Category: Photo/Poem

Bombardment

Bombardment of total sensation,
this coexistence of dissimilars,
emotional jolts in series,
producing utmost bewilderment,
encountering fantasies and
erecting puzzling solutions,
to make sense of the discontinuous flow
that we absorb;
negating any longing
for a life more abundant.

Too much now,
at this moment
between all that came before
and all that will come after.

This She Believes

Today,
I am the product of your inadequacy,
and
I refuse to be a part of anyone else’s.

With determined, immense and weary consternation
I have no juice for your project orientation.

While taking out the trash and washing the dishes
I think about faith and love
and wonder what’s the difference.

And wonder if there is any difference,
And whether it really matters.

Without you
I would go about my day doing different things,
asking myself questions,
like these,
that don’t really matter.

This is today,
like I said,
and tomorrow will be different,
as I have faith in time,
and belief in love.

Of Everyday



Fluctuations of everyday 
fall through the grates
that hold the weight
of heroic quest: 
a sequence of mundane limitations
and responsibilities
checked off
or stacked up
for tomorrow, 

leaving its afterimage
of limitations,
small pleasures,
and being home.

Exuberant Plunge

               Taking an exuberant plunge 
               over the junk nostalgia
               of order,
              doing this, doing that
              with the intimacy of a dog’s breath,
              documenting the change
              in my pocket,
              oblivious to epic ambitions,
              while a yellow flower breaks free
              from the mundane weeds.

January 5, 2020

Not for sure I’m quite here yet, 
spending time, 
wasting time, 
time seduced by fireworks and frills, 
lost, 
nowhere;

distraction not being a place, 
a detour, yes, 
a movement smooth and effortless,
away from place and a time notched in meaning. 

Too bad, 
oh too bad this gong of presence is muffled 
in imagined past, and future projection, 
fueled by unctuous schemes and urgencies’ insistent barbs;
unanchored and drifting, 
in the current of lost, 
the waves of losing: 
celebrations, 
illuminations, 
tactile evidence grounding presence in the world.

Waving the tattered flag of surrender, 
a half-hearted life of neglect:
of discernment of porous beliefs, 
of connections barren and uncultivated, 
sometimes careless, often clueless 
to the ever-changing interdependence,

registering spikes of false confidence,
convinced that
when things go south
it isn’t you.