Clouds and Trees

"Nothing ever goes away enough or arrives enough,/ and I want to cry when I think of my heart,/ muscle pounding in muscle, greedy always for joy." – 'A Warning', Eric Anderson

Month: March, 2009

Pranava

the world was birthed
at the idle imaginations
of a man in a train station
and as he inhaled
music exploded from the masonry

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Friday

I keep avoiding sleep
because I’m nervous
I’ll miss something real
which makes me tired
so tired
of being awake

Cognition

I could not tell
if I had wiped myself clean
not this time
answered the conscience
that I am accustomed to hiding behind
the future is bright
and I may be blind
but every passing moment
is another chance to squeeze from me
a drop of glamour
a breath of indecision
an end to all the things
you once considered whole

Re-arrival

I cannot tell
if I am blinded by lights
or simply lost within myself
As I wake to ringing bells
my lungs scream
as if they haven’t breathed a beat
since I put myself to sleep

Every morning it vexes me
where have I just gone?
where have I just woken from?
to leave the beating of a lonely drum on my chest
and a broken black and white tapestry
in the shadows of my sight

As I lumber from the covers
a bear in his moment of recognition
reconvening with the sun
I burrow for a moment
into my memories of the night
where my eyes rested
before I rushed them from their lids
and I just hope that for the moment
I’m still alive

Repose

If you were lucky in this life
you would find yourself in flowers
and by tossing back your head
be disguised as a butterfly
making time to cut through clouds
resting in the curtain of yourself
tangled in the legs of a chair
where you once sat
when you were big
and laughed along with oblivion
as his scissors cut the hair from your eyes
which fell to settle between the lines
so like the dormant tank
who forgot the colors of his enemies
and is content just to sit
and sigh

Memory

Sometimes my best friend feels like my worst enemy. It’s not up to me to question her motives. The way she stares at the sky makes me wonder what’s hiding behind her eyes. Time seems to cut through her like a knife and to my whims she is blind. We grew up together, sharing secrets at night, lining our lives with the insulation of imagination. Our days were filled with dappled green and blue and white and we never learned about the future. But soon it caught up with us, and we were being taught what it meant to be alive, and where we were supposed to find ourselves in the coming years. She moved through the halls as if it were her calling, and behind her the windows and lockers and clocks and walls seemed to sigh. The boys tore at her and I watched as the years came and took her away. There was no other way for me to understand it. She was stolen away, simple as that. Whether or not it was something she had decided, I had no way of knowing. We were friends, and then one day, without the slightest warning, we were not. That day, I stood on a hill, where we had once slept side by side, staring at the sun and painting with our eyes, and I wondered to myself if that’s what happens to the past. It seems that the more we love a memory, the more we lose our hold on them. And as she slipped from my mind, my best friend, who had broken my heart every day all these years, I lay down on the hill, and forgot.

Lifetime

Time your arrival
because the future
isn’t what it used to be
and while you were busy
cutting up your timeline
I could never find
anything good to do

So I’ll blame my lack of energy
on the downturn in reality
whose constant upward thrusts were just a lie
because my watch can’t tell the time anymore
and while matter and energy
are locked in their vicious embrace
I never thought time and space
would be the ones to let me down

So I’ll break this pocket-watch
with my left hand
I’ve changed sides since I found
that relatives are too easy to find
Cross the arrows off your map
we’ve sat down and we’re not going back
to the doldrums of our minds

It really let me down
when I found out you were blind

It’s not a mystery how I revived
my own lack of inner tranquility
It’s just the way I manage to survive
but these explanations are so rationalized

I can’t imagine what it felt like
when you died

But I won’t wait anymore
to wake up on the floor
the windows are too bright for my eyes
and I’ll say goodnight
if it makes you feel better
to believe that in the morning
I’ll be alive
well I certainly won’t die
either way, I’m sure I’ll find you in time

Maya

When I wake I know
I made a decision
to be real today;
to be real tomorrow.
Because the air I breathe
is the air you breathe;
but it’s easy
to believe
in air.

Meditation On Things Gone By

It’s disturbing to think
that the end of the world
had come much too soon
for the dogs on the side of the road
who had lived their entire lives
under the thumb of reality
disquieted by the fear that tomorrow
would be just like today
and that their lack of perspective
on the relativity of time
had made the whole of existence
anything but relevant
and that disappearance
is a symptom of irrelevance