Enigmatic Succubus (Part II) by Mike Glover

Moonrise Poem by Mike Glover
Enigmatic Succubus (Part II)
Look! It’s the moon!” I said as I dug my toes into the dark shadows in the sand.
“It’s going to be up soon. I can see it’s glow beginning on the horizon.”
“It happened last night too, and it will tomorrow, and yet, each night, you are amazed?” She asked.
The coyotes barked and trilled insanely in the warm California night.
A scorpion, like an animated shard of glass, crept from beneath a twig at my side. I watched it as it melted in and out of starlight, moved along the sand beside my leg, explored my right heel with an awkward, accidental bump of a pincher, then vanished into the darkness alone,
​El escorpión es el no tu amigo mi amor,” she whispered.
“I know that.” I said.
“These damned dogs have followed me from New Mexico!” I exclaimed. “Listen to them, out there screaming. That’s all they do……is scream.” I was speaking of coyotes. I’ve always hated the sound of them in the night.
“What you call screaming is only a beckoning,” she told me. “Why does it threaten you to be called?”
“I don’t speak their language,” I said.
“Sure you do,” she replied. “They speak the language of loneliness in the night. Surely this is a language you understand well….no?”
“Has no sido solo toda tu vida mi pequeña Virgen?”
“I don’t know….maybe….probably, maybe not,” I replied.
“What happened to all those years ago?” I asked her. When we were driving through a Georgia swamp with the moon overhead and a lifetime before us and you promised me that everything was going to be alright….always?”
“Yes?”
Well, it hasn’t been “allright always”…..in fact….it got pretty screwed up several times….no, MANY times along the way!”
“Yes?”
“What do you mean yes?” I asked.
​”Mira, está la luna,” she said.
“I know.” I whispered back. “It’s beautiful.”
“So what is it you want to know?” She finally asked. “Why the drama and the poor boy lost in the desert for the night without his blanket bit? You don’t think the moon has seen this story before pobrecito?”
“There have been broken hearts,”I told her, LOTS of broken hearts.”
“Si.” She said.
“There have been deaths…there has just been a lot of STUFF!” I told her.” I’ve fucked up a lot of stuff over the years. A lot of it I’ve often wished I could take back now, but I can’t.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I can take it back?” I asked.
“Of course not you silly one, no more than you can catch the scorpion that was here earlier. It is gone. It will never in all it’s life, come back to you again. You can spend the rest of your life looking for it if you want to do something so stupid but you will never see it again.”
“There ought to be something to say.” I finally said after hours had passed and the moon was edging out of the night toward a ridge of black, broken teeth on the western horizon.
“For you there is always something to say.” She said. “But there is nothing that words could ever contain that they haven’t already held and been emptied of….is there?” She asked. “Yet each time they are emptied you cannot be still until you have filled them again….then you are still not still!”
Then she left again while I was trying to figure this last one out. I heard her voice on the wind as I saw dawn creeping into the east….
“por cierto, los perros no te siguen, que les trajo con usted mi amor!”
“The dogs didn’t follow you, you brought them with you love!”
“How could you say that?”
“y todavía hablas!”

Solstice Neolithic by Mike Glover

Solstice Neolithic by Mike Glover
Solstice Neolithic by Mike Glover

 


fire glows, orange embers
  fixed points in sturdy earthen ice and clay,
  All cattle slaughtered, seeds in storage, an inventory
taken, registered…
  in the psychic web of genetic memory
  weighing time against itself. Absent,
the paltry fickle gods of future races, distraction
  born of comfort and idleness
  the many faces of death are stripped away, there is
  only lack, and the fear thereof
  measured mercilessly by the creep of freeze and
thaw. On pre
Galilean oracle the spectral procession
  moves predictably across the pigment and scratches in
stone
  angled light, odd precision signals
  a fixed point in the cycle of celestial synchronicity
  where hope returns.
                                                                  —Mike Glover

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The Feather Story by Mike Glover

feather story

 

I had a nice walk alone on the beach today. I needed it. Well, I wasn’t “alone” alone. There were probably 200 people on the beach with me. I was just by myself…and that was totally OK.
    As usual lately when I am doing a walking meditation there I am “talking” in my head with the angels and testing myself to see if I am able to then retreat from my internal dialog and be still enough to actually hear the replies. This can be very challenging sometimes, nearly impossible…but it seems to be easier for me there than anywhere else i’ve ever been.
    Here is a sample of the conversation today….
        Question: “How far should I walk?”
Answer: “One step at a time.”
“No, I mean how FAR?”
Answer: “I heard you.”
    So I just began walking at the edge of the surf from the pier to the harbor jetty that I guess is oh…about a mile away. As I walked I began to notice incredible detail in every small object. Even in every bead of sunlight on each droplet of every breaking wave….every grain of sand…every fragment of shell and rock….and the horizon and sea and immensity of it all… infinitely big and small all at once. I became completely aware that I really do exist, somewhere on a spectrum between the two. I realized how full of gratitude I suddenly was because when I asked where on this continuum I existed the answer that came to me was right in the center of it and I thought that was kind of cool. .
    “Find a feather,” I was told.
    I LOVE finding feathers! It’s always, for some reason, a very spiritual thing for me.
    I always have a hard time staying completely out of the water at the beach, no matter how cold it is. As usual, before long I was walking in the surf and waves were rolling in at knee level wetting the bottoms of my cargo shorts.
    “You know you’ve got pockets full of stuff Mike. Are you trying to screw up again so you can look like a dumbass and feel sorry for yourself?”
My answer: “Not really?”
    So I walked back to the edge again and continued on in the sand keeping my eye out for the feather.
    At one point while looking out to the horizon I remembered a T.V. show I watched the other night on the science channel about galaxies and the universe. “They’re REALLY out there,” I thought….billions of them.”
Answer: “They are right here too…in every grain of sand…in each one of these souls around you as well. No two are alike. You are ALL unique…your own special galaxy.”
    “Thank you for showing me that.”
Answer: “You all already know it in your own unique way. It is a knowledge that comes with being. You just forget it while you are being.”
    “There aren’t any feathers out here today.”
Answer: “There are seagulls everywhere.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean they are dropping any feathers for me today does it?”
Answer: “Not necessarily… but you never know….that is why you are looking.”
    As I walked further along it started to occur to me that the water wasn’t really THAT cold…I mean for November. Theoretically, I could still take a plunge easily without needing a wetsuit. After much back and forth I finally convinced myself to do it. I dropped my sandals down on the dry sand just above the wet line even though I actually DO know better than that. I pulled my sweatshirt off and peeled my shorts off until I was down to a T-shirt and trunks. As I went to set my watch down on the pile I realized….THERE…was a single feather in the sand beside it all! A black one….about four inches long…totally out of place….the only one of it’s kind! It definitely didn’t come from any of the gulls around. As usual I felt instantly favored.
    I waded out and dove into the breakers feeling really JAZZED! I was actually DOING IT man! I was talking to ANGELS….and they were actually talking BACK!
    When I had had enough of the chilly water and I turned to wade out my attention was drawn to my pile of clothes on the sand about twenty or thirty yards in from me.
    “Wow, I really didn’t think very hard about dropping my stuff further up did I? Finding that feather distracted me I guess. Anyway, thank you for keeping them dry.”
Answer: The moment I thought this I watched a single wave, a rogue, the first and ONLY one so far to make it up that high, engulf my whole pile of junk and then slowly attempt to drag it all slowly out to sea with the back flow.
    As I figured out how I was going to transport my now soggy and heavy clothing all the way back up the beach to the trunk of my car I couldn’t help worrying a bit about a few things…cell phone…watch…Lexus key. They would all turn out to be OK….I guess they weren’t in the water that long. I also had the unmistakable impression that I had just become a source of great amusement for unseen spiritual forces and this annoyed me. I expect a little more from these guys!
    “What was the frigging purpose of all this?” I asked
    Answer: If you could find that weird feather maybe there’s hope for your sense of humor on the way back. After all, it’s a LONG walk!”
    Cute, very cute.
    Don’t ever expect me to fall for THAT one again!

 

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