resuscitation

at this pace, i'll be in love with you by September
from the cadence of the seasons change,
it'll smooth on into November
and the yesterdays will spill into
tomorrow's beating heart
and life will receive an unasked for
recharged start

Phosphenes

Every year the branches bloom
a veiny version of paper
Each leaf, a sprout shaped unique:
an origami pleated by the maker.

And in the trees are answers for
the one who chooses to look.
It may not read as easily
as the progression of a book...

but life is like a tree of leaves
and leaves have surface area for a reason
They splay and grow in the light
and come & go from season to season

The veins of leaves are distinct lines
as the leaves resemble sentences.
The hidden answer does not lie between
the senses of one's retinas.

Liverpool, NY

I went home a few weeks ago to visit my father after his back surgery, hang out and play nurse. The conclusion of the long weekend home is that my father is a super hero and no body knows it. He is the quickest surgery healer in the universe. I checked the Guiness Book of World Records and he beat it. Yes, I will not be specific about which world record he beat... I forgot the name... but just believe me. Dad = rock star.

While I was home, I was able to spend some time with old friends. This was a breeze of tranquility for me; a breath of cool mint in my face. Jen and I watched top 25 places in the USA to visit on the Travel Channel and the Grand Tetons of Wyoming won first place! I agree, to an extent.

I also had the privilege to reconnect to my old Academic Support buddy Dan. We were the dorks sprinting through the hallways every day after History class, racing to our lockers. Competitiveness never ends, it seems. I beat him in Shuffleboard with some tipsy LeMoyne guy, whose name I forgot and is not important anyway.

It made me think about home in a different way. It's comfort. It's relief.

For me, that weekend was finding a ladybug land on my hand. I believe that ladybugs are lucky, but luck doesn't just come. It is triggered. It was 5 days of unraveling events of happy coincidences.

It is now two and a half weeks later and the smile hasn't left my face. The memory feels like a next door neighbor; I can knock on his door any day and he'll be there to have a conversation with.

I miss home, but not as a physical place. I miss it as a memory. As a unit of me that is somewhere that I am not. I continually wish my family and friends and loved ones to move to a solid place, or commune, where we can wake up and eat breakfast together every morning. Where I can once again see the pattern of their habits and they can learn the direction that mine have taken in the years that I have been away. We can re-familiarize ourselves with all the nuances of the hearts and minds that mean the most to us. It is a place of us. I miss us.


That was a ramble of the sub-conscious. Now, a few pictures from the Syracuse Airport:





The words that come to mind are:

segregation
delay
bandaged due to damage
unfit to live
compiled
denied
left
lost?

I captured and trapped, then plundered his words...

I asked him what he thought about...
Expanding Circles

he said,
they don't stick around for long enough...
and padded squares unravel
from the quadrant's angry angles.
We have no choice but to steal
the memories and dreams of others;
they're the quilt that keeps
our souls warm at night.

A noontime nap can help.
It is a dose of dozing
and dreams are fireworks:
Brilliant powerful ubiquitous images
and then they are gone
Quick glimpses remain:
A Phosphenes behind our eyelids -
outlines like a bright flashlight
that momentarily blinds.

We accompany the moon's rays
by following her beams' path
as a guide -
a reflection of reality
trapped in the psyche
of the past.

Our hopes, ambitions, fears,
desires and needs...
These are all things like beams
They are seen and they are there
but to say the word
is like shouting a cloud
into cold air.

These puffs of nothing
and everything
at once
terrify and electrify us
They are the very DNA
of our non-physical existence

If we could deduce a system
to capture...
to wrap it up in a blanket of...
a quilt...
or maybe we're always making quilts
when what we need to be making
is bed sheets.

Layers to lay down on
and wash when dirty.

C.H.L

looking to the rafters and the rafters got an answer
but the rafters don't send postcards
or fake magazine exposure photos

the rafters shed some light, but they shed it all night through
they shine it down on everybody -
me, him, her and you
the light, it looks like answers
and it may look like a smile
but I tell ya one thing true,
a smile can be faked from either side

Cedaredge, CO

It's pretty up here!

See :)