Too Much

What can anyone do to conquer the illusion we make each day
out of the smoke rising from incense
like signals we send to God?

Even the most stable among us are anonymous
as we yoke ourselves to a practice,
arch our backs in saline flexibility,
riveted by our taste for the sacred.

Here, with our hearts touching the earth,
let us turn up the volume of our love
and feast on the vision of too much.

Dark Ceiling at 2:17 a.m.

After a night of wrestling flannel
I remember what it was like to explore a dark ceiling,
lines like a jigsaw falling apart,
praying for a guardian to gentle my mind.

Fear was that lonely button at 2:17 a.m.
swinging crazily from a trapeze over my heart.
I was disturbed into being awake and aware of each heated thought.

The eternal was quietly there
to encourage faith in something.

KPI

One more day in the workaday world,
embattled with egos that ooze and command attention,
thunder rumbles on the horizon of each morning coffee.

What I would give for peaceful citrus,
admiring the sun that can only be subdued
by the anticipation of an employment community
lacking lacerations and finding bandages unnecessary.

Here is what vocational environments would rather do:

Command collaboration. Speak softly with respectful tones.
Sense of humor, necessary. Intelligence is expected, not overindulged.
Kindness is a virtue. Kindness is always possible. Have I mentioned kindness?

Hard work is rewarded by gratitude. Innovation
will never draw suspicion by others. Admiration is our (KPI) Key Performance Indicator.

In this place, we are all in it (happily) together.

Angelina's Menu

The waiter probably has it memorized
with just the right pauses
at just the right turns of sauces
and wines that won't disappoint.

We consider the table linens
and the sweating water glasses
and turn on our heels
for the Tea Garden's dim charm.

The fried rice and bean curd are greasy
and the tea bitter. The fortunes are under impressive
but the waitress shares the birthday with my son.

She suddenly becomes one of the family
in a way that Angelina's fine Italian lines
can only be adopted
and not born of endless love.

Threads

Some of these threads that bind us are blue
and measure all the ways we hold tight,
brandishing love and cutting loose the abrupt departures
we are forced to share.

Some of these threads that bind us are silver
like dawn, quavering with the force of the ocean tides,
dancing and full of laughter from the belly
when we forget who we are.

Some of these threads that bind us are violet
and justify our rage in words and healing touch,
sheltering us from the ways the world boils over
when love is forgotten.

Some of these threads that bind us are green
and our favorite color of leaves of grass
onto which we stretch out our bodies to celebrate
before we sleep forever.

Some of these threads are blessings of red and yellow
like the sky just before it falls into blackness,
drifting off like stars and meteors,
when we become worn and dusty
with the musty fibers of God.

Consider the Moon

On a clear night like this
how could you not notice the moon,

steadfast and suspended;
our satellite in the darkness?

If you look closely,
even mindfully,
you might not be blindsided
by her silver sobriety.

Instead of constant confusion
and almost lunacy,
you might find yourself directed,

the wise inner detective
supple and ingeniously curious,

mastering how to classify stars, tombstones,
and other heavy metals

that float into your conscious thought
with no meaning greater
than a train schedule in Paris
or the forecast on the local Vermont radio.

Walking On Water

Under it all,
even with the depths at a distance--
where the ice was clear beneath us
and the augur was sharp and strong,

under it all
we learned to cull the weakness,
swap fear under the bridge
where we were threatened

for a chaste and uncorrupted thought
instead of waiting painfully
for the mind to shuffle
and pace with anxiety of falling
in to the cold below.

Under all the cracking
and frozen anticipation of another lonely day,
we breached the secure understanding of God in the world
and christen ourselves merely human.

Each unsteady step on the wobbling landscape
that glistened like a story of joy,

we forgot again
that walking on water
was never easy.