Containers of Time & The Death of a Blog

Poetry can be a dead end, but if it speaks of eternity and love in words

on the tongue a treasure, and I think of sea gulls and all those birds

we’ve seen as recurring symbols- the birds keep on reiterating, Momma, a gull,

a crow, a goose, a turkey- certain symbols keep on reiterating, over

and over again- and it is all about never finding enough time to spend on

love and kindness

and we had that last estate sale which we did not know then would be the

last or our last meal out after a day of tests and doctors, and

now the poetry is expanding- some are turning into paintings as

well as the day rises or the night ends or daybreaks and nightcaps.

Working on next collection of poetry- which will launch a new

site as this blog has expired, but shall remain cybernetically

alive beyond even its death- a true ktistec blog machine

eternity- entitled “The Island Field Museum or

Prehistoric Cemetery Trips or

Small mammals on a great blue dot spinning

’round… Mandy and I will debate these and

other titles well into

the night and maybe even

into the morning.

Not asleep yet, just sitting here opening up

my mind, and taking in all the signs that

keep on repeating:

1. a lone gull on a line of empty pier posts

2. a new dinosaur- Baryonyx Walkeri discovered by a plumber in 1983

3. a black hole scary story in the dark

4. “Deep Hole to Probe Big Fault”- starring french campers & hijinks

involving stolen firewood- file under beach/comedy

5. two gulls on a perfect soul perch

6. wind surfing in farmlane puddles with boats made of leafs-

what craft they art!

7. Carolina wrens will predict a mild winter this year?

8. a boat from Christ’s time washes ashore long ago

9. sleepy squirrel blues summer sales

10. ?

11. Thoughts on the images & symbols the keep on reiterating- over and over again.

And. This blog is dead, but as in all things a rebirth will follow as I will be launching a a new blog- and those links will go:

0. Here

Cybernetic Tongues Tasting Babel– the new poetry blog

 

I thank each and everyone of you for stopping by and reading, and ask that you continue to do so, and keep on reading even more once other blog experiments launch. As always feel free to email me or leave a comment below.

Peace, love, and light. Namaste.

Steam Coming Up Over the Distance

Everything is sort of
slow but all in a rush.
The Spirit of the Earth
and european urban
centers
ancestors
over run
my name,
a Christian would say,
on candy bars and they
found him 4 days later
wading in the
morning sun like
the neck of a cobra.

Nature guessed it was
not the orginally
intended experiment.
No, we’ll make up
the missing
piece- yes, that
portion.

Speaking on the
combustability of
cadmium and voices in
nature- even had mutual
friends- ready to talk
there on the lectern.

The Earthmother drank
wine- in later life
a sacred dreamer-
1881. Some days spent
presenting scientific
findings on the pain
of the Indian, left to
cool in vats. A holy
man of the Oglala
Sioux never made it.
Century eyes half
closed forever we
are all dreaming.
See you again?
Maybe some time.

A Smile of Petals Stroking Handfuls of Sleep

You are sitting open
down huddling on the
Sun
under a fur tree.
Silently you carry spring
limp roots sprouting
stroking bluets
singwishstarworms.
Yes we touch.

I perceive eyes
close/shut.
Heaving breath
equals all the
beautifully frail
sleeping people
touching
trembling.
My soul
forever
understands
the rain.

Candlelight Nightsong

A little wild ray of light
from the dying summer moon
that runs blue through
splendid cities abandoned.
Each and every skull is
pierced with light and
slowly floating away.

As campers we find
our shadow s
leap ing
in the foliage
the golden river glowmurs
our feet outstretched
submerged
feeling the sand.

Angels divine
by the light of
their halo s
as lightning
dangerous ly
strikes.

Lips feel like
streetlights
our fingers
intertwined
like bountiful
bird s nesting-
careless divination
amongst the wild
starlight loveplay-
waiting for a
blueblossom
morning as the
stars all
meltfadeaway.

With dreamy candle eyes
we fall asleep as the
stars float above awake.
And new horizons always
have a face, and the
willows rustle in the
wingflight of a
mockingbird’s
nightsongs.

Night Meditation Poetry Experiment #01 06252012

Listening to
bluebird highwaysongs
tonight-

“Sometimes I get too
sad when drinking-
look at that star
through the hole
in the forest
canopy.”

“It’s the bottom star
in the Big Dipper- the
ladle part.”

“Groovy, I never knew
that at all.”

“Oh, I’m an expert on
the big dipper.”

My favorite picture:
me at ten years old
with the dogs dressed
in my best Pops
impression-
walking in the
wintersnow on
the farm.

Your favorite picture:
me and my sister as
children- dressed up
for some reason- you
love my sunglasses &
blue suit. I am standing
there with my sister
in the side yard.

“How old did I look in that picture?”

“Between eleven & thirteen.”

A new year of new rivers,
a woman jogging
gorgeously in pink-
for a moment she
was Athena- like
that four hundred
pound cyclist
that day between
flying discs, ducks,
and music.

And we beat the watermelonsun
like a drum- it’s ripe- let me
know if my Grandmother was
right.
Always
(every)
days- how many has it in been?
171.
Remember that night in
a parking lot in love
fire’s burning flame
wetsand
and
strawberry
afternoons?

Believe:
blue routes
skymusic
a hawk flying
over a field-
a crow sitting on
a wire eating
a candy bar-
he gets it-
tiger roses
and my
love.

What does fall say
to the ground?

The stranger at your front
door is nature-
a man of constant sorrow
or
a madman on the boat
in a storm.

With you it is always a
a burning torch kind of light-
and there are rats on the
flood, vampires, and
always honest men
imagining morning.

 

Another Plastic Bird Day

It was when Mother Bridge
took away (the) Alice’s loathing,
but everywhere out front
such a sight
did it not grin
and stop as if to say-
I will cooperate because
I’m selfish.

Little Water
said
“I’m going to shake
this place
belonging to manicures,
government,
fair sessions.”

Teeth make right
long numbers
mention a great
anything
or nothing at
all.