would we be happy
basking in euphoria
glowing in the dark
doing whatever we please
anytime we wanted to

would it matter then
if we hurt anybody
in search of pleasure
do others even matter
as long as we’re feeling fine

hedonism reigns
and chaos rules unruly
prisoners escape
and cuckoo’s nests are emptied
from inside everyone’s mind

paradise was lost
to the knowledge of evil
the earth was flooded
40 days and 40 nights
for the wickedness of man

someday we may learn
parables, illustrations
written in the sky
literature’s life lessons
embodying art as life

perhaps we’ll all see
other people do matter
interdependence
together we are stronger
happiness lies in restraint


Del Maximo
© September 5, 2009

(tales of my mamasita cont.)

lambayong grew wild on the roadside
a vine like any other
large hand sized leaves grew singly
never in bunches
although lush and green
it was taken for granted
lambayong lay largely left alone
ignored and all but forgotten

my friends and I jumped rope
on the street by the big house
there was always a noisy gaggle
of 4 or 5 jumpers
just out having fun
a long vine stripped of leaves and branches
made a great rope
one day a young passerby asked
if she could join us
we had never seen her before
but gladly let her jump in
for some reason she got mad at me
grabbed the vine, doubled it
and lashed me hard
she was about to hit me again
I reached out and caught the vine
wound it around my hand
and lashed back at her
she ran away sobbing and wailing
we never saw her again
and never found out who she was

during the Japanese occupation
not everyone evacuated like we did
a lovely family from Cebu stayed in town
one daughter was my fourth grade classmate
a beautiful mestiza with fair skin
and loose wavy hair
but we were never friends
just classmates
her family’s affluence was well known
father was a doctor and land owner
jealous lips whispered lies
“the family is supporting guerrillas”
denials fell on closed ears
perhaps willfully lost in translation
lack of evidence didn’t matter
there was an example to be made
brutality’s lesson to be taught
the entire family was beheaded
down to the four year old

Isabel was my best friend
we found each other before the war
I had many neighborhood friends
but Sabel was the only one welcome
to play in the big house
she had both parents
a big sister and brother
a younger brother
they lived in their own
nipa and bamboo house
stilted high from the ground
a beautiful girl with a dark complexion
long black ***** hair fell
in ringlets onto her forehead
we would bathe together
singing together in the bathroom
one kind uncle had his own wing
in the big house
he built me a sturdy swing for two
hung from the ceiling
big strong ropes held a wide wooden seat
Sabel and I would swing away together
sometimes upside down
like a couple of crazy monkeys
we would go up and down the stairs
arms over shoulders
forever singing songs
sometimes her family invited me to lunch
but she never had a meal with us
in the big house
her parents managed to support their family
mother provided laundry service
for the affluent in town
including my family
father traded goods
their life seemed happy and harmonious
after the war
my family returned to Carigara
don’t know what happened to them
I never saw Sabel again
but I never forgot her

for Steph and Mel

my white tea candle burns quietly at home
upon my TV tray
within an etched glass lantern
multi-faceted Moravian stars
catching an angle’s warm, yellow glow
a pinpoint of reflection of sorrows past
a window remembering a younger brother
passing before me

her mantle is ablaze in its annual tally
commemorating her first child
born too perfect for this world
on yesteryear’s Christmas day

reciprocity’s tradition
candles lit as offering for one another
a moment to bask in comfort’s connection
linking distant kindred spirits’ hearts
a sharing of sadness between friends
not alone in their grief and memories
honoring loss and life
and love

Too Late

do not throw water
upon emberless ashes-
the fire is out


Spring Vacancy

a haven for nests
tight twigs and dense foliage
lemons trees welcome


Cold Feet**

when will Summer come
mornings can be very cool
wooden floors like ice

she dreams of him
strangers seated at long tables
repast in her residence
a wake awakening thoughts
eminent signs and symbols
of transitioning

she thought he was calling her
never imagined he would take her son
fourth of five
sixth of nine overall
seemingly the healthiest among them

a year and a month later
a series of medical mishaps
emergency rooms and hospitals
x-rays, ultra sounds and CT scans
tranfusions, colonoscopies and CT colonographies

he returns so often now
strangers in the house
awakening concerns
for a proper last will and testament
she no longer fears him
it's life's sufferings that frighten her
not a welcoming but a readiness
impeding her fight
she feels her time is near

woke up this morning
listening to dad talking
his words indistinct
just the sound of his voice droning
barking instructions the way some Asian fathers do
with the military cadence of a drill sergeant
although he’s been gone so long
he creeps into my dreams now and then
inducing feelings of affection
he didn’t demonstrate in life

he was a man of simple faith:
with a roof over your head
clothes on your back
food on the table
you should be happy

his health caused him to retire early
still, he kept himself busy
considered himself a man of action
he worked hard and led by example
he didn’t guide or counsel me
you have to have conversations to do that
through his lies he taught me not to
but within his own means
there was nothing he wouldn’t do for us
perhaps he did too much

it’s been so long I can’t remember the exact date
he had a “fatal” heart attack towards the end of February
and died two and a half months later
on May 6, 1986

how ironic that I can still hear his voice
and now, somehow, find reassurance in his tone


Del Maximo
© February 18, 2010

endlessness of blue
oceans stretching seaward
eternal skies
mating at the horizon
in a place so far away

today is deep blue
in gray matter's recesses
permeating me
invading the core of me
deep down to my apple seeds

need to release it
let it leave me through my spine
kundalini dreams
breath of fire expressions
feel the power in my hands

ingredients were chopped
cleanly, neatly
with care
cutting tools were pre-sterilized
and pre-packaged
then wiped clean after use
he arrived in blue scrubs
and donned blue nitrile gloves
for mutual protection
it had been a while for her
her nails were long
she sat in an easy chair
with her feet up on an ottoman
a towel was spread before he began
to make clean up easier
the scent of an alcohol wipe
wafted as he worked
little did he know
we would finish what he started
after he left we gathered up the clippings
thick and fungal
we put them in a *** to boil
with sautéed celery, onions and seasonings
salt and pepper to taste
hmmmmm...delicious, home made
toe nail soup!

they found a new playground
if only for a visit
******* jagged rocks to climb atop
as king and queens of the hill
they came in the morning
and stayed beyond long shadows
no telling when they would get another chance

they reached the summit with the skill of goats
shod in P. F. Flyers
jostling but no shoving
well aware of the precarious danger
taking turns at the highest peak
laughing, talking and telling tales
blowing up bubble gum and balloons till they popped
friends just hanging out on school break
city kids enjoying themselves
out of doors in the fresh air of summer

the Housing Authority was repaving the parking lot
they piled the dug up pieces high
a mountain of broken asphalt
in the days before yellow tape was invented
the Projects kids took full advantage
like a glee filled day at the beach
on a rocky New Jersey Shore

Tony came out fighting hard for each breath
procedures and hospitals he endured
born an incredible child none-the-less
from him not one complaint was ever heard
taken too soon to the sweet here after
memories filling the hole left behind
a hero who faced his pain with laughter
giving his mom and sisters a hard time
the illuminating glow of his smile
riding four wheelers and fishing with dad
his pranking, teasing, giggling jokester style
cherishing the nineteen years that we had

a spirit for life some only dream of
feeling, forever, his presence and love

the ground shakes as she approaches
rotundly trudging forth in petite gentility
hairy arms flailing
nostrils flair with the bray of her speech
the odor of ignorance on her breath
lies spew like educated honey
expressed in sweet smelling
Snow White delusions
beady eyes the color of ignominy
assess mannerisms and etiquette
seeking softspots to expose and exploit
carrying a large plastic bag on her midnight meanders
she collects the load she lays on the road
she always keeps her **** together
she claims to be the life of the party
but her grunts, snorts and oinks betray her
who can she be but the beast?

her eyes taped closed
to keep them from drying out
IV’s and NG’s going in
tubes draining
ventilators and blood pressure machines
so many tubes keeping her stable
so many tubes
can a person become a shell?
I can still see her

end of life support procedures
morphine drip to make her “comfortable”
gradient decrease in blood pressure maintenance
drifting off to eternal sleep

an impromptu improvised ritual
a heartfelt prayer
a hands on circle of family
touching her
a rosary’s recital

said my goodbyes earlier
I understand it was best to let her go
but couldn't stay to watch her last breath
after Dad and Tops
thought I’d be more prepared
thought I was all cried out

it had been awhile--years
he doesn't believe in visiting
he's not there anyway
it's only remains
ashes and dust

he couldn't find the tombstone
a small slab of marble among many
his eyes walk around
reading a matrix of columns and rows
searching  for his name
his steps mindful of sacred ground
keeping balance in uneven hole-y-ness
the crab grass is overgrown
feet sinking into layers of runners
rendering footing unsure
it has to be by that tree

he finds it finally
just where it always was
they already marked it with white spray paint
a spot to be dug up
for his brother's interment
he will join Dad tomorrow
in a ceremony of guitars
this was his last chance
to visit alone with Dad

he stood staring
reading the engraved words
the stone is scarred but holding up
so nice to see it again
induced feelings of connection
a pleasant surprise

he took out his flute
drawing it close to lips
Dad never heard him play in life
perhaps he heard it in heaven
if not, maybe he'll hear it now

an improvised, sorrowful melody
fingers thinking out a tune
reverberating through hills
all the way to the ocean's sky
dissipating into wind
whispering on breezes
after pausing to read the name again
another song
he wonders if Dad heard him
then realizes it doesn't matter
he played it for *him

I saw a blue bird today
She flew down from my lemon tree
And hopped into my path
Blue and red like a robin but big as a jay
She was in a class by herself
With a curious twist of her head
She didn’t shy away
But stayed for a moment
Then flew away without leaving a deposit
A true blue bird
She left me happy

Got the news last Monday
Ms. Annie has passed away
Didn’t even know she was sick
Happy at first, believing she went home
Sympathy’s hug opened my sadness
Had to fight the deepness back
Pearls and lace
She looked pretty laying in state
Still, was stunned by closure’s shock
Oh Annie

Always glad to see me
Happy to hear my voice
“How’s your mother?” she would chirp
“I give you an ‘A’ today.”
“Good job.”
Forever upbeat and tireless
A ray of sunshine

I saw a blue bird today
She flew down from my lemon tree
And hopped into my path
She stayed a moment with me
Then flew away
Leaving me happy


Del Maximo
© December 16, 2007

the strangest dream I had my mind did stir
   a faint symphony beyond dark distance
   black pearly gates of enticing luster
my entire essence pulled forward in ethereal trance
   as gates slowly opened to draw me inside
   held steadfast by intrigue I offered no resistance
progressing downward in pitch darkness a great sadness I espied
   song of great sorrow its melody did sway
   familiar voices, recognizable cries
the troubles and sufferings of others whom in life I turned away
   in trembling sadness the echoes permeated
   my body, spirit and soul did fray
a cacophony of pain and regret my eyes more exacerbated
   looking into a mirror stained
   reflections of hurt my own actions created
light’s pinpoint guided me from this valley disdained
   into a lake of fiery brimstone
   vengeance consuming me till nothing remained

tidies up his clothes
seemingly unaware that
he still looks homeless
his eyes smile in petition
doesn't have to ask—you know

breeze shifts to downwind
smell of beer and cigarettes
he's run out of *****?
his one gray sock is holey
skin grimy, chafed and bleeding

turn away my gaze
to my everlasting shame
give or not to give
it's not even a question
he needs more than I can offer

awakened early this morning
too early
sat on the edge of my bed
and fell back asleep
sitting hunched over
wearing my glasses
as if I were staring at the floor
I entered dream's state
saw my mother’s feet
standing on the floor before me
as I looked down
she was wearing red, silver and blue
shiny, glittery high heeled shoes
a dream within a dream
I was a little boy
fallen asleep sitting on the floor
next to the dining room table
can’t remember the furniture
we had in childhood
but this was someone else’s house
I saw her feet standing before me
tapping her left foot
with those red, silver and blue high heels
tap tap tap tap tap...
I awakened, in life, and laid back down to sleep
one or two years before she passed
she asked me to buy her a pair of shoes
picked from a junk mail catalog
open toe with blue and red leather straps
latticed loosely across the front
and solid natural wood high heels
as kids we called them “samba shoes”
she loved them
but hid them from me for awhile
before admitting they were too small
I guess she got to wear them
after all

a sad rainy day
clouds hover like a spectre
over mourning skies
tonight they shall all rise up
the ghosts of the walking dead

I am there waiting
the cemetery frightens
but I must see her
see her face just one more time
aglow with life for one night

the earth is trembling
perspective fading in, out
as the shadows swoon
the mists are rising...there...there
Leonore, Leonore, please don't leave...

she is the whispering wind
billowing buffaloes of cotton candy
fiery red reflections
horizon's home to Venus and Jupiter
her evening eyes twinkle
in gradient shades of midnight
whether clear cerulean
or dark and stormy
her mood reassures, connects
she takes all under her wing
as her firmament holds us
sunshine's conduit
the epitome of blue skies
she keeps us happy
to take away even just a part of her
is a blotting of the mind
straight from the horses blinders
a piece of heart and happiness hidden
an erasure of nature
a blindfold to beauty
a shadow on my eyes
a silhouette of stucco
built too close to home and hearth
prisons have such walls as this
erected to confine and punish
our only crime is a love of peace and quiet
and neighborhood values


Del Maximo
© September 14, 2009

she had but one eye
hanging loose out of socket
the other was gone
a tasty treat for the birds
a hollow home for maggots

the putrid perfume
of her shriveled rotting flesh
rose from the knife wounds
which had long since been bled dry
open portals for the ants

she cursed her killer
her last breath whispered his name
spelled out in red
a blood curse to follow him
from life to eternity

she was everywhere
haunting his mind and his dreams
images of her
in life and rotting glory
even the ants spoke of her

she was calling him
"You promised.  Come back to me."
finally driven
sat next to her and waited
drawing her name with his blood


Del Maximo
© September 15, 2009

scent of prey is nigh
an innocent young couple
alone in the woods
oblivious to danger
he's kneeling down on one knee

silent is the chase
the look of terror in eyes
trapped in fearfulness
there is no place left to run
they stand trembling, holding hands

the growling surrounds
too easily they are caught
ripping and rending
with tooth and claw and bloodlust
as the forest is sullied

awakens groggy
the smell of death upon him
his heart is heavy
he feels the weight of horror
he watched it all from within

looks up with sadness
another full moon tonight
after so many
he is doomed to change again
howling echoes pierce the air

candles are burning
in vigilence and reverence
as beads are counted
measuring remaining days
with hopes of eternal life

pictures on the wall
reminiscent of times past
people that we knew
places that we visited
still vivid in our heart’s mind

so much happiness
fun times put out on display
so much heartache
with sad times hidden away
images of family

grandchildren’s faces
a new creation’s aura
smiling and cheeky
with Eden-like innocence
not yet aware of the world

an open casket
a solemn lifeless body
burned into psyche
a first generation death
prints I still don’t want to see

so many exes
old girlfriends, boyfriends, spouses
they were part of us
staking their claim in our lives
filling up dusty albums

framed or on pages
the old pictures are the best
peeling back the years
reminders of a good life
full of happiness and strife

it was her eyes
bright beautiful brown eyes
the kind that draw you in
and lock you down
they called me from across the room
to my surprise my heart did swoon
I wasn't looking for anything
but her eyes found me
I can never forget the moment
though things didn't work out
her eyes captivated me
and held me prisoner
though we weren't meant to be
those eyes
kind, inviting and lonely
in a roomful of people
her eyes
passionate and compelling
embracing
a moment I will never forget
it was her eyes

I like easy days
yesterday was so busy
pushing those deadlines
stayed till 10:00 p.m.
left from empty parking lot

I worked like a dog
but I did get a lot done
so today...easy
no one's bugging me right now
I have time to write tanka

feel the heater on
warming my resting shoulders
slouching in my chair
not feeling guilty at all
letting go of all the stress

I like lazy days
time for appreciation
time for some slowness
enjoying it 'cause I know
tomorrow will be crazy

some days you wrap me up
like a blanket
and smother me with kisses
other days you get to me
cocooning me in an envelope
tossing me to trash

some days you cut me
bleeding me dry
laughing in cynicism
other days you stitch me up
light up the world with your eyes
and heal me with your smile

some days you are my rock
my reason for living
the gemstone in my heart
other days you pick me up
and cast me down
or skip me on the water

it's just the crazy games we play
to keep life interesting
things done in the sun
but every night you rock me, baby
every night we rock

they moved their family to a new place
a little ways out in the country
in a house by a lake
appreciating the serenity of still waters
mirroring the color of blue skies and fiery sunsets
rippling in soft, fragrant breezes

he plants a tree in their new place
the back *** digs deep
ensuring the branching of her roots
in rich, nourishing soil
close by the water
she will not wither or shy
from heat or drought
her green leaves providing shelter and shade
her heart bearing truckloads of fruit

they live happily there
in their house by a lake
built upon a foundation of rock
enjoying the peace that only God can give
flourishing in the abundance of living waters

hiding in wood grain
he was waiting silently
his eyes looked about
as the old house was creaking
crispness of fall in the air

they broke a window
hoping to find shelter there
settled in to rest
noticed the eyes on the wall
more than just knots in woodwork

he was watching them
his stare had them glued in place
a mist came forward
they found the strength to break free
bolting for the open door

as the story spread
people came to check it out
couldn't help themselves
morbid curiosity
one by one they were chased off

caretaker cackles
"That's just Oscar" he tells them
"Lived here long ago"
"His wife and child were murdered"
"He's still here waiting for them"


Del Maximo
© October 3, 2009

Love is nakedness
Not just under the sheets
But before God and Everyone
And I don’t want you to see me naked
I don’t want anyone to see me naked
I don’t want you to see my fragility, my vulnerability
Allow me to carry on my charade
Allow me to go on thinking I’m strong and brave
My heart is locked up in the highest tower
And I don’t have the key

Joni(1) said love is give and take
But you never gave yourself to me
I had to take you
We all had to take you
That way when things went bad
And they always did
In your heart you were never to blame
I thought I was so in love with you
Now I hope I never see you again

We had fun woman
Our voices sang beautiful harmonies
You smiled me soft and hard
I surprised you when I whispered in your ear
At the Chinese restaurant
And laid my head down on your shoulder for a second
You tore your blouse open in the church parking lot
When I was describing your stature you corrected me
“I don’t have to stick it out.  It’s always like that.”
You were all toughness and fragility
The kind of beauty that never fades
But you were too wild girl
No one could truly satisfy you
Not me, not your husband, not anyone

wish I could cry
and let the sadness pass
even just one warm teardrop
furtively rolling down my cheek
just one shudder
to release and relieve
but men don't do that

cool whistling winds softly whisper
mist and drizzle invite me
dark clouds cooperate
puddles begin to splash
as rain comes to my rescue
hiding me in plain sight

thought I knew loneliness
thought I knew the emptiness
of a heart hollowed out
scooped clean like a gourd
thought I knew the numbing pang
of solitude

her face in the sky
her whisper in the wind
mist and drizzle invite me
dark clouds cooperate
let it rain, let it rain

I saw him soon after he died
on a shelf in the clouds
standing side by side
with at least four others
humanoid beings of soft white light
each emanating a moving wavy luminescence
distinct physical features indiscernible
but no introductions necessary
I knew it was him
he stepped slightly forward to address me
offering a greeting, accommodating hand gesture
although he spoke in an other tongue
the understanding was clear
seeping like osmosis from his mind to mine
he was reaching out from heaven to console us
to let us know he was all right
and at peace
was it a dream?
or a vision?
wishful thinking?
or truth?

she holds her candle high
this tabletop winged statue
this angel of light
lit only at Christmastime
her votive casts two flames
in a tapered, thick walled, coke-bottle-like holder
bright symbiotic beings dancing in tandem
to delightful ying and yang choreography
two flames moving as one
only close inspection reveals
one as actual
the other an image reflected on glass
still, her candle is a two-fer
two flames for the price of one
two tongues of light
speaking in reverence and reflection
in remembrance and honor
like two spirits inseparable
connected beyond time and space
forever

she reaches deep inside me
with her whisperings
sometimes when I feel her presence
I close my eyes to watch her phosphene light show
an electric ultramarine grid against a black field
capturing glowing molecules floating in the sea inside my eyelids
like a cast out fishnet catching tiny bright blue fire flies
perhaps blue is the color of her music
change overcomes me
calmness and clarity
free from fear and pain
I arrive at joy and creativity
moved to play flute, write poems
or work on paintings or collages
enjoying the stillness of the earth
realizing the oneness of existence
at times I’ve wondered where she was
quaking in abandonment's corner
growing older, I’ve come to understand
she never leaves me
I just need to listen for her subtle voice
and close my eyes and see

one winter’s early eave
as I was leaving work
I sat in my old Carolla, facing east
a rainless sky was threatening
promising a cold, windy storm
contrasting light grays, dark grays and blacks
shapes shifting and swimming slowly
like fish in an aquarium

as I sat spying the skyscape
a conspicuous cloud caught my attention
a large, ashen football against a flat dark field
began to split horizontally across the center
slowly opening like eyelids
long, thick lashes connecting top to bottom
when the lashes finally parted
the aperture revealed an angry Asian face
with fiercely focused features
the interaction looked at me without meeting my eyes
I watched mesmerized for moments
then drove home...wondering

back at work, I described the incident
to curious and amazed acceptance
only one poor soul tried to discredit me
poking fun at my “hallucination”
“You don’t have to be afraid, baby”, I replied
“It’s just clouds”

life’s slippery slopeyness
keeping us on edge
moving forward
avoiding Sisyphus’ fate
preparation is paramount
educating ourselves
for proper execution
of meaningful moments
discovery and discernment
stoking passion’s fire
fear of failure and
mediocrity’s nothingness
quieting doubting demon epaulettes
turning our mind’s soil
to aerate our roots
fomenting growth
with no need to impress
others or self
or even think in those terms
exploiting one’s own personal
weaknesses and strengths with
grace sanding smooth
rough passages
today’s deferment is
tomorrow’s regret
posture your head high
with joyous eyebrows
feeling alive
appreciating the privilege
of the fruit of your passion

dreamed I had five fingers on my left hand
that is, five fingers and a thumb
such a curious sight
sat looking at them, thinking
"What the heck is this?!!!"
turned away, then looked again
gave it my best little-rascals-big-eyed-blink
complete with the exaggerated head forward motion
even adjusted my glasses on my nose
still, five fingers and a thumb
decided to wiggle each one individually
just to see what would happen
to see if they all worked
to my surprise the two
next to the index finger
moved in tandem
my dream state couldn't understand it
and kept wiggling them
upon waking I understood immediately:
I had a ******* to give
...I like dreaming

I can still get very sad
if I think about it too much
even though it has been months
I allow myself to cry
at the cemetery
or alone in my office
the thoughts creep into my eyes
the tears' flow is gentle
but unstoppable
the numbness is fading
the insulation wearing off
I was trying to be strong then
now I'm just being me

for some it’s difficult
seeing beyond one’s own nose
anything or anyone different
any opinion opposing their own
seems it’s so hard to see
the other

egocentric mindsets
with the world as their reflection
and any piece that doesn’t fit
their ideology’s puzzle
doesn’t make sense
they paint by numbers
with every color in ever space
preassigned

is it truly so unreasonable
to accommodate another?
especially someone with special needs?
is it so difficult to slowly syllabicate?
is raising your speech level truly yelling?
would it pain you to write things down
for someone who can’t hear you?
do you not trust email over voicemail?

a deaf counselor told me
it’s due to laziness
that people won’t pick up a pen
she may be right
but I think it’s nearsightedness
a myopia of mind and heart
I’d hit them over the head
if I thought it would help

what's it all about
is it just the nerve endings
purely physical
or maybe it's something more
what makes me want to kiss her

her lips' soft luster
the lure of her permission
does she like me too
will she let me taste her warmth
let me show some tenderness

I just want a kiss
to feel her in my closed eyes
feel the surrender
feel her give herself to me
feel her softness against mine


Del Maximo
© July 4, 2009

I understand their frustration
deal with it every day
sighs and exasperation on lips and faces
as I try to read their meaning
wish eyes could look into the glass and see
frustration mirrors
I try not to show it and keep my cool
there's just no point in getting mad...
can't blame anyone else
it's me
and the world I belong to
blessed be the copers
for patience facilitates understanding
blessed be those who won't try harder
...the ones who don't want to talk louder
...or don't want to write things down for me
for they have lives of their own
I understand their frustration
I experience the like everyday
but what's the point in going on with them
willingness is such a nice coat hook
a place for friendships to hang in there
but it's neither right nor realistic
to expect the world to conform to me
instead...I walk away and keep to my place

birth
life
death
rebirth
a rim tone’s soft cry (wah-wah)
emerging above a drum-like
basso profundo
chaotic cadence
harmony in vibrato
a singing bowl’s sustain dying
to be born again and again
the universe without and within
inhaled into the mind’s eye
traversing core’s essence
expelled through nostrils

meditation in slow motion
posture strung from rafters
a twisting waist
yin and yang separate
but equal
beautiful lady wrists
synchronized to calm, deep breaths
a diffused gaze focusing
on quiet power inside you
chi strong enough to stop time
as you move within a cylinder of silence
thinking about nothing
each movement with a memory of its own
a life time in yang long form
closing down to wu shu
the universe within and without
and in each breath
birth
life
death
rebirth

they say the stars are falling
falling from the skies
I see them falling with my eyes
but never heard a falling star cry

I sit and watch the life of leaves
conversing with the breeze
but when I try to eavesdrop
tinnitus’ tones peal

they say the stars are falling
falling from the skies
I used to miss their music
the inflection of their rise

their lyrics became mealy
melodies to mysteries
but I can still feel that baseline beat
and follow lips while watching oldies

birds fly by in silent soar
without flap sound, flutter or tweet
perhaps my heart has gone numb with my ears
I don’t miss it anymore

does loss decrease life’s value
or make it all the more precious

they say the stars are falling
falling from the skies
I see them falling with my eyes
but never heard a falling star cry

so many times I’ve stood alone
without friend or family
family or friend
although we’re all connected
like blocks in a Jenga tower
with fate’s choice pushing and pulling
after the collapse
we stand alone and rebuild
so many dictates in the re-invention
holing up for a while
caught up in ‘musts’ instead of ‘cans’
‘needs’ instead of ‘wants’
limited resources finding a new path
instead of creating one

the front door ajar
ideas breezing in coolness
a yellow porch light
illuminating the climbing tendrils
in my mind
manifesting the cosmos
with blue and red pizza boxes
brown rice and beans
tastes like chicken

communication holds many keys
but which one fits the lock?
so many unexpected turns
so many pieces in life’s puzzle
but I’m good at solving puzzles
every time I fall
I long for preparation H
to soothe my **** hurt
but sometimes when you think you’re drowning
you only need to  stand up
and remember that you’re good
but that’s totally up to me
as it should be
although we’re all connected
we stand alone
we stand alone
although we’re all connected
so don’t leave me in my cave, baby
hit me back to the moon if you have to
hit me back to the moon

Thanks is for getting
for blessings received in life
I give humble thanks
for family and friendships
and friends who become fam'ly

for the laughs and tears
for the learning together
for light and glow of
genorosity's spirit
reminders of angelhood

wouldn't have made it
through valley of death's shadow
without your kindness
but I thank you most of all
for being just who you are

she appeared in a dream
way back in my younger years
a solemn, solitary white woman
kneeling silently at the altar rail
her long brown hair covered
beneath a long white veil
looking like Mary
she spoke not a word
her hands clasped in prayer
we all watched from the pews
mesmerized
without moving, she called my name
sounded like Mrs. Pino
my 5th grade catechism teacher
she kept calling
she wanted me to come forward
to receive recognition or an award
glued to  the kneeler in the pews
I thought to myself
‘Lady, you’ve got the wrong guy’

he appeared in a dream
many, many years later
decades
he drove a red Honda
up to my back porch
in the projects
I often dream of that childhood place
as still home
he got out of the car to address me
tall with faded jeans
gray hoody and sunglasses
obscuring his face
couldn’t even see his skin tone
as if he were purposely unviewable
my unempowered eyes searching
he stood there in glory
looking like a son of man
he wanted to know if I knew him
I kept ogling to see who he was
but I couldn’t tell
he asked again
I didn’t answer
still focusing on ****** features
instead of the all of him
he turned back to the car
got in and drove away
leaving me still wondering

they say the stars are falling
falling from the skies
I see them falling with my eyes
but never heard a falling star cry

I sit and watch the life of leaves
conversing with the breeze
but when I try to eavesdrop
tinnitus’ tones peal

they say the stars are falling
falling from the skies
I used to miss their music
the inflection of their rise

their lyrics became mealy
melodies to mysteries
but I can still feel that baseline beat
and follow lips while watching oldies

birds fly by in silent soar
without a flap sound, flutter or tweet
perhaps my heart has gone numb with my ears
I don’t miss it anymore

does loss decrease life’s value
or make it all the more precious

they say the stars are falling
falling from the skies
I see them falling with my eyes
but never heard a falling star cry

distant fading dulled blue mountains mist
cerulean eyes peek through rolling gray smatterings
rain’s aloneness petering her drops; quiet dribbles splash
outwardly radiant circular wakes renew the fresh
an already illogical current slowly skips over treasures beneath
chaotic babble chants to movements
a river’s concertos streaming in the key of cold
evergreenest grasses sprouting in spurts and clumps
bright colored wildflowers intermittently decorate her ostentatious banks
as he wades in toward the challenge; a thrown gauntlet of smooth rock
a natural outcropping base as platform
he stacks one rock atop another, atop another, atop another
in improbable, impossible, asymmetrical design
ordered without regard to size, weight, shape or color
randomly selecting whatever rocks the river offers
discerning surfaces support point and counterpoint complements
exploiting gravity with unconscious physics and body language
a wiggle this way, a lean that way, trying to find the balance within
“becoming the balance”; feeling it in your core
strong hands breathe stillness
his creation held with steady gaze and o’ so deep concentration
relaxing fingers first; then pulling his arms away to reveal
a consummation of peace
a manmade natural temple; testament to the art of patience
a magnificent mystery
a satisfying moment frozen in time
precariously awaiting eventual collapse

melancholy muse
peering into my blue heart
softly whispering
songs of beautiful sadness
poetry written on sleeves

you helped me find my voice
I will not easily discard it
and your "suggestions" resemble commands
what you call a comfort zone
is me
my feelings
my way of thinking and speaking
my representations to the world
declarations of who and what
I am
contentment can be found there
for there is peace in me
success is formulated
not in well-rounded-ness
but in focusing on one's strengths
and many of my poems were not written
in or for comfort
they were labored in life's pain
I can write in other voices
the full human spectrum is inside us all
I can try different styles and forms
experiments and departures
I have a whole heart
with lifetimes of experience
to draw upon
but in the long run
in the end
even posthumously
I can be only me