poetry from another dimension

Archive for January, 2011

the-shopping-list

oil (coconut, sesame)
water (5 gallons)
avocados
sprouts

{call Dena}

almonds
dates

{call dentist}

apricots (turkish)
brazil nuts (raw, of course)

{do the laundry}
/● do?●/

brown rice

{do the dishes}
/● do? ●/

nori

{water the plants}
/● an act of love ●/

requirements fulfilled

{so what if they are not?}
{why wait until it’s done?}

[[[there is nothing else needed]]]
[[[no there is nothing else needed]]]

gaze at the blue sky

{stop everything}

or the dome of stars, or the full moon overhead

{inside reflected on the outside, blazes of light}

fall in love

{sukinoh, santosha}

trans. happiness contentment

fall in love

{not with something or someone}

fall in love

{that list is no longer necessary}

fall in love

[[with living]]

like a drop returning to the ocean
come home

/● maybe this never meant ●/
/● what they told us it did ●/

©exitsbyalice


the inbox

Click

it’s over

yes that and that and that

all gone

years of history

this person who no longer exists

assimilated as she was

into

a new form

morphed

evolved

(one hopes)

but her mail

still sits

congested in my

inbox

click, unsubscribe

notices of events

no longer to be attended

click click unsubscribe

sales on items

the desire for which has long ago been

abandoned

click click

those digital ideas

unsubscribe, click click

take up space

they have

a lot of weight

click, click

who knew

the power they would have

in keeping us from

moving

forward

oooooh,,,,ohhhhh…

i remember when he wrote me this

ohhh….

pause

/*
/*
/*
/*

Scroll?

Back Scroll

pause

/*
/*
/*

reflect

/*
/*
/*

remember…….

heaving sigh, delete, click

wings

©exitsbyalice


no rhyme

No rhyme,

no rhyme

the dude he says

!sister!

!this

!got

no rhyme

no rhyme

 

Rhyme it be like the

imitation of

rhythm

see

ME, i’d rather have the

beat

in

my

blood

 

than a false rhyme

set them words to squeeze together

like a shotgun marriage

 

it’s no divine song

if the meaning is bound by the

rhyme

rhyme

rhyme

rhyme

 

me, I say

who says there ain’t

no rhyme?

 

like you tell the ocean the waves got to crash on

your time?

your time?

your time?

©exitsbyalice

 

 

 


speaking….mind and heart

instrument panel of the soul
(the voice)
indicator lights blinking
what’s turned on
or off

speech of the mind?

or the heart?

or

does this song emerge from a seat
on a rickety fence

dividing the two…

one from the other…

or

does it spring from the seat where
mind and heart speak as one
real talk
mind and heart speak

as one

take your seat
a teacher once told me
perhaps this was what she meant
it was she
who taught me this hearing
differently

i love to hear you talk
every word seems
infused
with new meaning
i hear you
the words seem
real
sprung from a seat where
mind and heart speak
as one

©exitsbyalice


the flame

tender flame
(steady flickering)
hotter
then
milder

wildness expressed

in variations of
color
deep central blues
flickering peachy leaves
tips of rosey vermillion

burning
long
building and
receding

infinite expressions on a theme

earth transforming into light
tasting salt
smelling sweet
touching silk
the fabric of unfolding
transformations
and
exchanges

enjoyable eruptions and
languid
liquid pauses

ah!
belly fire pours
into the pool of a navel

her favorite standing place
her favorite standing place
her favorite standing place

where humans can know
the absence of earth
in
pure tasting

flames shining
steady
smoldering
sweet and deep
and lucid


love song, to the mysterious cosmic lover

One day
strolling the ethers
and there you were
shimmering divine being
pranic circuits flirting

us, sitting together
on the rings of saturn
playing with mergence
and emergence,
magnetic fields ignited
by the pulling away
like taffy


and staying together
like friends

that was fun
and very sexy

“Eros’
velvety whispers

in a convolvulic ear
the space between
tasted
by the pores of the skin

once the theologian
sat across the table
black overcoat
steady gaze
cerebral circuits
humming
announcing
love only known
in separation
divine or
otherwise

heard
it was a mystery
yet to be
revealed
in understanding

now, on those rings of saturn
I knew
melding together
pulling apart
the space between
the only space
of touching

you or
love or god
or all that is

this space between
the richest of treasures
beauty of the together
revealed only by
the space between


these hands

jessica and I
in the lobby
of the main house
at the ashram
spoke of 47 and
the blossoming of
creative wisdom
accompanying
the release
of the me’s
we have been

we scribbled notes
and she spoke of saving the ocean
and other works of love and art
one project
capturing images of the hands of
women she loved

we gazed together
at these hands
smiling, thinking, sharing
yes, perhaps
these hands

tell a more accurate tale
than anatomies
other
canvases

they have worked
and they show it
a million dishes mopped
and counting
thousands or more
carrots chopped
for loved ones

these hands scruffed
toshi the cat
on the neck
cleaned his litter box
and folded the towel
over his tiny form
when life was over

grasping palms of dozens of lawyers
or more
as they emerged from the cuffs
of a navy blue suit
they’ve typed dozens of contracts and
shifted through thousands of file folders

etched hundreds of drawings
and planted many flowers

counted millions of dollars….bills and quarters
dropped into the hands of bankers, customers,
cashiers
and into the cups of the
folks on the street

ten years or more now
they’ve aptly communicated to students
that which
I cannot say
in words
it’s hard to “lift up”
when no one gives you
a hand

the gods have used them
or so I hope
in treatment rooms
to ease the pains of the afflicted
so they could let go
and move again
and maybe even
move on

“A funny thing happened with these hands”
I said to Jess, turning them over
revealing the destiny
etched on the palms
“with each decision made to choose love”
instead of money”
“the lines became clearer”
“and cleaner”
“and stronger”

we smiled at each other

“and my life line”
“became”
“longer”

So now,
while the backs of these hands may look
10 years older than this body
the palms of these hands
where the meridian of the heart pours forth
look younger than
they ever did

We smiled and our eyes met and we placed
our respective palms
together
time honored ritual
for thousands of years
and bowed to each other
at 47
celebrating our hands
and our
well spent years