Friday, October 19, 2018

Elemental: A Meditation

Unknown Photographer


After the storm:

Jade. Mint. Olive. Emerald.
How vastly these greens transcend my vision!

And, my vision . . . how infinitely
it pulses to the cadence of Demeter!

The sun glints off a dewy blade of grass.
The light streams in through a sliver of open window.
The air is honeyed with the scent of rose and helianthus.
The crape myrtles dally in the richness of earth and sky.

The fire of life burns vivid, unhurried, idyllic.

I still. 
Quiet, now.

My window—animated with spirit—leans 
into a stray breeze.

I am inside outside.

And, I am sun. And, I am rain. 
And, I am seed. Cracking.
Snapping. Eager to sprout.

Somewhere within this auspicious paradox
lives a certainty that resonates like gold.

Friday, June 22, 2018

Ceremonial

Unknown Artist


This is how I recall it:

A light lunch at my well-loved kitchen table:
crusty bread and baked camembert with
walnuts, rosemary, and honey. Then,
the coy invitation to take dessert outdoors.

Shall we? And, Certainly!
Crème brûlée? And, Unquestionably!

The streets glittered from the light rain,
and travelers came from near and far.

Taking cover beneath a bright umbrella, we spoke
in simple words—but, with what majesty!

Between us: two ramequins of saccharine rapture,
a sweating bottle of Chablis, and the sounds of
the ancient town, mingled with the voice of
Carla Bruni rasping out Enjoy the Silence...
or was it Quelqu'un m'a dit?

June held us in tender folds of silver and gold.
Immersed in our togetherness, I reflected:
Is this a betweenness or a withness?

But, oh, pranks of malleable memory . . .
Anything to lure us back into what once was!

Today, I stand in another June lightsilver and
goldremembering two women on a soft 
afternoon in Lille, and beaming. 

The grass holds tight to the ground, and to
the ten thousand blossoms here for the day. 
The bumble bees quiet and disperse.

A smile parts my lips as, ever so gently, evening
steals in—mild breeze and violet hues—startling 
me with its magnificent proximity. 

The symphony of twilight hums in my ears.
I shut my eyes and raise a glass: 
Santé, ma belle amie!

In this field of memory . . . nostalgia . . . 
wildflowers . . . 
dreams . . .      
I exult in
the enigmatic communion of then and now.



Tuesday, May 22, 2018

A Glimmering Viridescence

Art by Edvard Munch


I awaken from a dream.

I have a question:
How do I negotiate
this non-geometric space

With ardent blends 
of color? There are no sharp 
arrows commanding a direction or route.

I shut my eyes. 
I desire.

Inside,
my breath sighs
through my veins.

Outside,
the vast emptiness 
gathers sunlight and prism.

Profoundly kindled,
I ask: What is it
to exist with no gravity? How
does one endure without anchor?

I am the ubiquitous forest, brimming
with nerve and breathlessness.

In this instant, if
you tear my heart open
you shall find the indomitable sun.
The steadfast earth. The brave leaf unfurling.