In Memoriam

Do you remember when there was nothing to hear
When silence was silent
Not even the hum of some distant thing
. . .

Synapses speeding
Up in time fleeting they say
You gotta hit the ground bleeding
Before your heart stops beating in your chest
You give it your best or give it a rest
Is this a test or is this our story
To reach for glory before in memoriam
. . .

The world can't go back to the way it was
It never could
It never does
. . .

Cats in Purrrsuit

Kitties on edge

On the ledge

Want to invest in hedge funds

But they got no real funds

So they dress up in suits

In pursuit of jobs in the classifieds

Bonafide cats with street smarts

But no education that’s ok gonna let it slide

Rockin’ the interview

Expandin’ the purrrview

For the recruiter

To hire cats to work on computers

And now they’re commuters

But cats don’t like riding on wheels

They hate how it feels

It makes them hisssterical

It’s a miracle

They make it to work without going berserk

And work forty hours

For the powers that be 

Payin’ their paycheck on payday 

Today is the day they race to the bank 

Cha-ching they be bringing the bling bling

Callin’ up the broker asking her to broker

A deal to ‘steal’ some capital 

It makes no sense at all

That cats are picking up the pace

About face are joining the rat race

To do something else it seems

Sick of being in memes

They can haz more meaning

Being in purrrsuit of their dreams.

When the light is low

I swear when the light is low
I can see noise in the air
The air is the noise
And the noise is the air
Indistinguishable, I breathe it in
And I imagine the static filling my lungs
And what was outside is now inside
Indistinguishable, nothing has changed
In the air, in the character of the air
Except I imagine it has
Changed on an atomic level
The essence of the air, of the noise
Of the movement, of the flow
Of the atoms imaginary and real
When the light is low

In Anticipation of Awe

It's been awhile since I walked aimlessly

through the house silent.

I feel so big next to all of these things

the table the chairs.

They barely respond when I touch them so

and I get so sad.

I booked a trip to the redwood forest

to feel small again.

To touch the living.

Spines

It Is Daylight.
My Eyes Are Black Holes
blinking with fists.

A Draft Of Shadows,
The Essence of Truth
If You Ask Me

NaPoWriMo Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/day-ten-4/

Emptiness is Fullness (a ghazal)

I'm alone and wandering through Nepal tonight

The dry, incense-infused air fills the streets tonight

Temples appear unexpectedly left and right
I thank random Buddha for no rainfall tonight

I become, lost and found, a fool and a teacher
Each step through the night is a page I scrawl tonight

This is the breaking dawn and finale sunset
Existence is within total enthrall tonight

And I, शुन्यता, shout in silence to no one--

I am ready for sleep, once and for all tonight.

A Flower Haiku or maybe a Death Haiku

To think of dying

Is to think of the flower

Plucked for our pleasure

NaPoWriMo Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/day-eight-3/

To Define Ourselves Free

What does it mean to be free.

Is it something the whole can define, 

Or something each of us must define for ourselves.

And in examining ourselves

To search out what makes us feel free, 

is it even possible to put into words the feeling, let alone define.

But if this we don’t define

Again and again for ourselves

And still give the power to others to keep us free, 

How unfree can we be made before we redefine ourselves.

NaPoWriMo Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/day-seven-3/ — a tritina

Beyond the Stars and Stage

I want to go where the real musicians are, the ones who practice day and night, without concert, without smoke and light, without trend and fan, where east meets west, classical sitar and flamenco guitar, staccato rhythmic clapping and Spanish. The musician travels inward, their sound travels outward, travels inward and my mind expands beyond this realm. The physics of it all is baffling. All of these elements moving in different directions as one cohesive experience. Both here and not here. This must be the secret of the universe, forever expanding and contracting, beginning and ending, the music our ever-changing vehicle, the musician our interstellar Uber driver.

This Day Is Not Tangible So Quit Speaking As If It Is (a tanka)

Day is not a day.

Instead a distance travelled 

to come full circle, 

stand face to face with myself 

and laugh at expectation.

So What (a triolet)

So what

I’ll follow wherever your song takes you

along swinging riffs and solo blue

So what

if we get lost and never come back around

as long as you keep blowing that magic sound

So what

I’ll follow wherever your song takes you

“I can’t leave her there all alone surrounded by stone walls.”

I can’t leave her there all alone 

surrounded by stone walls

One could argue she’s not really alone

in her mausoleum

So I’ll think of her fondly

in her tomb apartment building

NaPoWriMo Prompt: https://theswampscribes.wordpress.com/2016/04/02/april-2nd/ — in the form of modern sijo

A Family Portrait

We’re just a bunch, and I mean a bunch

of people swirling and swirling

at different speeds in different directions

and sometimes we get swept up 

in each other’s current, for awhile, we connect on that level 

over coffee under smoke-filled ceilings

and I wonder if they’ll take offense if I crack the window

for a breath of fresh air

or will the sudden change in pressure sweep us all out and alongside the rest of humanity.

NaPoWriMo Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/day-two-3/

A Lune

Eighteenth Century
Vienna
My soul for a wig

NaPoWriMo Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/were-off-to-the-races/

Easter and things that don't belong

Sometimes the sadness of the absence
of what you know is possible
is like Ballads and Blues
and a photo of a wheat field
on a golden day