Dying/broken/forgiven.... now I begin

Born: 17-06-56....gemini.... monkey
re-born: 3-09-80
born again\found: 14-04-08
other notable dates: 10-03-68; 03-09-87; 23-03-96;
1-05-98; 31-01-02; 5-04-04

Interests: movement, stressed/transgressive embodiment, lived experience (body\space\time\relation)
expression ( word, dance, text, image, story, music, poetics)
learning, yielding......

Hopes for the blog:
offer up the wild intersectedness of lived experience and engage others in creative, expressive, perhaps irreverant, hopefully playful, and respectful encounters....
enact kindness
create moments of pause for disclosure, discovery, stillness

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

into the wild tangled places

I never met a philosopher who didn't
( secretly ) want to be smoke
taoist non of non-action
pure thought drifting
unencumbered by the dirty work of words

I never met an addict who didn't
crave ( resolution)
one moment of glorious free fall quiet
celebrating torment's disclosures

I never met a cat who couldn't
survive a brutal fall
only to be broken by a lesser one that offered
no time to surrender to that
instinct of waiting
for the world to open up in front of her

I never met a poet who didn't
care about words
carrying the load
& feel the ache of that
deep in his own bones

I never met a story that couldn't
find a poet
willing to take the hits
longing to be summoned
into the wild tangled places
where bodies hurt
stones cry
moonlight bears witness


  1. this piece was begun awhile ago, and it became more tangible for me following my read of and response to Jon's piece entitled "Poem for Poets" on Dec 16.
    I continue to be moved by the lovely work of words I have the privilege to encounter at the blog sites of so many dedicated and authentic writers.

  2. Harlequin,

    Like a thirsty man in the desert I witness this work of yours. As my Mormon brother would say, "Sheesh."
    "One moment of glorious free fall quiet contemplation..." I think a lot of addiction does include celebration. And I think your insight into that is telling of your character, and the broadness of your intellect.
    You are so good to me, I feel ashamed to even pretend to deserve the kindness I have known from you. I realize you would never be but yourself, and therefore refuse such credit, on honor. But screw it: I admire the #^%^ out of you. Sorry. And goddammit, I'm going to prove it.
    Thank you.

  3. Great post.

    And all the very best of the season's blessings to you and yours.

  4. Isn't it the fighting that makes the peace valuable? I want to be a poet someday.

    H...best of the best to you through the coming days, weeks, years, eons.

  5. WM-- thanks for the sweet sentiment... right back athcha; and I have to agree...being a poet is a journey, not a destination.
    Dave-- yuletide good wishes to you, too. thanks for the kind words
    Andy-- thanks for the gifts of your respect,insight and good will... and keep on visiting :)