Musings
Of The Old Coyote
Denes McIntosh
As with many circumstances in life, some of these musings are folly. And some are not. | The Great Divide Lines forming for food across the great divide along a road mistakenly paved with every good intention, beneath the encompassing shadow of massive castle walls built for those who wish to keep the people hungry
and in lines forming for food across the Great Divide.
I Am Warm As Well
You lay asleep at my feet, curled quietly beneath the blanket that has kept you warm.
I am warm as well just knowing that you are.
Your Love Is Like Lightening Lightening strikes where it will. And when it wants.
After all, it’s not on a timer, and it’s not in our control.
It’s lightning, for Christ’s sake.
It’ll do whatever it likes.
We Are Remembered Christmas cards arranged comfortably together, about three feet high and just as wide, clinging to the wall by the door, reminding us that we are remembered.
A Tree In The Room Christmas morning with family, ornaments and lights adorning an otherwise naked tree.
I like the lights and decorations so thoughtfully arranged.
And I like the tree unclothed as well.
You can’t go wrong with a tree in the room.
Dog Vs. Slick Hardwood Floors Trying to walk on slick hardwood floors in the very early morning, your claws scraping like nails across an old chalkboard.
Your grip all but gone as you skid and slide along the surface begging for your feet to cling to something that will not allow the temporal imbalance, or the frightening insecurity.
Both your ferocity and your dignity severely compromised this morning by a casual dose of the mundane.
Like A Diner Thanks A Waiter For A Meal In the stillness I can hear the sound of the unspoken. I can see the shape of shifting shadows filling once empty spaces in the room where I sit.
Sometimes these random awakenings are more restful than the sleep. And sometimes they are not.
My friends have come tonight, and my brother. All have passed before me, before my time, and before my turn. I can feel the unambiguous presence of their visitation, as if it were the imprint of my life.
There are those who have dismissed me for the way I’ve been affected by death. As if they know me well enough to know my grief. As if I should shoulder the loss like a diner thanks a waiter for a meal.
They don’t know my relationship to death. to them.
Maybe love is something other than accepting, without question, the foregone conclusion of one’s faith.
Faith is one thing. And death is another.
Your Remarkable Silhouette I traced the skyline with my finger, accounting for every treetop and mountain.
With Myself Wind whipping waves on a Spring mountain lake. Birds gliding by without effort. I snuggle with myself against the cold.
Around In Circles Around in circles she ran. Like a hamster on a wheel. Like a junkie getting high. Like a dog chasing his tail. Like a man seeking love in a strip club.
Talking To Herself My dog stood barking at ducks on the water, her voice on a half-second delay. As it echoed from a distant granite canyon she forgot about the ducks and began an animated conversation with herself.
Behind Your Eyes I could see the bottom of the lake as if it were the soul behind your eyes.
Rest-Less I’m restless from too much rest.
I guess I just need to rest less.
But I’m tired of being restless and could use a good nap. Calm After The Storm Eternal respite from the ravages of time. The Calvary after the Little Big Horn.
Casual Deception The rocks were scattered inadvertently, by design.
His hair was styled carefully to look inadvertent.
The Marriage Agreement He pretends that he's a grown man. And she pretends he's not.
Inevitability Logs float until they get saturated, and then they drown.
Like the privileged get water logged, and sink in self- indulgence.
Survival Of The Biggest Pacman clouds gobbling each other up for lunch.
Without Dimension Clouds floating unencumbered, drifting in slow motion in no particular hurry, without boundary without a fixed dimension, appearing, somehow, as if they couldn't possibly even be there.
Gimme Your Space An Osprey scanning for fish while I wait to see it dive. A Bald Eagle holding court, lakeside, atop a towering Pine.
Another Osprey intent on intimidation, trying to chase the Eagle from its perch, not because he needed that particular tree for himself, but because he didn't want the Eagle to have it.
Like a rich 'environmentalist' buying up all the earth around his obscenely palatial estate.
Sinister Intentions Contrails forming their positions overhead, flooding the sky with vapor, flooding my mind with suspicion, my lungs with poison, my eyes with irritation. A sinister intent to change the weather.
And to keep us paying our HMO's
Harmonic Convergence Natural magic Cerulean blue Sky meets water Like I met you.
The Theft Of Our Equilibrium CNN lecturing us in the bank. Fox News preaching in the barber shop. ESPN screaming in the local pizza joint. PBS pontificating in the urban cafe.
Every moment of our day some media bandit trying to steal our peace.
Congress Dancing Pelosi. Perennial narcissist. Flapper of the House.
The face of us is the farce of us.
Eyes Wide Open I'm a man who's learned from his Ms. steaks
Puddles Getting Deeper Rain falling Hard like the reputations of once honorable men who have succumbed to the influence of ethical mediocrity.
Puddles getting deeper by the day.
Full Moon Full moon in a midnight sky Werewolf moon Fog shrouded night Clouds riding by
in the moonlight.
Somethin' just ain't right tonight like creatures crawling beneath my skin giving me the heebie jeebie's.
I can taste death in that ominous fog, in the sweet, seductive moisture sticking to my paralytic tongue, clogging up the pores on my face, lingering there like
poison.
Full moon in a midnight sky Werewolf moon Fog shrouded night Clouds riding by
in the moonlight.
Somethin' just ain't right tonight.
Healing Time is the salve that eventually softens every wound.
Doctor Visit I was not invited for a visit. I had to ask if I could come.
That having been said, she must have known I wasn't feeling well, which would explain why I was never offered the usual intimate conversation, a hot brandy,
and some warm cherry pie.
The Waiting Room Waiting in the waiting room, where there is no room really to do anything but wait.
Sterile Environment I'm reluctant to touch anything here, for fear its austere disposition might contaminate me.
Inevitable Reduction She wanted to know how tall I was.
I told her I was 6' 3", but that was before shrinkage.
I'm 6'2" now, and well aware that 6' 3" was as tall as I was ever going to be.
Age not only reduces the days we have left on earth, but it cuts us down to size as well.
Together "Are you two together?" she asked. "Sometimes", I said, depending on the strength of the glue."
"What glue are you using?" she asked. I said, "Whatever seems to be working
at the time.
The Drive As I was driving down the mountain in the rain I spoke again to that old master gardener even though he was busy watering the fields.
And on the ride back home up the mountain I just listened to what he had to say.
The Gesture A bald eagle flew by this morning just overhead and dipped his wing to my canoe.
I tipped my hat back at him to acknowledge the gesture.
Before You Disappeared Mirror image of the forest in the water. Recollections of how you were. Present in the flesh.
Elusive, however, as your own reflection. But that was long before you disappeared.
The Welcome Mat Bear scat where we landed our canoe. Left there, I presume, to welcome our arrival. Mountain Pup Chica, flopping, plopping, contorting, cavorting around the lake shore this morning. Dopey, loping, Dobie pup, just eighteen weeks old, jumping, prancing, dancing like a lion cub, wrestling with herself, and with the wind. Beginning to explore dimensions yet unknown to her, undiscovered by the energy that is her rapidly emerging nature. A pup in paradise, enhancing my pleasure, and my own sense of wonder. Carefree Summer Day You shook the water from your back, and wet the world around you. Then rolled in that refreshing patch of heaven. For Both Of Us Little man asleep in his car seat. Long morning out in the wind watching those Ferraris burning up tires, and track at the Infineon. A little boys delight. A grandpa’s delayed adolescence. Something there for both of us. A Big N. O. He called with a big N.O. That’s ‘No’. Rigid. Can’t tolerate any change In the status quo. Even though it would mean participation in the stream of blessing. Kisses The creek rises up to tickle my feet Like a lap dog licking my face. Another Swig Of Coffee From the pot to the cup to the lips to the gut to help the body get in gear, and the head to get the work done. The Classroom I remember in school how those in the front row always got ‘A’s’, while those of us in the back row barely got ‘C’s’. But we learned to see the bigger picture, and not just how to parrot information back to please the teacher. The back row of life continues to sharpen those same powers of perception, whether by intention, or by natural design. Clothes Enough Those of us with clothes enough for every occasion have reason to clothe those who don’t with at least a warm winter coat. A pair of gloves, and some wool socks from the top drawer wouldn’t hurt anybody either. Intelligent Design Vs. Random Happenstance The Pyramids Vs. The Lottery Foreign Persuasion Asian mail order brides. They come in small sizes. They come with a smile and a twinkle in the eye. They come with instructions on how to please an American guy. They cum on command with a moan and a sigh. Thoughts Every thought we entertain is given us like data entered from the fingertips of God. We choose what to do with the information. Tulips The first time I kissed you I knew, Tulips are better than one lip. Awakening Creaky old train bouncing through the fields on a clear winter morning, shaking the sleep from my bones, the fog from my dreams. Awakening the light that is within me, the life that is without me. Like a cup of old coffee. A Warm Heart A warm heart cannot be broken. A heart only breaks if it’s brittle. LoveHate He said “I never had the chance to hurt you because you beat me to the punch.” She said “I never had the chance to love you because every time I tried you ducked.” Conflict Of Interest There’s nothing I would like more than to grow hair on my back to keep me warm for the winter. There’s nothing I would like less than to have to shave it for the summer. Thanks For Your Support An ageing wooden table supports my ageing wooden head while I sleep. LifeCycle You wake up You get dressed You go to work You do your best. You come home You get some rest You wake up You get dressed You go to work You do your best You come home to get some rest You wake up . . . . . . . . Living Well Morning sunlight lifting fog from a heavy heart. All things become new again when life flows freely from its source, when blood pumps freshly from the living well. Spiritual Health Live in Peace, rather than in pieces. Eleven Stars There were eleven stars above my head last night. Some might say there were several billion more that I could not see. But to me there were eleven stars. And I saw every one of them. My Own Confession The air is brisk. A hint of rain in the wind. The scent of fresh scat on my broken heel. The carcass of a dead deer crumpled at my feet, decomposing before my eyes. My time-lapse vision capturing its beautiful decay. I hear my own confession in the prayer that I breathe for it, for having been here. As part of my extended family. Known Only To Time I express myself in writing, and in other ways known only to time as I move through it. A Pimple On Its Chin Watching, in the woods. The movement of life around me. Nature would be fine without me. It always has been. I am just a pimple on its chin. I Asked For Shade The tree has grown up over my head while I’ve been sitting on this rock. I Pay Attention I know some things that you don’t know I know about you. Because I pay attention while you’re sleeping. Bird Bath Quite active today. Sparrows splashing around like children in a summer puddle. Like adolescent boys in a backyard swimming pool trying to impress the girls. Like men bragging about conquests they never really made. Like those women flapping their lips every morning on “The View” I Don’t Care About That All night last night time seemed longer than it had the night before. I am stronger than the darkness though, capable of enduring it’s extended visitation. I might have been rude in ushering it’s unwelcome scowl out the door. But I don’t care about that. Selective Hearing The people lost their way when they followed the sound of their own echo. Dirty Harry Fantasy “Whatever you say” he said before ignoring my request. I said “I don’t play that game, my friend, And then I shot the motherf***er dead. Inordinate Privilege Everything is lined up in order. Either in order of privilege, in order of appearance, or in order of importance. Same thing I suppose. Bigger Purses (Misogynist Thinking) There’s all these big trucks everywhere with lots of ladies driving them. Must’ve run out of room in their purses. Delegation Leave it to me to leave it to you to leave it to somebody else. Still Working Shifts I walked around outside of this old factory, abandoned, falling down from years of neglect. I sat beneath a shredded awning on a weathered deck to observe, and absorb the ghosts still working shifts on ancient lathes, machines, and other equipment long-ago rusted, but left to do what they had always done. Like a heated disagreement between neighbors I can hear the metal on metal in need of grease. For The Rest Of My Life Your voice on the phone, like velvet in my sandpaper world. I could stay on the phone with you for the rest of my life. Flowers Peeking In Flowers peeking through mini blinds at the window of my mothers room. Hospital bed raising her head, just slightly, to where the flowers can kiss her tired eyes through lids relaxed just enough to let them rest . The Water Will Carry Itself My mom, laying in I.C.U., breathing machine pumping oxygen into her otherwise quiet body. Mind at rest, for once, heart having been worn down, having carried the burden of her world. Like a servant carrying water through the desert. Rest mother, the water will carry itself now. Rest mother, the water will run downhill. Like My Robe Might Be My Stetson hat lay on the table waiting to be worn, wanting to be engaged with the intent of its design. I sat in a big leather chair wearing a black terrycloth robe, relaxed, like my robe might be were it thrown casually over the lovely shape of your reclining body on the bed. A Blue Pleated Curtain There was a blue pleated curtain hanging on the wall in front of the conference room. Since we were gathered like a congregation in a fundamentalist church I half expected a Pentecostal preacher to emerge from behind the fabric in a fabulous, matching powder-blue suit. Scrupulous Hygiene She washed her hands with water. Then with soap. Then with water once again. With soap one more time. And then with water. Finishing off with an antiseptic wipe, then water. Landslide Rocks falling down unchallenged, unambiguous, unrepentant. Falling where they will. Like the banking collapse, the financial avalanche visited upon the heads of the rest of us. Chronic Degradation He told me “sticks and stones could break my bones, but names would never hurt me.” Truism? Or cheap rationale for the chronic degradation? Vines lined up like soldiers on parade, a full company waiting for inspection. Vineyard stretching wide, like an army spread miles across the otherwise barren valley of Armageddon. Grapes to be plucked by hand, then crushed by feet stained red. The vines will then be plowed, buried like soldiers, once proud, beneath the very earth where they once stood . . . . . . . . . but now have fallen. The soldier for the liberation of our nation. The grape for the liberation of our soul. Shadows casting themselves long behind trees, leaning away from the morning sun, making shapes of their own, expressions of themselves on sparkling grass still wet with dew from the rain. Like we shape ourselves each day we are alive. Fall The leaves don’t actually fall. They slowly work their way free of the branch, the tree. Then calmly float to the ground as if they each had wings of their own. Trust It will rust if you neglect it, if you just let it lay out in the rain. Needs to be rubbed up on occasion, with love, some tenderness, and a good chamois. We Find Our Way I’m fifty-nine, and he’s not quite three. Fifty-six years between us. It took some time for me to live long enough to become his grandpa. Didn’t take him any time at all to become my grandson. Born right into that relationship. But we find our way together. Parking Confusion The curbs are painted blue and green, some kind of environmental thing. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean. They never mentioned it in traffic school. But I like it better this way rather than the concrete gray curbs that commonly line most of the other streets, displaying the usual limited imagination of our elected officials. Another Little Barn We buy these little barns to store all the stuff that we collect. When a barn gets filled up, rather that get rid of some stuff, we just buy another little barn. There Was A Time Blue skies beneath a myriad of satellites flying by overhead, keeping an eye on the weather so they can tell us if we need to wear a coat. I remember a time when we could figure that out for ourselves. The Remainder Of The Day I sat in the dugout with my grandson. He’s just a little kid. He liked the idea of a team, taking turns pretending to bat, and running the bases. The whole ritual thing, the rules, the game chatter, the uniforms, the coaches and all that. In a precious, and unscripted moment, he said to me “you sit here in the dugout grandpa, I’m going to pick the baseball player a flower.” And he did. I carried it with me in my shirt pocket for the remainder of the day. Even Closer I moved away from her for the shade. She moved herself back beside me, but even closer. Rock On The Path I can’t walk on the path. Cause there’s a rock in the way. Relationships have been abandoned for less. Babbling Brooke She was cool. But she had nothing much to say. The Best Of My Remembrance This meadow. The green, and gold. The red, stretching ahead, out before me, deep inside me, far and wide, long, and seemingly unending, like the promise of life. like the best of my remembrance. Waiting Cows. Waiting. For Nothing. Just waiting. Just lazing. Some might say “lazy good for nothings”. I say “waiting is enough in, and of, itself.” Pleasure Of The Ride Our horses followed the trail for hours, steady, confident, unflinching. Like mules carrying gear up the mountain. Canteen slung low across my back, cowboy hat casually shading my weathered face, spurs jingle jangling in rhythm with our own gait, pistol strapped high on my hip in case of an encounter with a hell-bent bandit, a nasty rattlesnake, an angry bear, or a mountain lion with nefarious intentions. I came prepared for both the danger, and for the pleasure of the ride. While I Ride Herd Clouds laying up gracefully in an amber sky, mountains tracing the un-ambiguous horizon, cows moving quietly about the meadow while I ride herd from my hammock. An Unequivocal Moment Her tits smiled at my surprise. Away From It All He stood against the fence post with his dog. Old phone on an even older pole. Calling one last time down the mountain. A static connection, like in life. Tractor standing ready to rumble him away from it all. Don’t Forget To Remember It No time like the last time. The next time might not come. Softly For Herself She was weeping softly, for herself, but also for her sister whom she lost last night to the callous embrace of death. So unexpected, and so final. She will miss her older sister like a meadow would the sparkling morning dew. Parts Of The Whole The leaves were scattered across the ground like pieces of a complex jigsaw puzzle laid out on a large kitchen table. Parts of the whole, waiting to be raked, or placed together with thoughtful deliberation, by careful hands, in a manner meant to complete, and compliment, the picture. At Your Window You buzz me, like the best espresso, or an overly ambitious libido. Like the shock of a young nun dancing naked in a midnight mass. Like lightning striking water where I’m standing peering thru the frosted glass at your window. Messengers Of God This tram ride around the country side, coach crammed tight with eager, appreciative students. Developmentally challenged, every one of them. Archangels of life. Protectors of my own humanity. An opportunity to get them off the medical unit where they live, daily, where they will die, eventually, without fanfare or celebrity, like some have enjoyed for lives which amounted to far less than those lived by these innocent, but profound, messengers of God. Full Medical Coverage The ambulance arrived right on time just as I was about to collapse. I like this insurance plan where they anticipate your decline and are dispatched to collect you before you even hit the ground. Where You Have Always Lived Your voice on the telephone, softly in my ear. I can hear the quiet desperation from deep within that tiny space where you have always lived. I’d like to reach in there, somehow, and pull you through the phone. Or at least give you permission to crawl out on your own. The Bees Must Have Been Listening Sometimes I hear bees talking.
Temperature Rising
Thursday The Biggest Stick On The Mountain He Was That Familiar That man February 29th to say. I lay awake Death Of The Misbegotten International Poetry Competition 3rd Place Winner. The old bulldog Like life Shattered Expectations When I’m Driving
The Only Ones Willing Time Soft clouds formed slowly on a perfect sky, giving it depth and dimension over time. Like wrinkles used to do on your face. Personal Vigilance Nothing gets in without my permission. Unless it sneaks quietly through the back door while I’m not watching. Reverend Moe You wouldn’t recognize Jesus if He walked in the door and turned over the tables of your religious pop idolatry. He was crucified for telling the truth, y’know. What truth would you ever be crucified for telling in your Christian cabaret show? On Being Conscious “I can’t see” cried the blind man. “Then you’re not listening” I said softly. “I can’t hear” shouted the deaf man. “Then you’re not looking” I signed loudly. James Taylor Said “Shower the people you love with love.” Yeah, I know. The faucet runs hot and cold. Moss On A Rock A soft exterior. Like a down coat on a hard man. Ownership Don’t point at me as the source of your displeasure. I’m only the source of my own. Do The Math Don’t resent me. Augment me. Dismissal He said “You’re getting better.” She said “Whatever!” He said “Don’t say “Whatever”. She said “Don’t say ‘You’re getting better’.” Meeting I watched you through my binoculars on the other side of the lake. You were watching me through yours. People meet in the strangest ways. Closed And Shuttered The cabin was all boarded up, ostensibly for the winter. Upon closer inspection it became apparent there had been a death in the relationship. The Last Surviving Honey Bee I found him this morning buzzing about in a field of flowers. Drunk with nectar. Looking for the queen. The Public Domain You parked your boat in front of me, just offshore from my blanket. An intrusion of my privacy. An obstruction of my view. As if this were not my lake Perspective I looked through my window. There was something moving across the sky. A prehistoric looking creature with eyes the size of oranges. Like in an old science fiction film, or a bad dream from the recent past. But then I realized, feeling quite idiotic, “It’s just another fly on the glass.” Perspective. It’s what separates truth from illusion. Afternoon Nap In The Grass Babe, you just relax. Sleep peacefully. Don’t worry about a thing. And I’ll keep my eyes peeled for snakes.
Nakedness Shorts And A T-Shirt Solar Consideration Without thinking.
In & Out Inside. Environmental control with central heat and air conditioning carpet for my feet and plastic wrapped sweets from vending machines coffee brewing fresh and filtered flowing like amphetamine injected through the veins and brains of we who live here fluorescent lights deliberately designed to liven and enlighten suspended like spider web woven plastic fastened to acoustic tile sky above my head and I feel dead here sometimes. Outside. Gentle wind and rolling hills soft earth endless sky warm sunshine and I would be alive were I beneath it. When it Goes Last day of March No time left to walk in the wind. It’s passing like a friend gone down the road Like a circus leaving town like a kite blown well beyond it’s length of string like an old man’s fading memory, like a failing marriage or a waning affair or someone’s sanity. Sad to think what the wind takes with it when it goes. Romeo’s and Juliet Something so sacred as love mistaken for madness or something as common as passion mistaken for love? Second Hand Smoke Smoke rising like a cock would in the freedom of a seedy situation or the glamour of a rich seductive suite somewhere above the city sending unrehearsed sensations through the vulnerable bodies of those who would breathe that smoke or suck that cock even though it’s been in someone else’s mouth before. No Earth Carpet to concrete to car to concrete to carpet. No earth be- tween my toes. Lethargy I’ve been stuck between a pillow and a soft place. Comfort quietly killing me. Pride of the Irish They call it Saint Patricks day but I can’t see where the man did me no good. Who made him a saint anyway? Is that something like an uncle? Just because he wore a big hat, carried a long staff, was white, had a beard and drove some weird snakes outa town don’t mean nothin’ where I live. Sounds to me like he must have been a maniac or somethin’ Besides, he’d prob’ly get arrested if they caught him doin’ that today. Storm Life outside my window cold and windy rainy gray and discontent gloomy looming larger than the monsters in my child mind trees leaning long and alone broken bashed and battered by the wrath of demon wind blowing hard sharp merciless maniacal boundless groundless energy unleashed on me and mine and you and yours and them and theirs and they who were alone but aloner now feeling stormed like the trees outside my window and the man inside my- self. Wishful Thinking I wish you magic. I wish for you a thousand nice surprises and a million smiles. I wish for you an Autumn afternoon in the dead of Winter and a lovely summer rain to walk in with a friend. I wish for you a teardrop when you find it hard to cry or a symphony of laughter on a lonely night. I wish for you the long end of the wishbone next time (so that you can make your own wish), and for ‘long ago made promises’ to quickly come to pass. I wish for you a rainbow in your window and a daisy in your hand. I wish for you a marching band on every other Sunday. Examination You were a presence in the room that night. I shivered, shed a tear, became frightened like a child. I could not see you with my eyes, but saw you clearly somehow. And you just stood there in that cold solitary corner, examining my soul in silence. I didn’t like you then for your intrusion, nor do I now for your reluctance to explain. Night People Subways smelling like the mines must where young men lose their lives. Strangers quietly ride those trains deep into the frigid New York nights. To emerge a little stranger and somewhat more estranged than when they entered. Whores crowd the corners of the downtown avenues knowing there are men like me who wish to be less alone and more prosaic. Honey, would you like a date? I got a place right down the street. Ten dollars for the room and twenty five for me. I offer up a cup of coffee and a counter in a small cafe’ to lean on. Company ain’t cheap I’m told. Move on John, I gotta make a living. Divine Guidance Reluctant Awakening
Scraps Paper bag ladies line the sidewalks along mid-town Manhattan. Eyes wide while they gather the scraps we leave behind. And collect the stares of strangers who don’t take time today to even see them. Life Blood Life blood ain’t in the rubies and diamonds in our bedroom vaults, but in the deep rich mud of the ancient soil. In the salt of the earth In the song of the wild In the quiet longing of a restless soul. Life blood. Chiseled in the hands of simple folk. Plowin’ in the field Gathering the food Gathering the fire Drinking from the stream to quench a quiet thirst. And in the virgin birth of sacrifice. Layin’ down a life. Lifting up a voice to a timeless sky. Bringing up our children with a nod to what’s right. With a watchful eye And a boundless grace. Life blood. It’s found in the depth of a dignified past. And in the best of what remains of us when we’ve breathed our last. Brilliant Shadows Brilliant shadows leaving your impression as they fade In the latest afternoon In the disappearing shade. Brilliant shadows casting your reflection on the gate Waiting still beneath the moon at the closing of the day. Brilliant shadows lingering about me in the yard. With a vague familiar presence like roses in the garden. Down the Road The sky will be clear again The clouds will be gone The noise will be muted The fighting will stop. Further on. Further on down the road. Early A.M. In the early a.m. I am not yet alive to you. Not yet awake to your presence. Not yet in time with your breath. In the early a.m. I am not yet fully conscious. Not yet home from the river. Not yet back from the dead. But in the early afternoon in the early afternoon I am alive again I am. Charlie Parker plays for me He don’t know it but he does Brings his soul so I can share it Fills my empty cup. Charlie Parker plays for me He don’t know it but he does. Brings his heart to every note Fills my empty up. Mill Valley Rolling into the Valley of the ancient Mill Across the Golden Gate early Monday evening. Sun dripping color beneath the sky blue light disappearing slowly from our sight. Dipping into the ocean deep cerulean like an egg into dye the night before Easter. The Cake Dog Pass up a good steak ya would, or a leg of lam or chicken hearts. Refuse the kibble in your day bowl. You no longer hunger for those things. I watch you scouring the cupboards frantically in search of Betty Crocker. And I’ve seen your face smeared with frosting from the can. Bark bark, bow wow. You are the Cake Dog. You are the Cake Dog. Phone Sex Good morning dear heart. Some nice conversation on the phone last night. Woke up with a smile on my face. And the sound of your laughter lingering. Imagining You Went to sleep with your scent on my pillow. And had a very pleasant dream. Growing tall Lead Me These Days Soft haze settles over the morning as if it had a right to be here. Were it clear I could see the unseen, the distant mystery, the out of reach, the far side of the valley . As it is I must rely on faith, on faltering imagination and vague recollection. I’m not so sure I trust myself for that. Halves Half moon in a midnight sky. It’s half dark but half light. If you’re half dim You’re half bright. Hey, half wet is half dry. If you’re half wrong you’re half right. But a half truth is still a half lie. To Life Early morning sun dancing on the roof like sparklers on the Fourth of July throwing radiant light across a brilliant sky through trees darkened by a long night, through me as I come quietly to life. Back to Normal The war is over. We can all go home now. Forget the ugly aftermath. The crippled lives and silent voices, the shattered dreams and broken backs. The war is over. We can all go home now. Get back to bitching about the dog. Grill the chicken, trim the hedges, fix the fence and rake the yard. Uninspired The words won’t line up right today. They arrange themselves like a rag tag band of soldiers in process of surrender. In a Bar Last Night The morning smiles like a child being offered cake for breakfast, rather than his usual cream of wheat. I smile back nervously, like a mistrustful boyfriend having found the phone number of my lovers husband in her shirt pocket. Yeah, I knew she had a husband. She told me once. But I thought she’d be faithful to me. And I never considered she might have been given his phone number in a bar last night. The Essential Elements Air. To breathe. Food. To eat. Water. To drink. Love. To live. Sex. To make you smile. The Correct Time The clocks are set for the correct time now. They are not ten minutes fast (as they have been ) for the sake of being on time. And I am not pretending I can fool myself anymore. All The Wild Horses We are born to roam this wilderness. To find our way to make our lives to select a mate from among the herd. We remain alert to preserve our lives and those of our companions. We have learned to run from impending danger from the scent of any threat or the sound of it’s aggression. And then as we grow older we are left alone to stand our ground.
Eyes Bats Attack
Family
Beyond the Chasm Secrets I told you all my secrets today. Every one of them. I entrusted them to your keeping. And you still love me. Absence Hope doesn’t give much notice, or turn to offer some pretentious resignation upon it’s departure. It just walks quietly through the door with a furtive glance and is gone. Calendar Dance In the meantime if I have time I’ll be busy in my spare time trying to find time to make time for a time to get together sometime. Cocktail Dance Oh really? Hmm. That’s interesting. We’ll have to get together sometime. Call me. The Alligators rise from the swamp, tearing at my flesh like I belong to them. They thrash frantically and violent. I scream quietly. There is no cause for my concern beyond the abiding belief that I surely must deserve it. I am meat in the food chain. I am strength for the strong. I feed the dominant, the more aggressive, the unempathetic. I am dragged down by their hunger. I shrink at their teeth. Their gums bleed. It mixes with my own. I am mangled beyond reason, beyond recognition. I succumb to this violence in the murky dawn, not given time to even drown. That’s what it feels like sometimes. That’s how it is. Depression lingers long after the alligator is gone. Long after dark. . . . . deep into the frigid grip of winter. Long Night You made me hard. The thought of you. In the dark last night. While you slept quietly beside me.
Socks Passengers There are too many passengers on this marauding train. And not enough snacks. The quiet has been devoured by the indulgent sound of everybody commenting on their Caribbean tans. Or screaming about the latest acquisition to slip through their perfectly manicured hands. Communion Like the night you devour my resistance. I become submissive to the wetness of your mouth (an inner sanctum ceremoniously extended to my nakedness). Your insides coming out to me bathing me in pleasure, savoring me as if I were the sweetness of your expectation. This closeness is as close as I shall ever hope to be, apart from the meager possibility of my crawling inside you. The Memory In a world of limited relief one tends to find it where one can. A late night rendezvous with a past indiscretion, or a modern day Lana Turner in a lace night gown fingering a neon dildo. It doesn’t really matter. It’s not about the liaison anyway. Or the moment. It’s about the memory. We remember things the way we want to. The way we would have designed them had we had the presence of forethought. Go Away I close my eyes to the blinding cliché of spiritual truth. As I do to the welcome mat of the moderately deranged. Vision There’s a place I’ve never been before. I don’t know where it is, or why. But I see it sometimes when I look out over the edge of my own limitation. When I reach beyond my own capacity. In this place I hear the sound of soft breathing, and the laughter of children. I hear the sighs of reconciliation. I hear the joyous weeping of those who have known forgiveness, and of those who have forgiven. I hear the sound of rain washing souls, and faces with it’s quiet refrain, with it’s loving wetness, with it’s compassionate intent. I hear the voice of reason. I hear the chiming of an ancient bell in the distance, and the chirping of a new born robin. I hear gardenia’s breathing, and the whisper of the wind through long corridors of silence. I hear dreams taking shape. And I hear the sound of people talking backwards to gather up the words spoken idly and carelessly. In this place I hear kindness, and I hear visitors at the gate. I see a weathered hand reaching for the cinnamon. I see green apples rolling slowly across the kitchen floor, perpetually rolling like a heart keeps beating. I see a ballerina in the fog, and a crystal decanter on a table in the meadow. I see a tug boat hauling potpourri. I see a candle burning faintly in a window, hanging just askew in the midnight sky. I hear the warm breath of passion in the cool morning air. I see the reflection of many good intentions in eyes clear and deep, like a high alpine lake in winter. I see family returning. I see friendship quietly emerging. I see alizarin crimson. I see grace. And I see life. The Meeting Room Cathedral ceilings arched like the back of a cat. But feigning no threat, no anger, or alarm. Inspiring only piety, and quiet contemplation. Staff Meeting A few annoying people asking questions hold us like glue to our chairs. Due Dates They give us an opportunity to be late when we’d otherwise never even know we weren't on time. On Living Life is like fruit. Got to enjoy it before it goes bad. On Dying Death is like love. It takes you unawares. Above the Fray When the ground feels shaky. . . elevate. It’s peaceful up here. Because of You Waking up beside you has enabled me to feel connected, to the thread of life, to the breath of passion, to the depth of union, to the gift of love. I am made more complete because of you. And more satisfied. Loss like a coin has a second side. Every coin gets tossed, and turns in time. Expression
Growing Pains Bruised knees and egos Broken bones and dreams Runny noses, and teardrops dripping slowly down a weathered cheek. Growing pains and heartache Crooked teeth and bodies bent with age. Puberty and menopause. Life begins and life goes on. Nashville Afternoon How sweet she was and slender. Nashville born and bred. Feet adorned with boots that brought distinction to her step. A lovely gait, confident, but casual. Her smile affected me most favorably like a breath of spring. Jeans worn tight that cling to her like some impassioned lover. We never really met, just our eyes in passing. But we both glanced back to look again and say good bye with some regret. Solitude II This quiet is as quiet as it’s ever been. Yet the rain lingers to mix with my tears. Reminding me that I am mostly water. As is the earth. As is the wine. And yet I do not drown in my solitude. Through the Eyes The mist has not clouded my vision from without by this damp and dreary morning merging quietly with my face. Tears have seeped subtly through my eyes from a deep well, in an ancient place, Through Your Eyes It would be scary to see the world through your eyes Since you’re so blind. In Your Shoes It would be difficult to walk a mile in your shoes Since your feet are stuck in the mud. My Eyes Glaze Over There are no problems here. There are only insurmountable odds. Because of Love Bear in mind, Things get difficult at times because of love. Indifference comes easy. Death of Philosophy There’s nothing left to say. It’s all been said before except the silence. There’s nothing left to think. It’s all been thought of except for the unthinkable. The Ducks They make me laugh, with their tails in the air, and their faces stuck in the mud just off shore, searching for those tender morsels on the lake bottom. Like we look for love. Like the Lake The surface of the water, level at all times, no matter the weather, or the season, the varying depth, the rise and fall of the bottom, the shelves, the holes, the rocks, the mounds. The surface of the water. Constant. Level at all times. Like we wish our lives to be. Distractions Close the windows. Bolt the doors. Turn off the computer, and the television. Unplug the phone. Leave the newspaper on the front stoop. See if you can make it through a day without the usual commotion. See if you can find your way through the silence. There’s a Mattress on my Head I’m a lucky man. Don’t want nobody to think otherwise. I got a good wife and a nice home. I’ve got a red boat and a big car. Got a fine guitar and a good friend. But sometimes it just feels like there’s a mattress on my head. To Breathe Take it in and let it out. It’s hard to breathe. Lungs are filled with doubt. I want to scream. A bitter taste in the mouth. My gums bleed. Pointing north but heading south. Like a bad dream. Protest I didn’t brush my teeth before bed last night. It was my small way of saying 'fuck you' to the world. Outside Your Love I’ve slept in a ditch by the side of the road, and in the valley of my despair. Been fed bad meat in a dungeon by a devil living there. Been lost in the forest, been found in the alley, been ignored in a crowd. Been outta my head, been left for dead, beat up and beaten down. I’ve been abandoned by my best friend for a better friend up there. Been betrayed by my own point of view and lost my way somewhere. I’ve drowned in my own sorrow, and in your murky eyes. I’ve learned to live outside your love, and without your feeble lies Things I’d Never Known (1971) I’ve never known a religion to be pure and undefiled Or a philosophy to follow for more than just a little while. I’ve never known a drug that could change the heart of man And I’ve never known a cause for which I felt I could fully stand. I’ve never known a friend to be totally forgiving And I’ve never known a hope to make my life seem much worth living. I’ve never known a love unconditionally bestowed, And I’ve never known a map to show a never-ending road. I’ve never known a sunset t o be totally fulfilling And I’ve never known a man to be always kind and willing. I’ve never known a promise I believed could not be broken And I’ve never known a word of wisdom confidently spoken. I’ve never known a power that could make a person whole. And I’ve never known a comfort that could calm a restless soul. I’ve never known a freedom beyond a mere sensation Or someone I could trust without a moments hesitation. I’ve never known a reason for why I came to be And I’ve never known an answer to the questions haunting me. I’ve never known a happiness I felt would always last And I’ve never known a future not to slip into the past. But then I looked to Jesus, and He proved that He alone Is sufficient in Himself to be the Things I’d Never Known.
Musings Of The Old Coyote | New Musings will always be added at the top of the column. |