fingers don't always obey
especially after a laboring day
when one sits down to play
it's best to spread digit array

though stretching tendons resist
bones have final shape and twist
while ignoring a clicking in wrist
no wounder some notes do get missed

at first learning music importuned
and consistent bad habits were pruned
then once the strings are all tuned
one can settle into rhythmic commune

-cec

Interstellar traveling fella
far from your star shine still?
Viewing from on high, this hill
curious about your candela

Rock or eternal rocket engine?
those that sleep eons between
passengers with immortal genes
or another type of life intention

come back, give us a chance
to discover more, and why you dervish dance
maybe your mission could wait
now you must go, we were too late

Into the dark again, changing your path
time for all instants doesn't exist
no need to measure just add to the list
someone, somewhere, did their math

-cec

earth's sweet dream in icy darkness
silence falls to embrace the lake's depths
dark bound colors embrace space at rest
dancing hours dance, branching hope's round wings
evening fields call to slow city's empty blind stones
land grass left, hand cut, longing for a yellow dawn-line song

-cec

It was loping along by a forest glen
when a hag of a snag caught one foot
Whoa! **, **!
it's big toe started to grow and swell

First a limp and a hop,
a shuffle and stop, then
the pain was so hot, it up-shot
for a furry upending

So there supine in cool muddy grass
raising its sole while sitting on ***
this poor creatures cooing lament
over his bulbous toe now thoroughly bent

Gaining some strength and not one to relent
the big one stood up and willed his intent
head for the hills to find a healing willow
and while there find rest on mossy pillow

If you find yourself upon a trail
and find a Bigfoot print with big-toe scale
remember of this woods wise tale
and watch your step that snags entail

-cec

One finger antics skipping small Qs & Ps
macro digits missing micro keys
typing 'bull in a china shop' cubicle script
causing ire on fire for recipient's wired grip

Apologies flourish to nourish and heal
with emogies and chuckles sealing the deal
writing pigeon dialect, mediocre at best
better spell checking skills puts one at rest

-cec

Waiting to hear the crack of the bat
hitting that hardball's wrap
flying off and dying right
into foul, drawn-out, Ohhh... mouths
of the crowd, over infield shouts
encouraging fielder's route
to catch the airy out
remove all doubt
showing clout
blowout
No hitter!

-cec

Tied into taut lines of poetry
bridging the chasms of thought
these entangled ideas in words
sometimes spliced or braided
weave suspension into a prosaic world
stretching it with loops and rosettes
then tighten and measure, rhyme/rhythm
in action crossing the great divides
testing strength of imagination's thread

-cec

Let's begin our song with its music coda —
Nahua elders, of an agricultural peoples of ancient America
weaving their way into history's braided tail
with a relevant document of late fifteen hundreds
communed with a Spanish Franciscan friar, Bernardino de Sahagún
suspending time and space onto European paper
writing, a general history, of the things of New Spain
the Florentine Codex (1575-77), during the Great Pestilence of 1576

Meeting to collect the remains of the day in Colegio Imperial
on the Aztec bones of a city now called Mexico
it was ends of eras, community, culture, ghosts
a Rosetta stone of Spanish steel and Nahua blood columns
laid out so even Pliny the Elder would be proud
thirty plus years to account, thousands dead
now resting at Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana in Florence, Italy
this profane tomb still wet from the voyage of conquest ...


Nahua, you plant your staple crops, still
beans, maize, squash, tomatoes; still
the maguey plant calls to your weavers, still
remembering your hands and hearts, still
crushing life may come and go
but the elders foregoing forgetting
released their spirits to print your song

-cec

In sunshine
it rains on occasion
cloudburst's choice
           invasion
catching some with muddy shoes
and others
singing joyful celluloid songs

another cold mud month
does not discriminate
sporadically choosing victims
                 once
to the many fallen
channeled
red rivulet's ruin

April,
where are your poppies,
moments of silence?
tears, showers copy,
if dammed would over flood
howling grief's tsunami
pain pressing each drop
to say they did not end it
            sooner

-cec

Sing joy to me of May and rose
along the tree lines shade and grove
let stride and time slow with noon sun
while hold of hands become as one
know heart and mind are with you dear
and fear us not of stone marks near
for love will steer our hearts with cheer
until the stars sleep sound wu wei

-cec

Three monkeys, wearing stylish t-shirts of death and destruction:
one its eyes, one its ears and one with mouth covered, sit outside.
In the dust and debris of Gaza, monkey bones seem like children's,
where are their mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, grand parents?
Why do the apartment concrete slabs slant and tilt so?
A pipe gurgles water seeking pressure to climb out and up
into the high-rises of civilization, to no avail;  stray dogs drink warily.
Distant thunder pounds the ground, like giant hammers all day long,
not construction; deconstruction, demolition, immolation, death.
Humanity flees with nowhere to go on this planet of shame
as the conquering heroes raise small skull cups to cheer a victory.

-cec

In this fibrous cavity gouged
chatters chisel's carboned tooth
gnawing carrion bole's endless slumber
once a living tree with dreams
now a gibbous hollow halo
green relents to oil's blush
while basking barren in this sun
what reveries may come by viand's lay
and slake betrayal of its forest nature

-cec

Watch your head through low beam's threshold
take a shovel as you enter, leave all tether behind
now put your back and foot into each uttered word
and dig, dig deep language of unadorned emotions
load that cart with precious mettle and loose ****
sorted and blameless from ****** stone sentiment
heaped near the furnace and crucible of song

-cec

The migratory gathering of northern aquatic birds have vanished,
only local ducks, geese and other fauna hidden in reeds, remain.
A sun, so bright, has taken to the skies; buds have swollen.
Again, looking out over this lake of talking waters, its symbolic gibbering
of what winds have brought to shore in subtle story breezes.
Near the shallows Barrow's Goldeneye dive to bottom salads,
Harry Houdini's escaped magic ducks; now you see them, now you don't.
What seem empty branches yield flowers and small feathered streaks
red-lining a sound frequency of bird chat, twitter or colloquial colloquy.
One more afternoon walk with easy stride and free association's couch.

-cec

Jean Gebser,  Winter Poem 1944:

“Das Wintergedicht”

"Who speaks of the future?
Who counts
in saying:
“It shall be”?
Look outward
and you see within:
It is. ..."

"Within,
beyond the fountains, rivers, and stars
the poet’s task
to face the entire contents [of word, language]
emerges,
and accordingly
it is an honest, soundless state of no-longer-speaking."
...

"Sposa ..." by Vivaldi sung by Bartoli,
Plays ...

wives disrespected, ignored, forgotten
she, resounded, off tract, forlorn
found, you, a treasure in Neptune's ocean
faithful to your heart and female notions
then we braced in loving arms
pressing full these bodies charms
when highest notes did meet in kiss
this world, fell away, as though in mist
and all there was were these two souls
immersed in classic rapture ritual
as time spun down this tape of bliss
your mortal coils did drift amiss
though in this heart you always play
this dream's music throughout dog's day

-cec

German Industrial Music spurns —
pounding out its well oiled skirmishes
precision geared for optimal churn
dystopically torn and ragged dervishes
chemically masked in shrouded breathing
turn tables on society's expectant cadres
scrawling doodles on the walls of empire;
wired electrical schematics of stronger emotions
with exploded views of heart's spirited pistons

-cec

Sun-yellow pointing branches
soaking in a sky steel lake
straight and smooth sway
wind in the willows prancing

geese fly low on waters, dip wing
let loose lively horn honks
aiming for the other shore
to gather gaggle from the skein

old and new coots paddle near
not too close to ease their fear
they dive and disappear away
to bob like corks from bottom's buffet

this blind is blind to feathered eyes
a chance to glimpse from this disguise
the leaps and games of fauna's bath
and real a frame through nature's lath

-cec

Last night it stormed, wind and the rain
turbulent was nature, unruly, mutinous
city sirens lurked, night sleepless as bedlam broke
nameless sounds outside the windows spoke
shadowy clouds raced around each other's skirts
buckets rattled, hedges hissed, one dog barked
restless atmospheric fingers plucked flotsam and jetsam
while the birds hunker in their bunkers made of leaves

-cec

Music, sweet music plays its instruments
filling these caverns of glass and steel
a giant bowl of melody's bubbles sloshing
until the swing of rhythm walks and reels
each bypassing person made whole
with bass, fiddle, guitar and peak mandolin

Music, sweet music dreaming a tune
bringing together musicians, ants to sugar
each grain full of heart's energy, swoons
interludes exhale to breath resurgent
whining, tunning up, plucking old timey
song and prance to cort generous chiming

Sweet music's music, strolls through, lofted
making way's sway to new combinations
singles and couplets, thrum out, turn softest
slow then at pace, not race, in syncopation
no humdrum here but humming and druming
you're invited, incited to join in this strumming

-cec

Just heard about cookies with spam!
a full plate was offered with canned ham
baked for a birthday boy of eighty three
Who-said he felt much younger and with glee
They sat 'round a table eating these delicacies
each lauding the bake-tress with laughter, at ease
now give up that recipe and open that can
for it doesn't seem delicious to be just a fan

-cec