Images

I have a tendency to write as I think, in images. Good or bad, it is what goes on in my head. These images can often appear disconnected when placed upon the page, but it is only because of my limited vocabulary that they appear this way. We think of ourselves as rational and linear in some way, at least I do, it’s how I keep it together for the most part, but I don’t think rational is what we are in truth. I think we exist better with images, with our senses than we do with cold descriptions its why we have the saying a picture is worth a thousand words. 

Here is a poem that may appear disjointed but if you can think of it in a storybook whole context, I think the meaning becomes clear even if they appear to be disconnected images. It’s kind of like seeing the forest for the trees.

                A Life Forever Lost…

His shadow fell so long,

so dark that he tripped

as he came upon the end,

the freefall lasted more than ten million

lifetimes of your average human.

There were soaring highs and crashing lows

among rainbows and moonbeams as,

he tried casting lines to rope them tight before the

miles deep crevices with scorched earth

devored his ego in a hungry bite…

I heard the swallows call his name out of the barn

as the air sparkled gold dust in the heated wind,

daisies bowed knowing their master had just passed them by

traveling the seas of atmosphere, wicked in his speed.

He was too great to see his own passing,

just but a brief touch, a brush, a feeling, a longing

hoping for a speedy return…

Out on the silver shadowed pond

the splash that was the beaver turning over

sent shock waves through forever

dazzling memories that tumbled jaded

like the ever-flowing green creek

jostling his form over rocks and sand

babbling incoherence in the here and now.

Its form an onslaught of static, drowning

out the fact that

        

its tail struck the blow that did him in…

         

Dancing through the fields dressed as monarchs

carrying pots of gold, desperately wishing we could bury them

to unearth later and enjoy as elders

when the brightening future hit him between the eyes

like a bolt shot from a cannon.

He sat and lost his treasure upon the salted earth

And as he failed to gather up his wits

I remember I missed his words

that assembled themselves out of clover…

              I wanted only swallowtails…

These are images which create a whole within my mind. I hope they do the same for you and a meaning comes clear. 

    Apart from yesterdays posts it has been almost 5 years since I have written anything for this blog. It is not that I haven’t been writing, just that I have been writing differently. I feel it is time to get back and here are just a few things I dream, and just maybe what I think it means to dream of Tuscany.

  

    When I dream of Tuscany, I dream of Merli balanced on a wire outside my window discussing the news of their day. Perched as they do, above the soft silvery green of the olive trees, the hot morning sun tossing dust motes in the air. I dream of the narrow roads that take me into worlds never discovered before. Pockets of time standing still, scattered over the landscape like dusty memories within a vast chaotic mind. I dream that it is possible to enjoy a goblet of wine and a plate of salumi, without fear of judgement. I dream of a simpler life, one where the only demands are those of the sun and wind. Could it be a reality? Ever?

   

    I dream we have halted high upon a mountain just past the church and village square because a parade is headed our way. We are stationary forever until we pull the car to the side and we exit to watch. For this isn’t your everyday parade, no. There is the priest. His flock really does consist of goats, and sheep and sure enough there are geese, waddling among the children as if they were kids themselves. And we must join, because the geese are getting out of line and need rescuing from the tall grass, but it is ok, for the day will last forever and all the villagers are there and happy. We have nowhere to be other than that moment so what better dream could there be?

How about the one I have where the sea whispers its own urges within the caves upon the rocky coast. Telling us that the world is not what we think. Where its mothers warm silky touch has us floating among clouds and dreaming dreams within dreams and as the sultry sun flares into the liquid crystal, we believe that life is forever.

   

    When I dream of Tuscany I dream there is future with a very present past. I dream that there is an is to this life; that it isn’t just made of ifs. I dream that there is empathy for the living. That what so many take for granted her is the real truth there. That upon the rise of the sun we can be who we believe we are and trust that the dustbin of our minds will be emptied of trash and filled with memories of love life and forgiveness.

Oh yea, and a bunch of days ago I had this thought:

A day in my shoes

What must it be like?

Waking up without panic in your heart

What must it be like?

Not having loved ones tear you apart

When will the sun shine for real

Who’s gonna help me heal

What must it be like?

Not fighting the world

What must it be like?

With sails set and unfurled

When will the darkness go

And how will I ever know

I have reached serenity

Can anyone relate? I sometimes feel like I am stuck in a dark tunnel that has been sealed at both ends even though I can walk forever forward. I don't know, it's weird.