leave a mark
even if it won’t last
in a moment of awe
pause for breath
hear the song of your heart beat
someone after
may erase what you made
we are each one unique
bound by our nature
leave a mark
even if unsteady
maybe in the next storm
it will come tumbling down
leave a mark
even if it’s fragile
your whisper lingers and
I’ll know you were once here
where I’m standing now🪶
early mornings
after midnight or before five a.m.
effort to be still
to listen
worth plenty
though value eludes capture
the moment already passed
yet you know you were
present
briefly
your heart beats steady
even the introvert
self obsessed
can realize an epiphany
tranquil comfort
(and just a wisp of horror)
a blurry picture in a picture
an actor unique in the play of life
perpetually a minor
in an expansive and complex tale🪶
endings
beginnings
what to carry
what to let go
complicate
simplify
shed
layer on
retreat
release
grab a fistful of grateful
hold it close keep it warm
past is past
none returns again
breathe out
breathe in
hold steady all possibility
of the moment you’re in🪶
Were you there, unblinking
to catch the sight
of the pink shoe taking flight
from a hurried woman’s mid step
last Wednesday?
No camera lens preserved it
though there may be others
who return to the smile maker memory
In the moment, scenes
arrange themselves
no director calling
no X cues on any floor
improbable improv unintended
You or I,
privileged serendipitous witness
accept the award with grace
its existence ours to keep, or
so we believe—-
While in the photo we captured
tacked with satisfaction
inside a frame only
a skeleton remains🪶
While I lay restless dreaming
Moon slipped behind the mountain
Still I trust she was there
I am a reliable witness to events past
Therefore—
In the lambent light of this new morning
Remnants of my vivid dreamscape linger
A part of me remains present there
A mime with an indecipherable message
While I sip cinnamon coffee, breathe slow, read words from my morning text
Then read the same line again to embed
Both there and here
Presence and Absence
Which scene is this then and what act
Who’s offstage to feed my forgotten lines
Is the sky out my window the opening
Or the denouement
Is there a pause feature in this plot
I have questions to answers I think you know
You ask
where ‘will you be this time next year‘
While I
look past your shoulder at some shiny thing
Your smile
says ‘I must be patient with her mind‘
I see
hummingbird contemplate a sip of nectar
Your look
repeats the question with another tone
I say
Yes I shall look here deep into my bowl
We know
All that will be is there to know
Hurry your eloquent passion
Time slicing devisor of measures
Breathing’s an act of deliberate intention
Dancers like you touching ground
Leave no trace evidence for eyes
Resting comes soon with practice
A bench to contemplate grace
Warmed by hours in afternoon sunlight
Twilight arrives with patient treasure
Gathered from days of the world
I tune to the sound of wings
Hummingbird suckling geranium in sunlight
I do not like this book I am reading
Grateful for content that distracts
I am sitting in an uncomfortable chair
Obscured by holly leaves
This morning augmented with sculpted sacred stand ins
I dreamed last night of returning
Red flannel shirt faded jeans brown laces ankle boots
I pushed my desk inside lines
Conformity or belonging
A woman’s forever home now inhabited by strangers
I saw old hazel eyes as we were children
Singing the same song
John Lee’s Boom Boom
Right melody wrong lyric
Inhale rhythm resist lure
I am sitting still looking
Metres from maybe inches
I plant these red ones for her
Favourites
She mapped a meticulous design
Imagination Manifest these shapes
I arrive as if for a benefit
She falls from a ladder
Over there where the concrete is so unforgiving
I yield no sadness yet water flows free from these eyes
Presence is
I begin to understand
Or succumb
Krishnamurti on education
A Christening
Watchful watching watcher
After long absence I return
to this terrace
Softness drips from last night’s rain
Birdsong rises from cedars and red maples
Wind sings praise to the floating world
I sit again among fat brown spiders
Still afraid
but it is they who knew me first
itchi-go itchi-e
these present moments
precious fleeting
as are we