Friday, April 30
Seems like I’m caught in perpetual motion
Running, hurrying, scurrying
world rushes by
in fast forward as I
Move languidly as if trapped on the ocean
resisting, floating, waiting,
bumping the shore
in a quest for more.
Still, quiet preponderance says
listening, thinking, surrendering to what life has abundant
leave it alone
and you’ll be home.
And, in contrast, a poem by someone who's really, ya' know, a poet.
Stripping and Putting On
by May Swenson
I never wanted a patch of this earth to stand in,
that would stick to me.
I wanted to move by whatever throb my muscles
sent to me.
I never cared for cars, that crawled on land or
air or sea.
If I rode, I'd rather another animal: horse, camel,
or shrewd donkey.
Never needed a nest, unless for the night, or when
winter overtook me.
Never wanted an extra skin between mine and the sun,
for vanity or modesty.
Would rather not have parents, had no yen for a child,
and never felt brotherly.
But I'd borrow or lend love of friend. Let friend be
not stronger or weaker than me.
Never hankered for Heaven, or shield from a Hell,
or played with the puppets Devil and Deity.
I never felt proud as one of the crowd under
the flag of a country.
Or felt that my genes were worth more or less than beans,
by accident of ancestry.
Never wished to buy or sell. I would just as well
not touch money.
Never wanted to own a thing that wasn't I born with.
Or to act by a fact not discovered by me.
I always felt like a bird blown through the world.
But I would like to lay
the egg of a world in a nest of calm beyond
this world's storm and decay.
I would like to own such wings as light speeds on,
far from this globule of night and day.
I would like to be able to put on, like clothes,
the bodies of all those
creatures and things hatched under the wings
of that world.
Really. powerful. stuff.
But here's one for fun.
by George Bilgere
Someone's taken a bite
from my laptop's glowing apple,
the damaged fruit of our disobedience,
of which we must constantly be reminded.
There's the fatal crescent,
the dark smile
of Eve, who never dreamed of a laptop,
who, in fact, didn't even have clothes,
or anything else for that matter,
which was probably the nicest thing
about the Garden, I'm thinking,
as I sit here in the café
with my expensive computer,
afraid to get up even for a minute
in order to go to the bathroom
because someone might steal it
in this fallen world she invented
with a single bite
of an apple nobody, and I mean
was going to tell her not to eat.