“leave at your own chosen speed”

always,
Dylan inserts a phrase that haunts,
indestructible permafrost,
played in slow and ever slower reverb all life long,
for it’s intuitive and you recognize it too well
as the best companion to the sour ending of another love affair

(but! this one differs; called love yourself)

the sad of a dying love, remembering the steady drift away,
capped by a casual remark that doesn’t sting but
cuts a Y on your chest, a lover’s coroner courtesy,
the bad humours permitted to at long last healthy escape

you’re staggered but say nothing for
speed
is a changeable elf, a mischievous devil,
requiring constant monitoring cause you moving,
but the speed limit alway a reflection of the road you’re on

speed is a tag along to show the overall fit still works,
though now far from the obvious and familiar
and the inspiration modifies,
so you retrofit untill the parts are incapable of
bending to new demands, contours unfamiliar, old plans no good

“leave at your own chosen speed”

for I am leaving you as I leave myself,
beaches erode,  lighthouses corrode, the salt cannot be refused,
the earth demands your return as the lease is deemed
non-renewable and the space where the date shall be inserted,
is parcel of the contract and though blank, certain to be fulfilled

the body erodes, the ***** parts corrode,
and this season of the new year^ comes with the usual disclaimer
recited on the tenth day from today

‘who will live, who will die,’^^

taught to you as a young-in, a child who can comprehend
even before manhood arrives, comprehend that life ends,
all good things and it ain’t no use, born compromised, but
“don’t think twice, it’s alright”

the slate you have written overdue for a prudent clean wet erasure,
so you begin to leave at your own chosen speed,
which is kind of nice, even cool, organizing your papers,
write with contented softness that so long eluded,
now come easy heady peasy

after a life of reciting poetry, good bad and always too long,
the pressure is on and off, side by side, even a dimming bulb
sheds some light, revealing what yet needs revealing

that Day of Atonement annual visitor,^^^ he/she of impish humors,
makes Pandora play a new station,
‘dimming of the day,’
reminder that it gave you a piece of an unowned heart to hold,
leased temporarily but the temp is roaring,
who, boo hoo, for you?

life and love is all about leaving,
the pen in penitent gone dry, no refills in this new world,
wish that **** rooster would stop crowing at
the break of sundown,^^^^  when I'll be gone
I'll be travelling on, for when the new day begins,
that’s my own signature personal gravestone marker,
the sundown poet
------------------------------------------------------------­-------



~the first day of the new year on the Jewish calendar
  Mon, 10 September 2018 =  1st of Tishrei, 5779

  Rosh Hashana 5779

For many, August slips away
in a moment of time, weary and heavy,
A dull December. Not everyone
sees Tishrei is next on the calendar.
Let September be September, a new beginning,
turn the narrative that every start is also an end,
And this doesn’t always have to be burdening.

No matter yours truly an atheist,
I consider myself fascinated with my ancestry
x cited regarding: upcoming
Jewish holiday fast approaching
by the bewitching hour which doth hold key
to Chamber Of Secrets to – me
analogous being Sorcerer's Apprentice
as you will read and see,
though impossible mission
to proffer extensive family tree.

Courtesy of Google, this grown man
linked in with tribes of Zion
indulged curiosity of mine
proudly harkens, (particularly
as he doth accumulate orbitz around the sun)
from Semitic ancestral line
surrounded by Jewish community
(countless years ago,
when we called Penn Valley
our place of residence)
off a street that arches
(like Noah’s bow sprint)
and named Woodbine.

Yet, he knows virtually nothing
about Jewish History
lets inquisitiveness wander
as a descendent from the “Lost Tribes Of Israel”
pondering how his life would be lived
if baptized in customs, faith, and religion
considered one of the oldest codified paradigms.
  
The first of the High Holy Days
or Yamim Nora'im ("Days of Awe")
celebrated on the first two days of Tishrei
the first day of the seventh month as "Zikhron Teru'ah"
("A memorial with the blowing of horns").

Rosh Hashanah is described as "the day of judgment"
(Yom ha-Din) and "the day of remembrance"
(Yom ha-Zikkaron)
occurs 163 days after the first day of Passover (Pesach)
beginning of Rosh Hashanah  
at sundown at the end of 29 Elul.

The evening before Rosh Hashanah day is known
as Erev Rosh Hashanah ("Rosh Hashanah eve").

On Rosh Hashanah day,
religious poems, called piyyuttim,
are added to the regular services.

A special prayer book,
the Mahzor is used
on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

This sacred day, the horn doth blow to chauffeur
(two precious daughters
now grown and autonomous
didst long since exit and escape
parental basket of deplorables,
where freedon beckoned,
when age of consent attained
exited out front door)
marginally linkedin with historical past
replete with tantalizing lore
where legions of commandments pour
and more relevant than ever
as global tempests roar
atrocity diminishing Hebraic peoples
courtesy incessant pograms and war.

Began at sunset
on Friday, Sept. 15,
and ends at sunset
on Sunday, Sept. 17.

No matter yours truly an atheist,
I consider myself
fascinated with my Semitic ancestry
(maybe unwittingly genealogically
linkedin with unsuspecting readers)
excited regarding: upcoming
Jewish holiday(s) fast approaching
by the bewitching hour,
which doth hold key
to Chamber Of Secrets to – me
analogous being Sorcerer's Apprentice
tendering, and kindling Goblet of Fire
as you will read and see,
though impossible mission
to proffer extensive family tree.

Courtesy of Google, this grown man
linkedin with tribes of Zion
indulged curiosity of mine
proudly harkens, (particularly
as he doth accumulate
orbitz around the sun)
from Semitic ancestral line
surrounded by Jewish community
(countless years ago,
when we called Penn Valley
our place of residence)
off a street that arched
(like Noah’s bow sprint)
and named Woodbine.

Yet, he knows virtually nothing
about Jewish History
lets inquisitiveness wander
as a descendent from
the “Lost Tribes Of Israel”
pondering how his life would be lived
if baptized in customs, faith, and religion
considered one of
the oldest codified paradigms.
  
The first of the High Holy Days
or Yamim Nora'im ("Days of Awe")
celebrated on the first two days of Tishrei
the first day of the
seventh month as "Zikhron Teru'ah"
("A memorial with the blowing of horns").

Rosh Hashanah is described
as "the day of judgment"
(Yom ha-Din) and
"the day of remembrance"
(Yom ha-Zikkaron)
occurs 163 days
after the first day of Passover (Pesach)
beginning of Rosh Hashanah  
at sundown at the end of 29 Elul.

The evening before
Rosh Hashanah day is known
as Erev Rosh Hashanah
("Rosh Hashanah eve").

On Rosh Hashanah day,
religious poems, called piyyuttim,
are added to the regular services.

A special prayer book,
the Mahzor is used
on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

This sacred day,
the horn doth blow to then chauffeur
(two precious daughters
now grown and autonomous
didst long since exit and escape
parental basket of deplorables,
where freedon beckoned,
when age of consent attained
exited – rather hightailed out front door)
marginally linkedin with historical past
replete with tantalizing lore,
where legions of commandments pour
and more relevant than ever
as global tempests roar
atrocity diminishing Hebraic peoples
courtesy incessant pograms and war.