Poetry/Prose

Now, Decide

photo credit: mine

photo credit: mine

Right now is a live wire.

You may think only something (maybe boring, maybe not, but limited by what you are exposed to) is happening.

When really everything is, now.

From the outside to sit still may seem pointless–but it is in doing this that we boil ourselves down to nothing and feel everything at once.

A massive speck, sitting there.

You might be in a little room with just yourself yet you know a whale is traversing the sea, a baby is being born, someone is digging through garbage, a businessman is clinking a glass over a million-dollar deal and you sit there and just know.

And on and on and on.

It’s electric, and you have so many options, how to perceive, right now.

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Poetry/Prose

Stranger (A Winter’s Night, Upper East Side)

Talk

Wondering

Wandering

Exchanging

What sisters do

In the soft

Hectic light

Of the bar’s edge

Coats draped

Constant movement

Drafty door

Shoulders shrugged

Eyes darted

Silently screamed

Somebody shut it

Reds

Whites

Blues

Observations

Flighty neighbors

Found their tables

Some lady left

And he landed

Plugged his eyes

Two people down

Into my face

Distraction

Wandering

Exchanging

What strangers do

In the soft

Hectic light

Of the bar’s edge

She asked me

What’s happening?

I replied:

Tell you later

Turned my fork

Pretending

To listen

To eat

To think

Of anything

But finally turning

To the pull

Of his eyes

For a second

We saw everything

Haunting us

I turned away

Looked down

Adjusted my shirt

My sister shifted

Cracked a joke

Unrelated

We laughed

Bruised his ego

Split the bill

Closed our coats

We knew

They were no match

For such cold air

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Poetry/Prose, Yoga & Spiritual

Is it … Desire?

My cat, Pasha--image and editing: mine

My cat, Pasha–image and editing: mine

Was looking at my cat’s fur, as I do often

How perfectly it grows

Most people think about how annoying its shedding is

I guess I like to think of how it grows

Where it comes from

 

There’s something so elegant about cats

Inspiring if you watch them

The way they move

Their very structure

Springy joints

Powerful, understated muscles

This fur

The way it lines his face

The tiny, short hairs growing along his nose

 

And I wonder and wonder

What makes this fur grow?

What holds all of the cells of his fur together?

What commands the molecules that join to make the cells?

What?

 

Those molecules, those atoms, they can do whatever they want

But something commands them, to become, his fur

 

And then I start to think, about everything, this way

What holds anything together?

Is it …

 

What if it was, desire

What if I sit here and type

Because of desire?

 

The two cells that started what I am

They were held together by something

Their molecules

 

The molecules, the atoms

That could be doing whatever they want

Somehow, they come together

To do something very specific

 

Scientists will laugh at me now

DNA child, it’s DNA

But with this mind of a child

I will continue ceaselessly

As if it were a matter of my favorite toy

On the shelf

 

The answers

Like that toy

Will never satisfy

As much as inspire

More and more

Questions

More and more looking

At more and more toys

More and more answers

That never complete

This … desire?

 

I’m going to keep on asking

Like the scientists do, too

Because maybe I’m not just a child

Maybe I am one of them

Maybe we all can be

 

What brings that DNA together?

What commands those molecules?

What is it?

 

Look at anything around you

Ask yourself–what is it?

 

Whatever it is, you are a product of it

So am I

 

And if it’s desire, shouldn’t we tune into it?

I mean, if you do something you don’t desire

Aren’t you going against it?

 

If two people don’t share a desire

It is incomplete

Nothing will hold together

It will break apart

 

If someone stalks you

You will ask the police to come

You will tell the person to fuck off

A million times

Even if their molecules

Construct an ego

That won’t listen

 

You are part of this desire matrix

Telling molecules what to do

Your molecules

Someone else’s

 

The configuration we are discussing now

My fingers and your mind

As you read this

There is a command of molecules, atoms

 

The electric attention of your mind

If a video can travel over invisible space and time

To reach your phone

Why can’t desire bring this message to your mind?

And your mind to draw its own conclusions?

 

I’m not convinced

Never convinced

And if you read my stuff you know

I don’t believe anything

So that I can study everything

 

And today, I wonder

 

What is it?

Is it … desire?

 

 

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Poetry/Prose

Inventing a Stranger (two assignments)

During a creativity workshop I recently attended, we were instructed to study a stranger at a cafe or restaurant. Here is mine:

IMG_5100

Image/editing credit: mine; subject at a favorite spot in Barcelona

Exercise 1: We were to look at our subject and imagine their body telling us a brief story about itself, as follows:

There was a time when I was very naive. The world was soft, and not much penetrated my skin. But then it all started. A fall down the stairs here, a trip along the sidewalk there … a food allergy, a motorcycle accident, a half-dozen surgeries.

There was a time when I didn’t understand the importance of all of my parts. Now, I do.

Exercise 2: We then were to invent a soul for this person, and give it a voice, as follows:

I’m a tender, open guy. But as you can imagine, life isn’t always so keen on my type. Even of women, it demands toughness–a ‘get over it’ kind of mentality.

I was a loner at school … luckily, I was not really hankering to integrate with other boys. Girls, on the other hand, always seemed to want to integrate with me.

Indeed, in many cases, what many men begged to have, for me came very easily.

Still, as I aged, I wanted to know what this tough guy gig was all about. I wanted to test myself, my masculine side. So I bought a motorcycle. It was love at first ride … a love that lasted, as many stories go, until I found myself flying 10 feet in the air, landing on my head.

Six surgeries and unspeakable bouts of pain later, I understood why cyclers were considered tough–the types who fought many battles in past lives.

I also knew I wasn’t one of them.

I must have been a scribe or horse tender. But I was hardly–at least in recent past incarnations–a man on a sword-based mission.

Nevertheless, I still needed to feel protected and strong inside myself, so I got into tattoos–designs with a bit of simple class and enough weight to say “keep out unless invited,” i.e., “no trespassing.”

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Poetry/Prose, Yoga & Spiritual

For the Love of the Unreal

Set the phone on the bedstand

You vanished

Folded into covers
So did I; into dreams

What is real?

Are these thoughts …

… happening?

Souls slip
In and out of bodies
In and out of time

On status-symbol,
Fake,
Antique,
Invisible,
Imagined,
Watches

Vocals

“Hello.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Imaginations

“When will I see you again?”

Of course

“Tomorrow!”

Tomorrow?

Memories
Decadent desserts
On TV shows
Commanded by
Red-faced

Master chefs

Screaming
In the shadows

Massive hourglass

Spinning infinitely

Strung cherry
Drooped, dropped

Heavily perched
On sugar-laden cream
The last touch

First member
Down screamer’s hatch

Vanishes

What remains

Is all that’s real

Nothing else exists.

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