Attende Domine
Worms crawl in the ground
all sacred, the ground – and oh why
do I forget to walk on it
Decorative prisms
hang in the window barrier to my
filigree tree with its own ornaments,
wintered sycamore pods
Sparkling wings fling the sky
past its branches
Birdsong garland
cheerful honey to my ears
And the sun put
a rainbow in my husband’s eyes
~ Lady
A child crouched
on the aside of a stream
A burbling parenthesis
in some future
reminiscence
Whimsy flows whistling
with the tinsel of sapling birds
Wet work thinking
he plans in his head paced by breaths
he scrapes
Gray clay hard to obtain
with a stick from the bank
His fat fingers fumble
~ Lady
Core Sample
If I still knew
all I’ve known
I’d no a lot more.
Or maybe yes.
Had past lessons earned
remained learned
a corner I’d have turned.
Or at least have a better guess.
I plot and plow
to get through now
honoring Tao.
And all with which I’m blessed.
But red is not blue
all is not none
zero is not score.
Life is still often a mess.
– Smith, 3.3.2016
sleepwake
Status Report 187
It’s good to have a porpoise in life
helps in having a whale of a time
unless you winnow your minnows.
Sometimes dark takes the mind
getting through gets heavy
gets hard, gets weary
just logical
stuff happens
no happen, no stuff
it goes in cycles
that’s why there’s sleep and wake
night and day
hunger and satiation.
Today is an almost bedtime day
a day of wait to sleep and wake
hoping sleep will wake without.
More pun tomorrow
less sucking bone sorrow
soar more like an arrow.
– Smith, 2.29.2016
wakesleep
lifestack
Status Report 55
You go you go you go you go
you keep on going
living your life
slightly off balance
tilted forward
you keep stepping to stop falling
and you step you step you step you step
until long way tomorrow
is far yesterday
so you go
you keep on going
you go you go you go
you try not to fall.
– Smith, 8.11.2015
Men as beautiful as women
Flash of earring, hair straight as
train rail, reality of an individual’s hand
musing a feather like a fan dance by Martha Graham
entree to walk in the secret garden
of thought, love quest echoing
in canyons, mind calling soul
Some people call it the happiest place on earth,
those who lived in Paradise Valley, Yamosöpö tuviwarai,
before clash of Paiute and Spanish, slave traffic
melding into the fusion of their children
like sand falling from story-telling hands
strange comfort of syncretism
over centuries
~ Lady
Whim steps to garden path
Growth loads jewelweed’s spring
Wood’s xylem shades us
~ Lady
A kneeling person
in a sunken cathedral
haloed by the universe’s concern
like an x marks the spot
Christ on the cross
Knights playing lofty
games of giant chess on the
battlefield of conflicting ideals,
honor and secrets
Live and love
persistent flapping prayer flags,
a Buddhist monk flying, an asexual actor
trailing through bowing flowers kissed by
pursed lips of blowing wind
hugging flow xoxo
Women, too, claiming stakes
not only moon, but sun, too
~ Lady
Ancestors
of part of an agrarian past
holding baskets of now
heirloom produce–
the tomato
and smiling forever
Or in tall, dignified finery
in an ancient hall, kind of slow
and lacking in color
Or in an exhale
let into relaxed
and painless air
sans worry
And there’s us
too often with our calculators
days locked inside brains
Or better sometimes, looking
and listening
All of it, living and past–
Connected
to everything on the backdrop
of the cosmos – deeper and deeper
starry mirror
Us
clumping together
bits of moving dust
in sentient host
~ Lady
Gracias
Roses spilling blooming fountains
blossoming from hand, ribbons dangling down
tokens appreciating life during rites
of life
Where did roses come from? How is it
they are so beautiful, so cultivated?
Did The Universe know they would be
prized and make them, these queens
of flowers?
Or is it just that we decided–an elevation
of taste like chrysanthemums
in Asia?
Birds sing signalling redemption,
this new day, this new season
deliveries of fresh dawns
relentless freshness
And their lungs,
so many varied synrinx whistles
warbling signature songs through
music box throats–
What shape the key but
a kind of sheer permeating cheer?
~ Lady