digits

base two
flying through us
filling the dark and light
charting rhyme
with reason
telling the story of syllables
with code

the combination operating
creating a composition
in summation, a product
switched toward a single point
an entity
united in entirety

waving they denote
yes or no
north or south
nothing or something
that matters

mapping our relationships
pointing to our visions
counting our feats
of strength and weakness
etching into the record
our story

pointing, prodding and griping
carrying us away
carrying us toward
the one digit
that is more than a bit
more than the sum of us all

Thirst

I am a sponge
Sitting in the middle of the desert
Rolling on the shifting sands
Waiting for the deluge
Or a drop

From the suppliers
Who seem to have departed
Hopefully for only a short vacation
And not in their final Elysium
Never to satisfy me again

My demands are not great
No swim in the Mediterranean is demanded
Not even a bucket of Gatorade is necessary
Maybe just a few tears from Zeus
Or even a trickle of piss from a satyr

Something to work with
To suckle and savor the moist
To refresh and revive
The dormant, the spirit, the joy
So I can swim away again

enjoy the transition

between acts
the inaction
is an act too
three and four
and more
and more….

between lives and deaths
gaze at the glory
be amazed at the show
at the stoplight
in the check-out line
at a funeral

between night and day
as the players from all corners
of our chords and dendrites
step on stage
to give us another look

between positions
no need to rush
stay in touch
admiring
imagining
planning
the next position

between breathes
in the silence
when distractions float away
when we can absorb it all

The Bus

Hunger sits in the far back
looking menacing but strapped in
helpless and ineffective

Shy guy stands
the empty seats have neighbors
and he cannot bear social intercourse

Ego sits right behind the driver
asking for no other opinion
he reaches and intrudes
nudging the wheel to his satisfaction

The Scheduler takes up two seats
one for him
and one for his clipboards and clocks

The Athlete finds the most comfortable seat
to rest his weary back
and contemplate his diminished reflexes

The Poet sits near a window
drifting with the changing scenery
sometimes napping
always dreaming

The Peaceful one changes seats often
he is chased by them all
but never caught

The Driver makes all the stops
but he doesn’t always open the door

the volcano

the tremors surface
from deep within
shaking the seemingly
peaceful existence

no notice is given
but the furnace of turbulence
bursts in from the distance
breaking the silence
disrupting the calm

the explosive sounds of turmoil
centered someplace remote
for now
shaking, knocking, roaring
and finally opening

the portal to emerge
without blessing from the top
which fervently, but futilely, resists
until the venting can no longer be contained
for the rupture demands attention

the retort to be considered
or not
a moment to listen for the cause of the tremors
or feed instantly on the combustion
furious, shocking and full
of awe shucks folks
sorry about that collateral damage

responding without meditation
without mediation
spraying the fire and the fury
in an attempt to extinguish
the shouts
silenced with shots

the smoke does not clear
the ash does not settle
the surging lava continues to accumulate
the debris of the Others
still, the desperation does not dissipate

creating more
tectonic disruptions
creating more
disastrous eruptions

Justifying the Ramblings

Obscurity is in the eyes
Of the unbeholder
The source not pointless
To the sharp creator
He who cares very little
If he is the only one
That feels the thrill

If others are able to see
A smile may appear
Something scared shared
The creation communicates
And his heart does soar

While something not yet shared
Does not diminish
The excitement

The Storm Season

The rain falling
on the walls that you build
contains the blood, the sweat and the tears
of those you hope to exclude

Their fluids lubricated your rise
Their toil and treasure manipulated
The bones they received gnawed upon
under threat of loss

Their jobs, their homes, their health
Now gone, or going
or you just don’t really care
what happens to them
because there are no windows in your wall

But the climate change expands
Shrinking the borders
Raising the water line
Elevating the pool
Until it overflows your wall

Surrounded

Concealed in plastic bags
Camouflaged as potential gifts
Dresser drawers their bunker
The attic bloated
The unmarked boxes multiply

Behind enemy lines
I go unnoticed
Discarding the forgotten
Or the flagrant fragrance
Their leader perplexed

But they reinforce
Every weekend
Vacations become recruiting missions
Gathering they conspire
Burdened I expire