Note 1
I guess, I’ll try –
like some hermits,
looking out my cave, seeing the light change
and noticing the silence had thawed slightly –
in internment taken thoughts and thrown them
again and again away from myself
again and again against the wall,
and those that didn’t break, (squishy steelies),
softened and were made to bounce back, so,
sending limitless missiles of indefinite purpose
fletching the words, flex
and fling your bleeding javelins –
for what it’s worth, this impulse –
to speak.
Joyful
Still thinking about joy.
Like a puzzle. Or math.
Semi-instinctual.
Stutter or a dance.
Struggle simplifies: strength is gentleness.
Surrender suggests, our natural state is bliss.
Morning demo. Ended up liking the noise. GarageBand for iPad with Apogee MiC on Morris guitar. Written 11-12-12, recorded 11-16-12.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Oh Lord, you won’t catch me crying.
I keep you in my heart.
Oh Lord, you won’t see me backsliding.
I keep you in my heart.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Oh Lord, please keep close our departed.
We keep them in our hearts.
Oh Lord, please watch over our progress.
We keep you in our hearts.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
And there’ll be joy through the darkness.
And there’ll be joy through the dawn.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Joyful, joyful, may we be joyful.
Mira
Mira means look, look because the beautiful thing will only last a moment, or it might return any second. Mira is a star with two hearts in one body, and I wonder if they were born like that, or some other kind of especially lucky. Someone told me it sounds like searching. To me it’s also something I found while walking in place.
Sugar, let me show you something shiny and new –
the bud that struggled as come full bloom.
I feel the sun coming up through you –
the bud that struggled has come full bloom.
My joy goes out flowing
My joy goes out flowing,
into the streets down going
dripping like paint onto sidewalks.
Color and noise go singing.
My joy goes out flowing
achingly at midnight
in breathless gratitude
in glad tears; water blesses;
blinding realization; this
really is happening,
the waking dream,
the secret I can’t tell.
Your joy goes out flowing
in your words and laughter,
cups of tea and coffee – sweet
mocha, making babies, marking
years with friends and revolutions,
mocking idols and building
temples to time in the tide;
your joy lights the world.
Sing out! You virgin princesses,
to your smiling handsome beaux.
You hard working human,
steady of hand and purpose,
you striking a name into history,
to those living the good death
and the artisans of life, mes flâneurs,
mon magicien des mots, et tous vos fleurs,
and the listeners through the crack in the wall,
battling through time to learn our language,
and you mothers and will be mothers,
the chimera and the faithful father,
the yet birthless,
and the nation of the dead –
sing out! Your love
is the sun rising through darkness
and its ecstatic departure to the west –
is the tumultuous triumph playing
day and night through sumptuous air –
is true love and the beautiful truth,
the soul standing upright in naked glory –
is the first miracle and last hope,
the magic pulsing through the world –
is the meter of my joy outgoing
down flowing to the streets of Los Angeles –
(this small moment of dreamy wakefulness
guesses, if I didn’t know better, swears
that all things shall be whole. The pieces
of the tower torn to all corners reassemble:
glass remolding
whispers like fairy feet)
it’s only life, and life is sweet.
Jesus and the Deep Fat Fryer
With little, the many will feed.
Thank God, we got the wine.
Jesus brought a deep fat fryer
to the party, where everybody’s
done working, call it resting, talking
about getting by and the high
cost of living: whose body
in the honest bread is
sending visions; it
feeds the mind
(the soul follows)
out of its hibernating
wilderness
into its limitlessness –
Jesus’s in the kitchen,
kickin’ it,
like you do
loving up a meal.
A kind lady with
love in her eyes
is playing guitar,
and nobody’s got no hang ups,
but somehow everybody’s cool.
There will be only truthful kisses tonight,
and tomorrow and tomorrow – whatever
we have sits like a bubble between
our lips – so, baby, maybe, it’s
least remarkable of all miracles,
complicated but real:
no need to be afraid.
There really is enough
to feed every gnawing hunger,
soothe all that festers, bless
and lesson. The party’s over.
Jesus and his lady went home
with the fryer, leaving oil traces
and lots of leftovers to go round.
Read about Jesus Toast.
what is happiness
ringing of a single grain of sand
on a perfectly smooth glass baby ass
hyperbole of gravity and drain pool,
sliding down the question of when
or where and again and what clothes;
what did you eat and the purple grapes
plump perfect going aged in refrigerator;
I heard that Disney’ll walk again, like many
other dictators and living in the ministry
of love and truth the edges on principle
wilts invisible invincible words and lonely
bite: the hardest part is seeing you never loved
at all. When words have no meaning, the hardest
part is seeing the lies years after you told them, and
make no doubt you told them all
the truth of who you are sucking the marrow
sucking the tide the ride the feet the sharks and skates –
you can’t avoid the question and facing round the smoldering musket
looks you up and down and says, you never loved, you never
loved at all. The hardest part is realizing the swords
as the fall with a clatter on the candlelit hall
well worn trenches lesson blessing
the best part is realizing,
you never loved
before.
happy
mad woman! ahem
BANGING at the keys agin,
issue, DRUNK? or issue,
happy,
to be alive. Tell me!
Brothers and sisters,
are you happy to be
-who are you
-what you’re doing
-with the person you’re with
-leaving more than you take
-living this sorry life
for everything it’s worth.
Hallelujiah! Fernet Branca
will kill who you are will cure what ails..
Sometimes I think these headaches
are DRIVING me toward liberation,
abstraction, anonymity, dumb
skinny HAPPY, say haha, ’cause,
ya KNOW, laughter is
the best medicine. So I’m
LAUGHING
haha!
at this crazy spirit path –
the corn path, the vision..
The walk among the gods –
it’s all this! And maybe,
it’s a secret I can’t keep
or amnt ‘sposed to.. You
tell me: are you HAPPY?
In this crazy life? What
kinda role, didja write
this morning, when the
day was fresh and empty?
mindofvero 