So here we gather On this bright and Dark day in the Fresh World, to see if there Is a turkey of love Between us– siblings, cousins, lovers, parents, Friends. And there it Is– LOVE– carved out For us in some miracle Since the creation of the Cosmos scuttled us All together on this blue- Green blessing of a planet Quantum journey, accidental Adventure, maybe in another Life we don’t know one another We haven’t stood witness To one another’s joy and Pain. But here, now We are the people we Know and love because Of particles of song shared Between us, and mud Fights on Thanksgivings Long ago, and stories that Have connected us all Bringing us to this Moment– to Gather to Settle softly into miraculous Gratitude. Thank you I love you. Forgive me, I forgive You. I love you. All love.
Art Center. November 2024. Image, my own.
Other Ghosts
So now there are other ghosts The angels of the past have Come to comfort and protect, To bring peace and stability I don’t know how I know, but Others feel it too, they enter They awe, I feel the ancestors In the daily spirals of My existence, the soil of My backyard, the song of The trees and birds in the Ancient ash. Many others feel them, too, and tell me They are near, they are Present. I know that I am Not the only one who has Ever been separated from My alter, my shelter, my Building, my dreams torn For a vision of the future I could not ascribe I’m learning each day That each ancient has Been sent as a guide The present and the Beyond, they’ve become one
Fall-Winter Bridge. November 2024. Image, my own.
One
Of the most powerful Things happened to me And I can both be humane And protect myself against Smiling scoffs, unkind people Who would make a mockery of Pain, I am so glad that I can live My life wild and free, I was Given a second chance at Love, at happiness You too? I will never take that for granted, My joy– that joy will go on to Fill me, myself, my people And all the rivers of song
Community Garden. November 2024. Image, my own.
The “Last” Great Thanksgiving
That’s what the menu read And then they were all gathered In one place—humans—with the Most similar genetic makeup of Any group of sapiens on planet Earth. Siblings. And it was good
Woods– lovely, light, dark, deep. November 2024. Image, my own.
i. Vivace The Body and Brain create a near-constant concerto, Orchestral ensemble that one piece of the body May be tasked with– the soloist, for a moment– The violin of your legs stands in the spotlight Lifting the bow back, striking the perfect legato When you lift each leg to strike the pedal: rising, falling, Rising, falling, in perfect détaché, the synchrony, Breathtaking, a veritable martelé, up and down, Crescendoing, up and down, faster and faster, Staccatos building as you climb that little kicker, Beast of a hill, every note separate and distinct and Purposeful and achingly beautiful, melody in movement
ii. Largo The reality is that the soloist, The part of the brain or body that is on display, is Accompanied by an orchestra of other reactions, Symphony, an entire production of body-brain actors Breath increasing as you crest the top of the climb Then wide, expansive sucks of air through your lungs as you Descend, behind the soloist your legged String instrument, a complex array of bodily musical Tools, exchanges of sensory information via energy, chemicals, Afferent and efferent neural fibers, we know this But to experience it is so much more vivid, vibrant, Actual art an afferent neuron gathering signals from
iii. Adagio The skin like the finely tuned drumhead of the timpani You’re pedaling along at a rapid pace and your Neurons are sending each breeze that crests your Quadricep, each flexion of your fingers as you Reposition your palm to the vibration of your handlebars You begin to really circle, pushing, leaning into the Pedals with more and more force, lifting your Foot up to keep time and pace with the peloton This is where the sensory experience really Begins to take off, you’re in the pace line driving Your muscles pumping with blood, efferent signals, Through the femoral profunda, spiccato of oxygen
iv. Finale Feeding the whole quadricepal system: vastus medialis, Vastus lateralis, vastus intermedius, and rectus femoris Don’t forget the glutes, rich, ringing riot of brain-body orchestration, molto crescendo Coming in hot… finish line, and stop!
Ramón u Cajal, Neuron, Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales
Polyphonic Technicolor Synesthesia
this is how it feels to be in an autumn wood at sunset, the entire mountain set ablaze, a conflagration of color in that warm waning light, each leaf in stark relief to something visually near– brittle topaz bark, white aspen trunk, every
sense housed in neon-rich sculptural portals a magpie cackles from a scrub oak turning amber its wings that look so black in flight reflect a deep maxixe beryl, oceanic opalescent contrast Paul Klee’s Polyphic Setting for White
poets, mostly, long for synesthesia so that they can produce that contrast that catch of the craw between all worlds– senses coming undone in an autumn wood or at the very least they’d like to produce it on the page, certainly the experience
might be so disconcerting as to be horrible but if you could see autumn lanced by a sunset or a taste a technicolor leaf as it fell in a stream of wild wind, maybe if you’re there long enough in the woods, the colors begin to have
a particular flavor, like the brown dry leaves of wyethia amplexicaulis, mule-ears become tiramisu in the mushroom undergrowth they take on a shape in your psyche like a rhombus with the sun setting above the far angle, always forty-five degrees
Michigan City Public Libaray, Michigan City, Illinois. Architect Helmut Jahn, 1977.
Thin
i do not know what it is about now, every- thing just feels papery a little thin around the edges, a little dry and flat
Billings Public Library, Billings, Montana. Will Bruder Architects, 2013.
To Write a Poem
to write a poem is a lot of staring out of eyes through windows
Desert Air Motel, Sanderson, Texas. Built in 1960, restored, 2022.
Send Your Kids Weird Texts
Send your kids weird texts Tell them that you’ll Give them lunch money If, when you are really Old, almost gone, they Will let you run your Papery, age-spotted hand Through the thicket Of their hair Make them pause Question the sanity Of your replies Make them promise So that your five bucks Is paid forward in your Elder years, it’ll be worth it To give them a future Imagination of how Much you will Always love them
Synesthesia as an Image, Public Domain.
Abandon All Solutions
One of my good friends Heard this in a dream Or in a wakened state Where she was contacted By the Universe, So the advice wasn’t really Given directly to me, But it has come to mean Everything
Lawrence Public Library, Lawrence, Kansas. Gould Evans Architects, design John Wilkins, 2014.
Refined + Rugged 