I sit with pen
Open Third Eye
Let go this “my”
And let loose
My mind
From pre-meditated
Preoccupation
Lose the I
Let go desires
Open up your ears
To the rhythm
And pace
That surrounds you
As it goes about
Its own business
Pays you
No thought —
Mindfulness
Begins with
Mindlessness
You must empty
The chalice
To receive new
Prophecy
So far The Distance The Atlantic To The Rio Grande
So Long The Time We’ve spent Drifting apart
The Arts We’ve slipped Away the years
Last Grains To come No chance To turn The Glass
Again Until small smiles Renew our Promise for Potential
Songs are to be written By Old Men Yet sung By the Young
What gifts might the distance bring
As we age and sing with growing wisdom
Life’s hard enough
On a wintering Eagle
A war to fight for
Every meal
But when this girl
Gets determined
A brutish male makes
No successful appeal
Stands her frosty
Ground again and again
Until one talon slips in-
to the chest
Of her challenger…
Razor requisite
To back away
Assessing mortal
Potential of this
Violent affair
To our mother,
We must most humbly apologize
We have been bad children. You have provided for us all these good years.
And, we have torn up the
backyard, dug up or
Cut down all the trees;
Stripped out all the copper
Wiring in the house and
Took a crap on your dinner
Table. We’re sorry…hopefully
Our children will treat you better.
PS – Hey, I’m glad at least
One of us is recovering
From the Coronavirus.
Mr. Robins
Takes a bath
He’s not concerned with math
Except perhaps
To count their eggs
Or later how many mouths they’ve fed
But today he’s just getting clean
A deep splash
And shake
Sending water splattering
He takes this
“Bird bath”
Seriously
He pays no mind to you and me.
…
Not until the dog comes out
Does Mr. Robins
Give a shout
No, now that he
Is clean all through
Fly to the nest’s
Alls left to do.
We are the outcomes
of our inputs
limit your sources
stop divergent thinking
mask off your surroundings
and you will collapse into
the feedback loop.
Opening all valves
at once can be overwhelming
when we have time to take it
all in, we can drown
but shut off the flow
and we die of thirst.
A balance is next to impossible
the mechanisms complex and
set to provide for addictive desires
–fear, consume, fear, consume, fear–
that was at least a familiar beat
now only fear fear fear…
The silence blinding
The compass spinning
The purpose transmuting
The desire metamorphic
The future unclear
The sign
It says
“Please stay at Home”
Forget your car
Forget your bones
In their closets
They must stay
All your ambition’s
(Fears) —put away
At least for now
At least today…
——
This first time directive
We can collectively recall
To just do nothing
To sit in our stalls
But these American
Mustangs are getting
Restless
We like to roam
We like it breathless
We just don’t know just what to do
When we’re told to stay home
Until this is through
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing new
These bird’s
songs
These
Poets
This attempt
At some-
thing true
Doesn’t mean
I’ll stop it
Doesn’t mean
You cared
These birds
And this poet
You’ve rarely
Even heard.
But, the song
the song
It carries on
(Even when you
Don’t listen
In your mind)
You
Sing
Along
& We’ve carried
Out our mission.
The geraniums
I brought in to
Stave off frosted night
Red and white
Fireworks
Bursting in the morning light
