W[eigh]ting

So now I’ve been waiting 6.5 hours this week
For something to happen that will give me more life
Or fill the productal void of my daily rhythm
Making it possible to keep going on the continuum
Of things that happen or you happen to others
And I wonder I query
When the waiting will take on the signifying signs
Beyond the tick of time
To become what was worth the waiting in the first place.

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Port to Air

Standing
Breathing waiting
Sleeping wishing
Cough cough
Whisper buzz
Can I charge here?
Little kid boy baby
Huge bags
Bag bag everywhere
Colors mostly black or sad or old
Who knows you?
Can you read my name on the ticket?

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Michigan Sky

Velvet isn’t always black or dark or deep.
Sometimes it’s sharp and clear and high
Like a Michigan sky.

The loveliest silk washed o’er the high ways,
Frosty tops and homespun bellies
Bulging with the lake-weary winds
Turning home to the dry prairie tickles.

My green soul leaps with the cherry-throated grosbeak
To meet the goddess of the Air full-stretched across my face.

The lush season of the sunbeams is nigh
And many a pliant wood rejoices in the un-freeze.
Wrap us up in cattail down and tuck into the summer.

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The Glad Daemon of Kalamazoo

Did I tell you about the time my heart

tripped over its trailing guts and

fell into your soul?

The rain fell softly that day, so steady

that its sound receded to the quiet

places behind my thoughts.

Fold me tenderly into your routine

Tell me I’m a lovely creature

As the hours tick by

Until my demise.

 

Black curtains are crawling up my spine

But Rose Red will tell you all about whence they came

When finally the hem-hawing of my youth rescinds.

Heather brushes my cheeks with scents

of happier days

As the light above my eyes illumines

your expanse

Furry Time cinches itself together

in a colorful pull

across your ancient brow;

Mad stories cuddle into smile lines

around your gleaming mouth.

Somehow, you rhyme.

And therein lies the shape of your first,

Glad daemon of Kalamazoo–and White Lake, too.

The Best Parts of Life Have No Record

Bahaha! *laughing and crying simultaneously*

Bahaha! *laughing and crying simultaneously*

I watched a film tonight about hunting Nazis—prosecuting war criminals using documentation, interviews, eye-witness accounts, etc.

Quite apart from the obviously incendiary content, the film threw me into contemplation of the past two and a half months of my life.  Months, which according to this blog, never existed.  Months, which according to my iCal were completely unpopulated with events.  Months, which according to my bank account, were only spent eating food and sleeping under a roof—oh, and an occasional theatrical excursion.

There is no record of the 1000+ backordered items that my staff and I have delivered to our customers.  Nor of the 13-hour days with only a meal and a half to see me through.  Nor of my emotional, spiritual, or psychological journey from a “college graduate” to a “young adult.”

And yet, all of this and more has happened.  One of the perversities of our digital age of immediacy is that there will forever be a record of the fried baby octopus I ate for dinner a week ago.  But vanished forever in the recesses of my spirit are the undulations of my soul, my connections with other people, my disillusionment with myself.

Facebook, play on.

WordPress, write one.

Heart, beat on.

There is One listening.

Making It Count

Today’s world spins on returns.  What will you get back from what you invest?  Is your profit margin high enough?  Can you administer yourself and continue to proliferate on your current ratio of input to output?

I’m sick of all these questions.

I spent much of my evening giving meticulous methylene blue swabs and dips to an ailing gourami fish, my Rochester, and working on water quality for three guppies and two snails—Aramis, Porthos, Athos; Hikaru and Kaoru.  All of the above will die at a ripe old age within the next 24 months.  Each will have cost me an average dollar amount that is astronomical in proportion to physical size.  And yet, I find it worthy.

There’s a generosity of spirit and selflessness that comes with keeping pets.  And believe me, this is not me tooting my own horn: at quarter past midnight, measuring pH and mineral content isn’t what I’d call exhilarating.  But it is peaceful in a way because it frees one from the stress of self-performance and into something grander than the webs we humans spin.

And I’m thankful to be untangled once in a while.

Piccolo the Algae-Eater's perspective on my life

Piccolo the Algae-Eater’s perspective on my life

Bundling Smalls

My family watches this lovely show on the History Channel called American Pickers.  In short, I greatly admire the show’s premise: assigning value.  It’s a positive practice, assigning value.  Antique shops have the right idea when they describe their activity as “appraising” or “appreciating.”  Reinforcing the elements of worth in an item and its history brings a sense of respect and meaning to pieces of our lives that can easily be overlooked or forgotten.

While I’ve certainly grown in appreciating objects around me, I’m going to take a moment and bundle together the smalls (seconds) of my day into a package deal that I think is worth celebrating 🙂

  • waking up to the sun shimmering through my blinds
  • small little chirps of my parakeets, unsure if I’m awake yet to hear them
  • sitting down on  a hand-embroidered seat cushion made by my grandmother to write a letter at a ladies desk I inherited from her
  • wishing my dad a happy fathers’ day
  • sealing a letter with a heart-shaped sticker
  • getting sweaty on the badminton court
  • diving into the pool, even though I knew it would be a shock of coolness
  • slobbery kisses by my friend’s dog
  • laying on my back on concrete, staring into a sky with flitting bats and the fading sun
  • rescuing a toad from the puppy
  • a game of Twister
  • riding home in my dad’s pick-up with all the windows rolled down
  • hair that smells like curl cream, sweat, bug spray, chlorine, and sunshine
  • snuggling into bed for a good night’s sleep

Sweet dreams!

enjoy the shining moments

enjoy the shining moments