Gather the darkness, gather the blankets, the pillow,
your thoughts; allow the roseate paper cut images
come,
wander in conversation,
speak with you.
Allow yourself to
become part of the conversation,
become part of the story,
become part of the
dream.
Attention gets hungry but doesn’t get homesick.
Attention has a center but it has no bounds. It might be the eye of a storm. It certainly has no master but it is quite easily seduced.
It, by nature, is curious and fearless, sometimes fool-hearty and often gets lost.
And there are persons and things that will set traps for Attention with interest.
Attention will gobble up interesting things, sex, money or more attention. Nothing gets your Attention like attention.
Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like and what would happen if my Attention wandered away from me and never came back.
Supposing, one day, it pushed out the screen door and into the night.
It won’t get cold, not even in the coldest night air- but it will ask a bug whether it gets cold.
What if it never came back? Perhaps, because it got lost or perhaps because it found a better home.
And there are people who are so hungry for attention, so it certainly could end up on someone’s plate.
But there, I take comfort in Imagination.
Imagination and Attention are not the same, though they both tend to go off by themselves.
While Attention will look around for something to do, Imagination will build a campfire and feast on some enormous bird.
Attention can easily be fooled or confused; it is Imagination that does the fooling and confusing.
So, I know if my Attention wanders off, it will most likely fall prey to my Imagination and though they may never come home again, at least they are together.
We need to care about each other.
I always believed that my father had a connection with God on High
when he spoke I shook
there was knowledge behind the unfairness and illogic in his words
couldn’t be otherwise, he was in cahoots with the one who knew
and there would be understanding, salvation in his arms if I took him at his word
I would know heaven and never see hell
but as I grew, I saw him shake at my words as I shook at his
and learned that both he and I were simply hoping for the best
Run, Red Dress, run
Run to him
Down the hall,
‘Round the corner,
Through the door
To his bed.
Let your tongue dance
On his cheek and lips
Dance slow wind
Speak hot breath
Bear him away on waves of kisses and
Deliver him again and again.
Lost Coast Review Fall 2014
my silence?
when it roars like a river and whistles in the wind,
when it comes as lightening to crackle on the sand,
will you know it then? will you know it then? my silence.
my silence?
when it comes as waves to crash upon the shore,
when comes as a demon to pound at your door?
will you know it then? will you know it then? my silence.
my silence?
when it rises like a dragon to wrestle the wind among the trees
will you know it then? will you know what it means?
this thunder, this lightning, this dragon, this silence.
It is a moonscape: broken glass, oatmeal concrete, opaque shadows.
Still dim;
eyelashes to break citrus, gold, yellow-
Tumbling downstairs, boxes flatten, dominoes fly,
Millipede arms, legs and fingers drumming.
Pictures wave on a curtain of wind, Strobe lights, lasers and messages on the wall.
Broken down, white cat front-end transmission, Stagger weighted motion, swinging outward counter-balance steel ball…
The smell of machine oil, the tap of feet Passing overhead
re-lock.
Cylinders revolve, levers catch, barrels rotate,
Meaning, vision and dreams return
Complete.
Start again the day.