On Being a Father

For Shyla -Being a father is not a suit or a mask or a performance…it permeates each and every manifestation of self, it is intertwined and woven into the entirety of the concatenation of self, from the moment of a child’s birth…our current modes, society, communal cultures often break away from this truth, as father’s abandon their children…but it is an undeniable truth, as a father, you are changed, your child is an integral part of you, just as you are an integral part of your child…as a father, it is my privilege, and I embrace the responsibility, to strive […]

January 1, 2011

Objective subjectivity

-Life is a life-long process; a series of decisions, choices, possibilities, lost and found strands of personal story in a chaotic complex system; governed by the conflict of reconciling subjective perspectives with the only tool we have-which often fails-language. It means what it means dependent on the philosophy/spirituality embraced, all of which remain ambiguously true to each subjective embrace. None of us exist together in the same world ever. Thus, everything means and does not-objectively, but never subjective. There is no figuring it out collectively, only individually and personally.

December 23, 2010

Ode to Uncle Walt

-Oh me, oh life Of the possibilities and strands which still exist the many variant paths still to be met the footfalls and quivers which do not rest the mind and imagination frenetically creating fantastical forms in flux movements and sequences still shaping Oh me, oh life Take breath, take heart each new moment a new start each new day brings its rain each mildew crested sunrise washing what has been away breathe deep, be whole stand still, then go Oh me, oh life The powerful play goes on and you, may yet, contribute a verse…

December 20, 2010

Morning mourning

-The morning of death   we mourn the dead   no, not death, not the dead   we do not mourn the dead   we do not mourn   that death takes the dying   it is the fleeting of possibility   the defeat of what could be   too suddenly becoming   what could have been,   far too quickly–   to ever dream of being.   It is not those that leave   we mourn;   it is those who stay,   and what they will not create.   It is not the dead we mourn;   it […]

July 4, 2010

another landing.

-The horizon tilts. The world becomes different. If only momentarily, the quotidian is allayed. There is a freedom in the gasp for breath. The not knowing; will everything turn out? It will all be all right. It always is. But, there is always the not knowing. This may be the moment it all turns. The trope which ends it all. Not a trope at all. It’s not. The horizon returns to its antithetical position. A straight line concealing a universe of possibility. Everything encompassed in the possibility of troping without a trope. That gasp, that breath, that not knowing. It […]

March 30, 2010

u and i…a trope

-space evaporates and the miles between the u and the I fade to find these side by side, a trope of a trope of a trope…the u an I remain outside the trope, still distant…still, continents in their own drift…towards some ephemeral bliss…or the hope of this blissful ephemerality…an illusion, which only momentarily, finds breath…

March 24, 2010

A note inside my head…or the note which was a note inside my head…now a blog post…

-It seems we’re there now. Never had a moment to think things through. In the lost breath shed between attempts at clarity, the cycle continued. Life. It is a wave that rolls and before you can regain your balance, it’s coming back your way. You roll with it, or almost float with it. A big gulp of salty suds. Perhaps better than tears. Grit your jaw and hoist your chin above to the sea salt air. The rocking ship will not abate. Would you want it to? Lost equilibrium is better than none at all. Who needs a touching down? […]

March 22, 2010

a minimalist beginning

–the whimper of the world’s turning the tiny question   …does it matter…   everything fades by evening a trace of our moment’s left   That ethereal breath     a halogen Dissipates the rich color of life   sleeping without dreaming, ever the pallid palette   Over a billion faces   the same thoughts regurgitated tell the same stories   failed voices creak the rustling of thought   heard for millennia

January 14, 2010

Getting past a beginning

-In the whimper of the world’s turning, comes the tiny question…does it matter…as everything fades by evening’s light, how much of a trace of our moments will be left. That ethereal breath returns, all moments feel lit by a halogen and the rich color of life dissipates into the pallid palette of sleeping without dreaming, ever. If for a moment it could be believed these moments haven’t already existed a million times. As if, in the most naive of mind sets, one could believe that there was uniqueness left in the trajectory of this globe. Over a billion faces. All […]

January 8, 2010

what was never there

-Numb after the long day    (each day a lifetime)previous breaths resurface    (the scent of absence)each lifetime hollowed by want    (nothing reaches resolution) A recursive lesson springs out of breath    (each day has its breath)each breath fades into oblivion, erasure    (the mind holds only the moment)the lifetime is dispersed like exhalation    (the day is blurred to one moment) Oblivion; everything and nothing indiscernible    (erasure marks the remaining image)the absence is weight, the removed    (what was never there remains also)the permanence of stars, fallen and shining            (the latent remnants of experience)

May 20, 2009