Thursday, August 21, 2014

The Days

Eskimos are said to have
dozens of words for snow they perceive.
The type of snow depends on the temperature,
the humidity, the day, among other things.

I will come back to this
but let me digress here:

Thinking about Home today.
I have had apartments and houses,
been in cities and mountain villages
and islands and a deathbed, too.
Had to think about Life and what 
in the world I am doing wanting more as I lay
there scared, crying, reading to pass the time,
chatting with the pony-tailed male nurse
who loved Bukowsky, had big Roman eyes
that blinked with the calm I imagine
professional angels possess.  
I wish I remembered his name.

After I was out I read that
gratitude's tears are more beautiful;
crystaline under the microscope:
the guy who'd written the article
had asked the monks and the scientists
and the Eskimos.

He didn't ask me but I would have confirmed it.
When you are dying, you definitely want to be filled
with gratitude.  And being that you never know
when that will be, you might as well keep yourself
filled up good and plenty.

I'm running, I'm going, I'm moving.
I'm curious about you, Life -- and Death,
I know you're there, but I am not so curious anymore --

and I 
just can't believe in only one religion,
one right way to Love other than
completely and, ideally, with absolutely
no violence.  Impossible as it seems
given the human narrative till now.

I got no home,
no roots, but I've got leaves;
no nest, but wings and a brain
like a whale with her mouth open
from the Arctic toward the equator 
and back just to feed well and mate
in better conditions.  Since the beginning
of time the beasts of air and water travel
with a purpose.

New worlds (and by "worlds" I mean
cultures and peoples): one beautiful in this way
the other in that.  All with an Exit sign
over a door somewhere
that, somedays, you glance at
and want to sneak out of.

Being without a home, in this way, is
strange and sad and exciting
depending on the day.
And each feeling can produce it's own
variety of tears if they get intense enough,
if you let those chemicals fill you full,
paint your view, major or minor
the notes in the song of whatever language surrounds; 

but, of course,
it depends on the mood, the context
of my feelings, the day.














Water has a tetrahedral molecular configuration that resonates with the fabric of the vacuum geometry and is thermodynamically inversed: it is the only element that expands when cooled and contracts when heated.