His legacy is large
as he leaves his
life-sustaining technology
behind..
He leaves behind also
this quote:
"The greatest enemy of
knowledge is not ignorance,
it is the illusion of knowledge."

Knowledge
often masquerades
as wholeness
claiming more than
its limited span..
Knowledge as thought
appears in our Self
is made of our Self
but cannot know
our infinite Self...

Our Thanks, Stephen Hawking...

I listened to my inner voice....
When I was filled with fear, when I learned at a young age that real monsters do exist and they are not like the ones in any story book I ever read. The monsters stole away any normal childhood that I could of or should of had.  Pain muted my words from flowing and poisoned my thoughts into growing... this is why I trusted no one.  
At the time I had no other choice... when I was
really the only friend I could totally depend on and count on
I listened to my inner voice...


I listened to my heart...
When all I could hear was a pounding in my ears, when all around me was like a crazy chaotic whirlwind screeching like a barred owl that would then break apart into tiny pieces and sink into a cold abyss forgotten by the sea.  I couldn’t forget the grief as it was real and still inside me. There was a brokenness about me my
heart was fragile and it balanced on the tip of my own desperation
but still I listened to my heart...
          
I listened to the words...
Slowly but surely I was able to come out from that darkened sea and was finally able to try and heal me. Words became my saving grace. I learned to not have muted lips and could give myself a fighting chance. I was able to tear down some of those protective walls to try again to live only in this moment without the armor and the hesitation. Writing became my new love... together we became an inseparable piece of one existence...
I felt so much better after I listened to the words ....

I hear it
half in the bag of blankets
with an empty glass of wine
dumped
Between--
the furnace rumbling on
and the cat purring on my lap

"What the hell!"

That foreign sound!--

...of water in the winter
Far too cold for rain
more like a forest stream's refrain
I start to think of birds-- Then it occurs

I have a problem in the basement

Wading into the waters of Lake Laundry
Glancing warily for those snakes of wires
suspended from their rafter's limbs
about to spit and snag me
with their lightning strike

Slamming that ****
to make it go--
away--

Defeat
dripping off
jeans and unders
A clothes line pinned
with curses

Ah yes.
The smell of the Tide ...
going out
on another day

I had been dreaming
about eating bruised peaches
that grew from a tree
by the river, its water
thick and sweet as sap.

I thought I saw an old woman
shaking her dustmop,
but it was only the moon
and stardust in the dark
that never stops.

In the fields
there was something barren
like a journey
and echoes of salt
sprinkling on a table
with food laid out for a wake.

The fog from the dream
by the river was smothering;
I was suffocating lying there
where it is said a young mother
once walked into the water
with the pockets of her dress
stuffed full of smooth rocks.

I woke when I heard
shouting that tore out the light
as night came flying by
like a bird dressed for a feast
wearing his finest black feathers.