As I sit here it becomes clear
I need to create an outline
for a poem
that is ready to be written
Funny how a poem
can seem to need an outline,
to mark out everything
it could and would say
i) All That Is
ii) What now is becoming Known
iii) What is no longer necessary
iv) Reversals of figure/ground
Perhaps it is the space
between outline and poem
that I’m really interested in,
the visible reaches between
Wondering, will anyone else
see what I see there/here
as I map out the bridging
between seen and unseen?
Good thing I’m prepared for this step:
my new footwear is designed
for multidirectional levels of grounding
in body/mind/spirit and beyond
I have socks with holes in them,
but wait, these are black holes
and wormholes, as time disintegrates
& even temperature is refigured
Pants are no longer restrictive
nor all they were once worked up to be;
who wears the pants when domination
and control crumbles all around us?
Keep your shirt on (or not) but
find your colors amongst the
rainbow, as well as infrared
and ultra violet ~ all fluid light
Speaking of light, the naked eye
sees so much more than once upon a time,
marrying the inner eye & embarking
together, seeing expansion everywhere
The outline becomes omnidirectional
Just as time becomes No Time
Things are no longer what they seem
It is now easier than ever to Let Go
Tomorrow here in Taos, New Mexico, we will be having our January edition of The Spoken Word Open Mic Series. If you happen to be close enough to join us in person, please do! 🙂
ah na ne ah ne
ah na ne ah ne
ah na ne ah ne
ah na ~~~ ha ha ha
Perhaps not what comes to mind
when I say “facing east”
but I am facing east as I write
I’ve returned to facing east this morning,
within my small abode, mi casita,
within the place my body rests at night
There are three windows facing me,
facing east ~ even from the north
window I also look east
There is an unbroken line formed
by ridges, ancient rock, many footsteps,
& raven calls over ages & millennia
We can think we know of these,
of these ages, of these open wings,
of these breathing hearts
The call of the dove filters in
with the early morning sun fall
certain things are lit just so in the morning light
For me, facing east is just so,
taking in a perspective not quite my own,
but one offering nuances now welcomed wholeheartedly
And for as much as it is worth, I am in my own retrograde it seems
I find the inner landscape (here) filled with my own footprints
once traveled and laid by me to see (now) from this vantage
The gentling calls of the magpie to her mate
or her young & sometimes to me
soften these inner reaches
qua lia mia mo, qua ta te ah mo
qua lia mia mo, qua ta te ah mo
And now hummingbird joins, her wings one of the most
exquisite percussions that sounds, like a long awaited remedy,
breaking up the tightness of the heart, my heart
I say, “I have returned, my friends!”, facing east.
“While tending to the southern fires, I did miss you!”
And we rejoin now bringing calming & homecoming within.
If you have never tried or tested out
the malleability of time and timelines,
I heartily recommend it so. Move within.
This morning, before waking or parting the curtains to welcome the day,
I washed my earlier self, the one with certain struggles & bumps in her road, with a vibrant mix
~ the perfect spectrum of light and tonal vibration to let her know I am with her all the way.
Don’t take my word for it, you too can meet your own selves,
those that now seem long forgotten or destitute in that timeline of Ago.
For we each have such perfection of unique remedy and resolve,
Some of which we can share. And some of which is so precise
and unique to each one of us that it may be for us alone
to steep in, to take in, to sing openly.
[ sing to this moment now ]
This morning, before waking or parting curtains to welcome the day,
I washed my self, the one with certain struggles & bumps in the road,
with a vibrant mix: the perfect spectrum of light & tonal vibration
Letting myself know ~ I am with you all the way.
I am with you all the way ~ facing east.
[This poem is #1 in a series dedicated to revisiting poems that were written by me as part of my participation in a collaborative and experimental poetry blog: IMUNURI.blogspot.com. Aperture was written and first published 31 December 2014.]
These that are things and not things both
They pepper the landscape
The landscape that is so and not so both
I walk amongst them
The I that is not an I after all, yet somehow is
It’s not that I wonder about this apparent conundrum
As in feeling troubled or some kind of loss
Rather it is there or with it that I belong
Nothing of this casts me aside
All things that I am and am not Rest here
Whose favor would I garner
To look upon this any differently
Seeing is a communion after all
That each and every one of us
Has within the very fabric of being
Ultimately there is no such thing as compromise
And yet how often is there a sensation
Of All of This somehow tangled
Around my ankles that I possess
The I that has no counterpart
As we see through this aperture
Closure is a function of clarity
Focus celebrating the visual spectrum
Saturating this field in the unseen
An exposé of brilliance and crystallization
Welcome. Thank you for following the thread that brought you here.
The notion of a virtual blog tour landed here upon being sparked by my dear friend and colleague Daniel Ari, who made the initial suggestion that I might like to participate in such a tour, following his blog tour post (a poet friend and colleague had invited him.) I felt the spark land and since then the question has been did the spark become an ember and did the ember survive? Or perhaps another question might be was it a virtual spark and does it, now, have what it takes to light this contemplative, virtual fire? Perhaps. Shall we see?
What is not a perhaps is the whole-hearted conspirator I find in Daniel Ari, the person, being, and creator afire. I invite you to visit his blog Fights With Poems, as long as you have more than a moment to explore and drop in. Daniel’s projects are a many (writing, publishing, teaching, collective blogging and more), his stretch is broader than most and not confined by his idea of himself, if I can say so. One project of note is his forthcoming book, One Way to Ask, a book of querons, a poetry form of Daniel’s originality, inspiration, and making. For this book, he is collaborating on many levels with artists and other co-conspirators, which has Daniel’s signature of ever-ready-to-remake-oneself with each sitting, writing, and re-versing. It has been my honor and stimulation both to be included in amongst the co-conspirators included in this book. I look forward to the publication of One Way to Ask.
And thank you, Daniel, for inviting me once again into territory that I may not otherwise find myself in if it weren’t for you and our connection! (Another such invitation from Daniel brought numerous years of my participation in his collective blog, IMUNURI. Currently Daniel has 131 submissions there, I have 57, and ten other poets have submitted their works/poems there, as well.)
A photographic interlude as the blog tour continues…
The Virtual Blog Tour comes with these party-c-pant questions (putting on these party pants is one way to participate!)
1) What am I working on?
I don’t know what I am working on until I am working on it. Even then, while I am “working on” something, it is more precisely working me or opening out through me or pondering within this persona/non-persona. It doesn’t seem to be my way or mode (at this time) to know what I am working on. What does come, at times, is some kind of knowing being expressed through words on paper or words being typed on a computer or iPod screen. Question #4 seems to be creeping into #1.
2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Similarly, I am not aware of my poetry and writing being of a specific genre type. If you know otherwise, please let me know! Ha! What comes through as poetry seems to be unique to itself. I will say something that does come to say around this question: the poetry I write comes from or via direct experiencing, an internal voicing or somatic experiencing as the words present themselves. I would not say that I don’t think about what I write, but something like that. It seems to me that I am ready when something seems to come through and have easiness of expression as words in some kind of structure close to what we call a poem. Poems as awareness as felt sense, perhaps.
3) Why do I write what I do?
“Why do I do what I do?” as a question seems to come out of some unseen or unconscious motivation to seek security (or need to know) when security of that kind is simply non-essential. So, for me, there is not an need to answer such a question. The poems ponder enough on their own and simply get written (or not.)
4) How does my writing process work?
There are tastes of this question in the previous answers 1, 2, and 3. What else I might share here is that there is some kind of seeding and then a gestation period and then, perhaps, a kind of birthing in the writing. The writing usually takes my full attention and is something that moves through and I respond in the now. Often there is the anticipation of something before it finds its form as words on paper, mostly as poetry, sometimes as contemplative writing in prose, sometimes in photography or a combination of the aforementioned.
The writing is a kind of direct experience, as in I am present for something as it is felt and expresses as words. The photography, too, is a kind of calling or marking of direct experience and has a numinous quality within it. What gets expressed, conveyed, felt, or sensed through the sharing of these, I also do not know what that might be. It is like breathing for me. Or at least that is how it comes today to write about such things.
And finally, the blog tour may continue in a similar fashion to above, if I have other bloggers to invite for you to check out with blog tour posts of their own. However, I found that I did not have currently active bloggers to invite! So I invited both a poet/artist and a songwriter/musician/poet to start their own blogs such that they could be included with accolades in this Virtual Blog Tour.
Perhaps they will do just that and at least one new blogger will be featured here in short time. I will update this entry with their URL and some of what inspired me to invite them to participate. Perhaps.
I have sometimes written a poem without having to be aware of the writing
You see, the poem aside from its writing or typing is an entity of its
own. It is seen, heard, felt, paused,
And squeezed out from behind the corner of the eye, the eye that is not
One where seeing comes in a whole other spectrum than
The usual one –not one you can manufacture here –one that exists already
It comes of its own accord like twilight or dawn, nothing can stop it or begin it
When you pause in the words, you’ll see a whole shift of light
It can easily be blocked, consciously or unconsciously; but if you let it be, everything takes on a different tone
For that time when things look as they do in between
The poem appears, it comes into its own, and recedes as if it has breath
[those reading and writing access it equally yet different]
It cannot be said even which comes first, the one who reads or what writes
And being is like that, too –am I myself or something else
What moves this now, not such that it is a hall of mirrors
But the something else continuously speaks itself as if I were the pen and paper