Monday, December 26, 2016

Tacit Knowledge

The wind is winding through the legs of this
Enameled rocking English white warped old
Large lovely chair I’m creaking on the wood
Rain-waved front wrap-around stained porch. My bliss
Belongs among the woven birds, the cold
Beloved branches, all I always could.

Shall I describe the beauty of my home,
The beauty of my wife, the purpose playing
Across the ground in dances now delaying
The writing of a trickster’s epic tome?
At my shape, age, and size, would I dare roam
And find my origin in all my straying
Off the path bringing opinions delaying
The coloring material in chrome?

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Holy Night

The daytime of the soul is here, delight
In what the darkness brings, the cold-aired night
Invigorating us inside to sight,
To contemplate and grow the inner light,
To transform every is into a might
While making footsteps in the crystal white
Contrasting with the darkness--source of fright
And mystery--in depth we find new height
And challenge good and evil, wrong and right
To challenge us until we can take flight
Beyond acceptance of our certain plight
And in the darkness let our souls be bright.

The depth of darkness helps us find our goal:
Salvation for our ever-growing soul.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Nomos and Physis

A dash of blood and brains upon the stone
In streaks and strokes designed by gravity
Leading down to the broken body, bone
Erupting from the arms, a leg, a knee.

We saw him disappear across the side,
Heedless of all our yells about the drop --
We heard the branches breaking as he died,
We felt the grip of guilt he would not stop.

Two hours down, we now surround his corpse --
We can't respect our fellow rebel's choice
Refusing to obey our voices' warps
And woofs -- and now the wind's the only voice.

We live our lives in anarchy each day,
But that has never mean never obey.

Monday, December 12, 2016

A Facebook Friend Shared This

Oh what do you think you will do
When nothing you read may be true?
This poem is fake--
And for goodness' sake,
Don't share it!  Don't you have a clue?

"Wave Ontology": An Excerpt from "Upon the Sea of Anarchy"

Geography affects the way you view
The world, affects your myths and metaphors.
We live upon the waves, in endless blue,
And that perhaps is why we all love peace
And think our wave-ontology is true.

I know---ontology---a fancy term
For what we think the cosmos is. Release
Yourself from what you think you know, the germ
Of understanding then will sprout within
That nothing we believe is ever firm.

We see the world as waves and flows---we flow
And float and follow nature's course. Begin
From there, with understanding that. I'll show
You what I mean. The cosmos is made up
Of waves that interact, emerge, and grow

From energy through information through
The atoms which make up this very cup
You're drinking from and those which make up you.
My blood flows in my veins in waves, my speech
Arrives to you in waves, all light does, too.

And thus communication comes in waves---
They're more than what arrives upon the beach---
Our social networks, what each of us craves,
Our every bond is formed by waves. Our years
And months and days in rhythmic waves---each paves

The ways that we experience all time
In rhythms which evolved so all appears
To fall in natural patterns which all mime
The orbits of the earth and moon, the spins
Of which are accidents, but which we rhyme.

Saturday, December 10, 2016


You think that you're a mind and body -- two --
But you are wrong. Perhaps instead you think
You're but material and one, but you
Are wrong. Impermanent, you're but a blink.

Whatever you are doing makes the mind-
Set you are in. Whatever posture you
Are in creates the mindset you will find
You to be in. The one is thus the two.

The physical, the mental -- one and two,
Both neither, both -- a fractal of the pair,
A paradox that makes all beauty fair --
This dissipative structure that is you.

Monday, December 5, 2016

Creating Time

Do you hear that? The midnight nothing sounds
That let my mind mull magic into word
And phrase and line until the structure bounds --
Three calls emerge from the wood cuckoo bird.

The spirits speak at hours such as these
When I'm awake -- in sunlight I'm asleep,
But who will let my soul have its release?
The tick-tock of their time is but a creep.

The wind is cool, the stars in patterns light
The pathways of neural wanderings,
Where words awaken souls with warm delight
To break the wooden meanings into songs.

And with a cuckoo call the clouds depart --
The night enfolds me with its welcome heart.