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MIDSUMMER MIDWIFERY

DEADWOOD EMBERS

SEPTEMBER'S COMING

COSMOPLASTIC GRAPHIC









 
MIDSUMMER MIDWIFERY

the night is wearing away
effacing life
for there is one who is about to slide
into the dark coolness
of an overcast summer night

he is resting
he is without motion
he is laboring
in silence
in a peaceful space
he forgets to breathe

Breathe.
Breathe.

a slight breath comes
very shallow
very short and then
finally rest

she is there with him
in quiet
in sadness
in solitude
in solace
she is there
having gone the distance
there to ease the passing
of his spirit
into the summer night
 

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DEADWOOD EMBERS

 
From deadwood
the flame's greatest incandescence
burns
until the deadwood branches
only momentarily
hold their shapes
Lightness transcends
Form remains
until too light to stand
the deadwood collapses
onto the embers already fallen
creating scenes and dreams
that I recognize
and remember

It's all there
there in the embers' heaped incandescence
in the deadwood's afterglow
Embers as clouds and rocks
reveal the stories
the creation of the universe
the flying hats
the magic bunny
the naked tree
the mystic vortex
black hearts
brilliantly glowing caves
caverns of shadow and light
beckoning
inviting
revealing the truth of deadwood embers
 

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SEPTEMBER'S COMING

Time passes out of time
moves through itself
into a place unknown.
There is no death
just the transformation of ourselves
and the transfiguration of the life force.
Maybe energy is ever created
never destroyed.
Energy
Life
Space
Place
Winter into Spring into Summer into Autumn
sadly called the fall.
September morning
sliding into full day
sliding happily
with bands of brilliance oozing
from the sky colors that paint
an incomparable vision
that soothes the day
into darkness that presents
starlight
moonlight
falling flying matter
of wondrous white light
passing through time
until fizzling away
in sweet slow motion
quiet and far removed.
Time passes into time.
Gases
Solids
Liquids and Light transformative
transformative time
time out of sight.

 
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COSMOPLASTIC GRAPHIC

The rabbit eats the grasses
The coyote eats the rabbit
The black birds eat the coyote's flesh
after the bullets fall.
Everything feeds on everything else.
So, what feeds on us?

What feeds on all the variety
the multiplicity of us?
Are we dishes to choose from?
Are some tastier than others?
Are some sweeter
some tart
some bitter
others beatific
some well done
some still raw
some just right for the having?

We live in a garden
growing with everything else
grasses
trees
roses
cosmos
rows of slender succulent roots
clumps of heady seasonings
some exotic
some essential
And there are cats in the garden
chasing golden grasshoppers
that clack in flight.

There is sun
bright white and warm
in the November sky
There is the breath
the sigh of airs that feed
the garden
and the garden feeds the airs.

Overhead blue sky lingers
while clouds feather the blue dome
with plumes of thin
transparent
vapors
that embrace us as they fan out
from the west horizon.
There is balance
harmony
perfection
in this moment
here in the garden.

Somewhere else
in a far distant burrow
one creature
some say suckled on madness
some say suckled on devotion
runs rampant
and neighboring creatures
call out
Help us
Defend us
from the madman
from the devotion.

A meal is being served up
in that part of the garden
A feast of blood
And now
the menu enlarges
as  bombs, bullets, and gases
gather
There is power
There is random chaos
Is it part of
The rabbit eats the grasses
The coyote eats the rabbit
The  black birds eat the coyote's flesh
after the bullets fall
Everything feeds on everything else?

Whose appetites demand
the taste of war
the charred meat
the shredded flesh
the hearts and brains?
For the satisfaction of whose palate
is the sacrifice made
Loss of life in the garden
is sacrifice
A gift
upon the altar
of those who feed on us
while
The rabbit eats the grasses
The coyote eats the rabbit
The black birds eat the coyote's flesh
after the bullets fall.

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