like inhalation-exhalation in a day
the eternals
breathing
an accomplishment
that mostly our conscious selves
have nothing to
do with
which
is good
or we’d suffocate by distraction
God bless autonomics
though
they were God’s idea in the first place
like
species diversity that course through
the multiplicity of kinds of
media on and of
the Earth
on
or in land
above
below the water
in the sky and as a by the way to feed
our inspirations out of
flying
and then in the vaporous places between
and
who knows maybe dimensions
too
our own multiverse
an interplay of quanta differences
could be helped
by
canalwork of blackholes
(all
sizes)
all of which to say
we might barely know the wonders layered
large or
infinitesimal that sounds close to
infinity
an eternity of
animated
animating choices if
well
fourteen billion years or so
[from the window]
yellow on the trunk
leaves dark green in shade by blue
angled panes look black
there is some green wind
behind it all that is blue
ether wanderland
something old or new
borrowed and the something blue
quasi una fantasia
thinking summer’s not
so bad
until dust and heat
blow in from the street
and I wish for cold of fall
and
could it come
by miracle
tomorrow
and better still tonight
I have some plans that hot
are melting like the water on
the witch
who
ironically has asked before how about
a little fire
well
it’s not bad in that
I am not burning
with flames
anyway
but still I’d like a similar distinction
to the comedy
if sardonic
in that
this one is not for burning
(The Lady’s Not for Burning by Christopher Fry)
things that don’t matter
melted ice cream
if you can get some
or
it’s only on the sides
with firm-enough substance
in
the middle
yelling
unless it’s about traffic
and the thing that’s big and stumbling
uncontrolled in
your way
war
except that the effects are
hyper-
real
as they are horrifying
institutions that grow beyond
their purpose
to serve and instead require if not
demand
serving of them
a wilted flower that matters
but that as detritus
may
feed the next generation
from
the Earth
things that speak to some kind
of annihilation that
be purposed
like the wilting
or
without decent aim
like
the warring
effects to the side
I’m hungry but not hungry
and I try failingly
not
to eat for boredom
but the medication gets
to me
and my digestive systems cries
unfun and
something like how dare you
quaint salvation
(Sunday or Saturday or Friday or another)
today’s for God
but
then
distractions of the devil
ah
we didn’t think so sly
to feed excess as the virtue
thus quietly destroying
or to render
quaint
virtue by its sponsor
truth
which is not
to say
the sabbath should be punishing
quite contrary
the day is for the positives
of
rest for
re-knitting of one’s own
plus
good for sharing
easy play
reflection on
the life one wants
the lives we all
want
a grip
I write in the dark
I guess
I think it’s less distracting
but
(the teacher
shudders)
I have the TV on
and must confess that’s
how I’ve done
a
lifetime of homework
though now the noise and images
are balancing
tinnitus
with insanity
too late
to get the condition
well
impairment
to hope for adaptation
so my daily invitation to go
mad
and trying to create as an alternative
though I hear
craziness might be
required
by great tradition
for
the art
some progress
how much time is left
and
how shall it go
the challenges accumulating
the ones
overcome
the others that add hellish
layers
to
the shell of
consciousness
free movement through
and
through
and when the crises go inside
as if to stay
and years go by
and
breathing’s labored in
its ways
and also all that means
so time
gets harder to go through
much
less command
while maybe years are lessons
that so much control
is either
an illusion or
best kept by someone
from
the start
wherever
and
yes
divine always
the first noel
(Christmas in July)
the angel did not say
but God
to God
and the host
let’s make things
and
by things that must be good
and so the days for
and in
the rings of creation
and all moves in orbits
of creation
the first song
imbued with sacredness
being sung
by
the sacred
source with perhaps more
supernal voices
joining
then comes the new age of noel
the second song to
sing
that after so much time
of sad and tired revolution
more like
a civil war within oneself
drawn
into partisanship
there should be hope for peace
and God
to God will buy that
for you
so we might have purchased
ransomed
dealings with the devil
freedom purchased
like our own
created
created once again
as if Eden recalled
the angel with the sword
finally
permitted to stand
down
then we
as prophesied
might rise
c l couch
photo by Geronimo Giqueaux on Unsplash
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