But lo! your flames now flicker and will cease;
this season's reign of fire begins to wane.
Look, now your brother Winter breaks his peace
to take from you the throne of earth again.

Let darkness creep again into the world;
let summer sink in silent death-like sleep.
Let earth again succumb to Winter's charms;
and in the shadows, wean the spark of light.

Slow down your constant spin of sunlit days,
and find in autumn's pace great joy and peace.
The summer is not dead, it merely sleeps,
and waits through this cold season for release.

23 SEP 2011

What difference does each moment make?
Not much, when set apart.
When you add them together,
you find out how greatness starts:
a simple grin, a stolen wink,
a seeming cast-off line;
almost unnoticed as the noise
from others rushes in.

Each plays their part in miniscule,
a section of the whole,
and seldom wanders out beyond
the confines of their role;
and yet, each is integral
to the thing that they comprise.
In that, too, is a greatness
beyond measure, in disguise.

16 SEP 2011

I got a feeling there's a change coming on the wind;
just a feeling I get in my bones now and then:
something pushing, moving you and I along,
something there ain't no sense fighting, something strong.
Maybe it's you, maybe it's me;
let's see what happens.
Curiosity ain't no sin.

Nothing to prove and the rest of the night left to do it.
Nothing to lose if we try - might as well get to it.

I got a feeling everything's gonna work on out;
just a feeling I might know what I'm talking about:
something putting down roots from my boots in the dirt,
something gonna lay one on ya, but it ain't gonna hurt (well, not much);
Maybe it's you, maybe it's me;
let's stick around a while.
We can remove all doubt.

I got a feeling that tonight's gonna be the night
Just a feeling ain't no need to be uptight
Something growing, I know you can feel it too;
Something coming, gonna chase away these blues.
Maybe it's you, maybe it's me,
No matter what happens,
looks it'll be all right.

Nothing to prove and the rest of the night left to do it.
Nothing to lose if we try - might as well get to it.

for Sondra Galyn

18 AUG 2011

There's a little word that covers so much ground, fits in so many contexts, and feels so at home in so many social variations that most people don't give it a lot of thought. It's what I like to call a 'Smurf' or a word used in place of the word implied. 'Smurf' is an imaginary blue creature that exists in the world of celluloid and merchandising (and what a lovely place that is!) whose primary interesting characteristic, besides a total fear and loathing for witchcraft as represented by a bumbling, bald headed man in a monk's robe and his more sinister, closer-to-earth familiar (speaking of familiar, does this attitude toward earth-centered religions remind you of any place in particular?), is a wonderful habit of replacing certain words in certain sentences said in certain situations with the word 'Smurfy.' A brief (and only brief, because I feel an entire linguistics volume could not do justice to such a concept) list of examples and the wide range of interpretation available to our young, eager-to-learn minds is (NOTE: Although the word 'Smurfy' is normally used in a seemingly positive sense, there always lurks in the darkness a negative, absurdly wicked (or suggestive) meaning to any potential word substitution game. This is also known as 'pig subliminalese.').

HERE GOES:

"I feel Smurfy today!"

MALE SPEAKER: could refer to being happy, rested, positive, adventurous, wonderful, god-like (see note on 'Oh, Smurf!') or angry, upset, disturbed, horny, out of control, evil, etc.

FEMALE SPEAKER: same as above except could also mean, "It's a day before my period starts and I'm really on edge. Don't fuck with me, because I've got a 12-pound sledge hammer ready to turn you into jelly."

"That's just Smurfy!"

SMURFESE for: that sucks, that's wonderful, that's totally beyond my comprehension, that really puts a whole new angle on our relationship, my little Smurfy one, etc., etc.

"Oh, Smurf!"

COULD BE a recognition of a smurfalene deity, or an expression of horror, pleasure or almost anything else. One could almost say, 'Oh, Vague!' and cover the same ground.

MOVING RIGHT ALONG

What is this all leading to in our own language? We have a word like 'Smurf' in our vocabulary. Surprised? Know what the word is, cousin?

Shit.

That's the word, and here are some examples of it in use:

"I gotta take a shit"

Oddly enough, this means a need for a bowel movement.

"I feel like shit!"

A comparison of one's own state of health and being with that of fecal matter. Does shit often feel like us?

"This food tastes like shit!"

Again, how do we know?

"This is good shit, man!"

The best in life is always that which leaves us.

"Shit! That dude is the shit!"

Once again, we equate the best with the most mortal part of ourselves.

"Oh, shit!"

Could be a substitute for swearing on the earth, which is God's foot "stool" (no pun intended).

SPEAKING OF SHIT: Shit Sandwich - A One Act Play

Have you ever wondered what goes into a shit sandwich? I got a feeling you ain't gonna believe it, brother.

CAST (in order of appearance):

MERDE - A local heavy, working for the Sanitation Department
BREAD - A clerk at the local food bank
TOMMY ATO - A reproductively challenged playboy
ROSEMARY - A fresh, young girl from the country
MUSTARD - A friend of Merde's, perhaps a relative

Scene One

The action takes place in the town of Countertop, where all the characters reside. As we join the action, MERDE enters from stage left and greets MUSTARD, who is hanging out center stage.

MUSTARD (seeing MERDE enter): Shit, man, you got any bread?

MERDE (shakes his head): Nah, man, I'm all dried out. You seen Mayo around?

MUSTARD: Saw him at the shelf coupla days ago; looks like he's spreading himself pretty thin. I think he's been hanging out with Tommy Ato.

MERDE: Never could figure that motherfucker out - people say he's a vegetable . . .

MUSTARD: Nah, he's just a fucking fruit.

MERDE: It's all in where your seed ends up, man.

MUSTARD: Ain't it the truth?

MERDE: Howz Spice doin'?

MUSTARD: That sage? Doing all right, if you know what I'm saying; heard he's hanging down on Rack Street with ma boys Pepper and Dillon.

MERDE: Pepper still got that bitch Rosemary?

MUSTARD: Yeah, she's still fresh. D'ya see her sister, man?

MERDE: Shit, yeah, I know . . . most beautiful onion I ever seen. We oughta call her up and get this thing goin' on.

MUSTARD: We gotta have bread for that, man.

MERDE: Don't I know it! Maybe we should call up The Knife, touch him for a spot.

MUSTARD: I heard Margarine and her lard-ass sister were buttering him up good. Plus, he's been known to cut his shit, if you know what I'm saying.

MERDE (shivering): Nah, man, I'm not into that.

AS MUCH AS I KNOW YOU'RE ALL FULLY INTO THIS, IT'S GOTTA END. THE LAST THING I WANT TO DO IS CREATE SOME SORT OF SICK, ANAL-RETENTIVE SCHOOL OF DRAMA THAT DOES TO 'Waiting for Godot' WHAT 'Waiting for Godot' DID TO 'Waiting for Godot.' Comprende?

Excerpt from the unpublished Secret Undertown Ministry, 1994

It's hard to speak one's mind if it is empty,
or tempt one's tongue with tastes you've never known:
like words of any length beyond half-meter,
not just repeated from pulpit or throne.

It's tough to let one's brain lapse into jelly,
to feign an ignorance so wide and deep
it knows only the mouth, the cock and belly;
and even when awake, is sound asleep.

14 JUN 2011

I don't know where we're going
(barely remember where we've been),
but I can tell which way the wind is blowing.
Look to your valuables, my friend.

They say it's just the times, but I don't know;
just saying it don't ever make it so.

I don't know how you get through it -
probably much the same as me;
and I don't know, sometimes I just say screw it.
Could be that's how it ends, maybe.

I don't know about your sense of humor,
but I know we're in this together;
I don't know sometimes to laugh or cry -
what can you do about the weather?

They say the world's run out of gas;
just wishing it don't make it come to pass.

I don't know what you know;
or if I think it's worth your thinking.
I don't know if we can get along,
it all depends on what we're drinking.

I don't know where we're headed;
could be salvation, or destruction.
In either case, we both may have to face
a whole new method of instruction.

They say the end is near, my brother;
not much you can do about it, one way or the other.

What is this? This is bliss:
letting go of letting go.
What is this? This is bliss:
both of us admitting we don't know.

13 MAY 2011

05 MAY 2011