even May.
Blizzard and slush, frost and rime, the bright of day and sparks of star and moon in the snow for the
Look outside the glass, take a walk in the air, these are all there is outside now-
ours is a small space between bricks or sticks for the winter
made warm by flame and the souls of family and those dear.
We might remain or even flourish in that timeless sun that enlivens, even in winter;
a means of life and breath for those wee souls within.
a means of life and breath for those wee souls within.
We finally found a new pup to keep Moshe's place.
He's sorta named Sigmund, Sigfried or Sigurd, and we call him Sig, Siggy, or Sigger for short.
I don't think he really cares much, he's just glad to have a place to call home even if it is a crazy, busy place like ours.
He's an absolute peach, by the way...
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Thursday, December 11, 2014
The winter evenings and more time spent inside brings good in that I get to talk with my kids and hear about what they're up to and what they wish to be up to and what they'd like to work towards.
They're good people with dreams and fantastic sensibilities, and I am amazed to be their Pop.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Sunday, November 30, 2014
It;'s been warmer than normal for the past week or so, and the little, light snow has pushed back up the mountain.
The good thing is that usually makes getting christmas trees a little easier, although what snow there was brought out the worst in the out-of-towners as they slipped and slid and skidded dangerously close to anyone and anything not in their cars.
It was great to see the family, as usual, though! Good, solid out-of-towners, they.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Normally annoying objects, situations and arrangements can be sort of beautiful if composed right.
The problem is, though, that when the composition is finished and the photo or painting finished, it just becomes another frustrating mess.
The snow finally happened. Pretty danged light and airy for a first snow, as well.
Everything'll turn out just fine, no matter what we try to or try not to do. That's what I keep telling myself after time with my kids, at least.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Hair thin, eyes dim, skin slack-
constant reminders of time’s insistent metate
Night, day, night, day, and thus
are the bodies of loved ones thrown from howling birth into a furnace of death.
Our constant fever, white-hot;
Much the same when as young life and those whose
feelings are the potency of self are given
to a foreign Christ tiger
who was once trained by mystics and A New Father
and soon dragged asunder by a frightened caste
(Though authority would remain theirs for a few years, only).
Thus the intervening years have served
for all intents
as placemats at authority's table
for their ever more powerful progenitors.
Meanwhile, seeming alone here on this planet, we grow older by the day breathing what air we are allowed.
Our throats are made raw by coughing
and brows moistened by that fever, that oven, and time’s grinder-
we see very little manna from heaven, nor much rain from on high in these days
with God so distant.
(Oh, dear St. Francis, this thirst is slaked only by shallow graves in the womb of our earth!)
Hunger for peace grows every couple of generations
with disgust of rage and battle
as marketing maxims and shredding machines
drive green generations into self-promotional frenzies;
we need much more than groveling prayers and such cathartic supplication-
From whence do these plagues arrive and
To where will we all go?
All things have gone, and so will they go, until
we all dream dreams more full.
So just that is done in a way as genuine as any heavenly ideal
because that is the secret,
and that is the answer.
It is conveyed and practiced complete
with all questions answered and corpses buried,
feet and hands separated to keep them from haunting the living
or perhaps returning for much more
(please know- all secrets told me, I keep close).
And having overflown the steely dews of early mornings,
and having seen the sun rise shedding no real light
to naught but a few pallid, home-grown tomatoes
and high bench grass for ghostly elk,
we hereby freshen with inspiration and communal, deep breaths,
questing deep into night and all other, often far distant lights.
Through a long voyage past some risen Lord
and his disciples,
having brightened the garments of those deprived of
these long emotions
and in compassion for those alone with what is their own,
And, so, beneath rivers,
It is more than just mutual cosmos.
With this soul passing from Damocles’ sword,
habitacíon del silencio, estimado riberas , orillas de cobre, cobrado-
Aqui dentro, en el mar de lo nuestro y lo que sera,
Even the air we breathe will rise
To give account of its use and benefit
with perfect proof of faith, dreams and dread.