Ah, the joys of malingering whilst in the clutches of ennui, dissipation,
Within the labyrinth of heavy soul malaise.
Searching night skies for signs, patterns, questions about mystery and chaos.
The weight of Why like stones piled upon stone
Until mountains loom into oxygen-less heights,
And leave depthless valleys all bathed in earth, air, water and fire.
The kind of things that will only answer us in forgotten languages.
Islands beckon me to come lie on velvet shores and blue silk oceans,
Like a lotus eater, like a starved, half-crazed teenage runaway
Healing by leaving.
A heart that is chalky white with misuse and atrophy,
A heart turned to a pillar of salt, the past always dancing behind me....
Who could resist turning back for a last look?
It is possible to draw a fairly perfect straight line free-handedly.
But to go back over it again and match it stroke-to-stroke,
Is a feat that many say is mathematically impossible.
So even if quantum physics could pull past and present into dual-existence,
And you could actually go back and try to trace over your first line
It could never be as perfect as you had first hoped.
I have walked through ruined churches
That Cromwell destroyed.
And then there are those gaping holes
That once held majesties of the East,
Both carved into stone, bas relief on monumental hope.
What is it about art that makes these men so angry?
I have been witness to live disasters through the miracle of TV.
Spaceships exploding in front of my eyes. Twice.
Clutching my stomach full with my unborn son,
Watching New York and D.C. On That Day.
Hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis,
And so much fire.
But I have given birth, and I have felt the strange light of a total eclipse on my skin and eyes,
I have listened to the wind moan around ancient Roman walls,
I have watched the laborious passing of ships through the Panama Canal sweltering in the heat
I have celebrated New Year’s Eve under the fiery spires of the Parroquia, in San Miguel de Allende,
I have felt unrequited love, and I have turned away love, I have kissed a stranger in Times Square.
Without having caused irreparable damage to my lifeboat I continue the journey toward earth air water and fire.
And keep in mind what the Rock Man says ...
You see what you wanna see,
You hear what you wanna hear ...
The point is, sometimes there is no point.
You gotta be cool, man. Rock solid cool, dig?
