Tag Archives: illusion

The birth of time

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My last post may have seemed rather a dismal prospect, so I felt the need to perk things up a bit. Hence this prequel.

Suddenly, there was suddenly
Suddenly one thing could follow the last
A great thumping cosmos hummed itself
Into being, bits of light chased and clumped

Into riots of color. Suddenly,
There could be succession, a rhythm.
There could be change and season
And the songs the winter writes for summer.

Then came memory, and all the love and loathing
To fill it til it spilled bursting
Into spinning clinging helical again
What was became was

How could I not be born?

I strode along Boulevards of grace-rimmed
Wonder, green-eyed raspberry wet
Racing, lapping my feet, my soul
The color of sweet melting kisses.

A swirl of endless life/death enticed about me
How kind to have this path so under me!
How clear to have such rhyming intense otherness
Calling all about!

I have these charts, these vectors,
This swollen ark to take me sailing.
Here comes a grandfather wind
All a-swoon!

The poet who sang at the end of time

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The bland design falls, outward bound.
The swilling beast groans with cheap ecstasy,
Sometimes interior,
Sometimes superior.

What is exterior obliterates me
Until my fragile image asserts its wee voice,
Lost in a chorus
Of wee voices.

I know, I know, I am the only me,
The only conjunction of these points,
But how could you have failed to guide me
Through this hidden path?

Was I supposed to intuit mere chance?

As it is, I’m left to glide along
Waste-bound avenues,
Street grime the color of storm clouds,
Tipping into a middling redemption

Unawares, using old navigation charts,
Useless azimuths, discarded distances,
Captain of a bottomless vessel,
An occidental sailor upon oriental shores.

See there, where no destination lies.
A simple ending, no beyond, no before.
Not even a reason for despairing.
We’d mistaken the moon for a song.

This herky-jerky journey

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This herky-jerky journey between madness and content
In the slender strand of a lifetime,
This momentary fragment, when a step forward or back
Means obliteration, just kills me.
I mean I am a directionless wisp,
A whim of contingency.

I know, I know, it’s the speed, not the light,
It’s the memory, not the event, but still,
Can my consequence be detectable?
What is the worth of a single bubble, unique but common?
I have the same value as a single mote,
A quantum value.

I am the boson of this boat,
My captain has abdicated
In favor of probability.
What pops in also pops out,
What breeds continuity
Also bleeds continuity.

And yet, here we are, our helices entwined,
Our smear upon history irrevocable.
That shallow basin, barely discernible
– Just ignore it.
It’s your destiny.

One

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If all is one,
Why do I torture myself
With Illusion?

If a child’s scream
Sears my heart
More than a mountain stream,

If the despair of love
Kills me more
Than the promise of Spring,

What good is redemption?

If the longing
Endlessly lingers
If the forlorn
Beg for my embrace

What use are tears?

Is there a kind of one
That means many?
Or an illusion
That means now?

How curious
That from boundless unity
I have built heaven and hell.

A map of childhood

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You are here
Where is your soul?
Behind those ancient mountains
So dreary unseen

Or what terror claims your heart
You cannot tell North from South?

Where does that thick reddish road
Lead to your left?
What cities await your slow withdrawal
Still urging still purging
Stillness

As yet unreached horizons
Clearly labelled
Just beyond the water
Are yours

You can’t reject them
Can you?