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Finding New Ways To Get Myself There
In the clear cold light of today
under a cloudless sky somewhere between
Pantone Ethereal Blue (15-4323 TPX) and
Pantone Bonnie Blue (16-4134 TCX)
Forever called “a nine-eleven sky”
A Discovery
A “crossroads” is when life provides a choice
your ophthalmologist asking
“is one better - or two - one - or two”
Options individually separate and distinct
Take the elevator or the stairs
Paper or plastic
A “turning point” by comparison posits
whether an action is taken
or not taken at all
An event to happen or not even considered
like a long walk down a short plank
Should I stay or should I go now?
Abandoning the world of bits & bytes
for the world of the real since we all know
non-fiction is usually stranger than fiction
So goodbye to this poem that will never exist
in the clear cold light of the day
A human sits before me for conversation
When I close my eyes to imagine what my life looks like
the one image that consistently summarizes it all
is that of a frame-filling closeup of a cat face
Not a Big Cat like the giant ill-advised panther tattoo
on my age’s-ago woman friend’s shoulder blade
but of a domestic feline like my dear pal, Max
Different than Max though in many ways
The face of the cat that most represents
all that is my existence is unique and consistent
And I do admit that that ill-advised panther tattoo
which was someone else’s representation of my being
Was (or still is) totally bad ass
I can close my eyes right now and see that cat face
my life summary image looking at me at all times
following me around like the moon everywhere
It brings me comfort and consistency
and reminds me that all the tinkering and toil
always falls under the same furry purring umbrella
I am right now writing this poem about what I feel when I am confronting time now that I am beginning to understand time better
But I do not know how to write a poem because I do not know how to write but there are these thoughts and feelings about things
If I am not actively producing then I am convinced that I am actively dying because non-productive time feels like nightmare quicksand
When the hearty immortal and self-delighted child actually glimpses the end game for the very first serious time
A first really clear view into the very drudgery turmoil and misery the third act brings and there are never any encores
When desperation and neuroses are no longer feared but embraced as methodologically sound sources of comfort and safety
Acceptance that this “bit” has been fully purchased for the full non-refundable retail sticker only someone woefully unprepared would pay
Perhaps it works for somebody somewhere somehow sometime because for all the “it doesn’t really matter” bluster it has always mattered
We blindly speed on this “one time only” thrill ride only to discover that planned obsolescence never accounted for brakes (breaks)
Basically we are all helplessly hurled through time and space randomly out of control until we simply deplete all of our fuel
As much as we fight and as much as we protest probability suggests that we will not be the very first champions over time
So what we are aging and we realize that not only will we die forever but will suffer all of the many injustices and indignities of destiny
Lest we forget old Bob Southey's old fable
concerning a trio of anthropomorphic bears
and a vixen represented as
a tween girl or elderly woman historically
Timeless yet admonitory course on
Harmony Ownership and Privacy
--
Goldilocks
Flowery Feminine and Petite
a hungry and tired interloper
Trapped under-served drifter
or greedy entitled long-con artist
of dubious purpose and intentions
--
A hardworking Papa
Consistent Deliberate and Reliable
aching for a tufted warmth
Beneath his furry sadness
The weight of everything
flattening mountains into bedrock
--
The dearly beloved Mama
Elegant Beautiful and Sturdy
balancing and managing complexities
For self and sector
ever-nurturing chief executive
warm and sweet inside like a decadent pastry
--
And our Baby
Chosen Golden and Perfect
all windows wide open
With freedom to roam wide and far
youthful future unlimited
a tiny shooting star in all of infinity
--
Cautionary and instructive
lessons of craft and persuasion
The outlaw caught
Or the one who got away
Perhaps the moral defending
Trial Discovery and Paradigm Management
--
[slideshow]
Concept and art direction by Danielle Evennou
It has been 4,505 days since 9/11© and all I can think about is art:
No Grants
No Shows
No Likes
No Favorites
No Competitions
No Hearts
No Charts
No Reblogs
No Pics
No Hits
No Sales
No Comparisons
No Contracts
No Deadlines
No Retweeting
No Screens
No Fame
If you cannot carefully stuff it into your suitcase and transport it by bus or train or airplane or car
If you cannot carefully wrap and ship it to the other side of the continent for someone to love
Your beloved art should thrill even with the electric and network grids switched to “off”
I. Connection through disconnection
A trust thorough and complete with
all of the pieces ultimately fitting
together with near perfection
The execution phase becomes one of
careful and dutiful assembly of a
blank jigsaw puzzle still in its sealed plastic bag
Still in the unopened box
II. Magical times where
Thought and intent synchronize
An always forward propulsion despite
Physics and all human burden
Attempted barricades of little consequence
Fun made impossible
The choices we make are sad but true
Playing out in near-perfect analogy
III. The union of dyads
Rather than the generally ignored
billboards along packed highways
Color and sound for deaf and blind
Eye-to-eye and word-for-word
When all along
swimming in the deep end
was always the goal
for the summer
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