Passings—year’s end 2014
When attention snags, then lingers
over what—it cannot tell—then, imagination…
Ah, the teacher…
Ah, the teacher—what’s happening here,
what it is that’s happening
here with this life now—not
what we want to happen,
but slowing enough to question
here and now, to allow
the rest to follow
from this—this, the teacher,
the taught, this the learning carrying
forward this living, here, now.
I don’t know, nor know who
can say how it works
but floodgates, watersheds,
release renewed release,
to create change,
everything again new,
even the old—forever
In your pre-electric island childhood,
the full moon meant
you could play late into the night,
on an island on the Pacific,
in moon light.
In the Sierra, almost two seasons back,
a pretty Ranger told us the glacier we thought
we were seeing was no longer there—only an ice field.
While the former shapes the earth, the latter
simply melts back into it.
Either way, the work continues.
The way it is…
Instead of the much-anticipated clearing trend,
this morning extends a clutch of darkness
into hours expected to unfold in light, even
that thin layered promise of pre-winter.
But as is so often, anticipation disappoints.
For me, the lingering rustle of raindrops
tells all that need be told, in real time—soft patter
on a rain-slick roof consoles, bucket lists fill
with daily delights, and long-term commitments
build around the resonance of heart beats.
After a brief respite, rains return to affirm
the effectiveness of newly applied sealant
around the bathroom ceiling sky light.
Yes ! No more unplanned showers.
Good Spy, Bad Spy
In other news today, it has been confirmed
that officials of the Central Intelligence Agency
misrepresented the effectiveness of certain of its
preferred interrogation techniques.
One esteemed Senator, from the state of Colorado
I believe, characterized these misrepresentations
as lies—to which, in writing, the CIA replied
that it was “dismayed” that it had “failed to meet
its own standard for precision of language,”
and said failure was “unacceptable.”
To wit (if I understand correct): it is unacceptable
to lie and get caught. Now,
far be it from me, admittedly only a poet,
whose precisions are usually a matter of heart—
far be it from me to press matters of such of grave
consequence—but will someone please tell me
what we learn from this kind of “intelligence” ?
And then, it was there,
just there, as always, I knew,
I have known. But, there it was.
Like suddenly noticing the sky.
Resolution…fresh flowers on the altar