April 2020 Voicing Art Poetry Reading + Poems

                            I pretend to be a crane softly floating among the
                                        clouds – Ryokan

okay sign at the store entrance and that’s encouraging in a nervous disease
sweet william flats to later bloom in pots on front porch railings
okay ideas that transform themselves within us
like it’s possible to forget the thermometer for a brief minute
like it’s possible to just watch the freight train pass against the bare trees
like it’s possible to make the dying come back and roll over again and laugh

gray rainy day with a bright red cardinal spooked off the message board
kids every which way on scooters wearing tiny fabric masks
air collapsed around them into sounds like hibernations broken off by the way they yell

rain helps the weeds spread and puts off decisions like raking yesterday’s leaves

crows glide over like primeval allies probing what’s going on
like it’s possible to drive the sky and take the ancient reins from pharoah’s hands
f-35 jet noise knocks a dog backwards onto its ass and no one talks into the phones
no one speaks until the fly over goes by and then it’s still a simple rain on the air

like captives milkweed to butterfly like Marvin Gaye to lyrics sometimes I’m struck

sometimes stuck in a dream waiting to go into a grocery store

there was a movie poster and I was on the poster along with a woman with curly dark hair

I believe it was an aviation film the way the background looked with a silver metal plane
taxied against an enveloping sky so to speak – and so in real life – which was also being in the
dream – and looking at the movie poster – in the dream at the same time outside the dream –
I said to the woman – the same woman on the movie poster – both in the dream and outside the dream – we were standing on the sidewalk outside the theater and looking at it – the movie
poster with both of us on it – that was the dream – we were standing outside the dream and
looking back into the dream – the movie poster from what I can tell – and that’s how I want it
to be I said to her
But she said it doesn’t work out that way

                                     Early mourning clouds
                                     Will hang heavy
                                     Between head and heart
                                     Followed by
                                     Teardrop drizzle causing
                                     Limited visibility and
                                     Topical depression

                                     By mid-day winds of change
                                     And sunshine smile
                                     Will allow gradual clearing
                                     Between head and heart
                                     Followed by a warming trend
                                     Probability of participation 100%

                                                               March 1975

for Lissa Yellow Bird

oil should remain in the ground
it is the blood source of the earth
not to be harvested
as blood reserve for anemic bodies

what happens to a body when it is drained
of life? It collapses upon itself, veins constrict
and dry up, so too, the earth falters and collapses.

how is it that this yellow bird
found a way to speak for the earth
by digging her up? Her beak, a shovel,
her compass, compassion,
the stories of the missing, her fuel.

They call to her from shallow graves,
each mournful cry, she goes to where the voices are,
there, below the surface of the soil,
not vein deep, but within the scent of the blood.

she knows this is not replacement
for the weight of oil, these souls,
who did not volunteer to fill in the hollow spaces
left behind in the Peace Garden state
where gold throated vipers descend
looking for black blood to fill their dusty veins.

some got caught in the snare

once the black snake
sought hospitality in the garden
where he came to drink, and instead,
found himself persecuted and hated;
and so, he became a killa, like the black fetid liquid
of privilege and greed she now rails against.

And so, the yellow bird rises each day
to the sound of dead voices, goes to fetch what remains of their bodies,
from somewhere deep in farmer’s fields,
the one for whom the whole substrata is named.

She will bring them home,
soil shifting below her deliberate steps
into what have now become
the broken, lonely hollows below,
the resting places of her beloved ones.

Blessings never cease –

Blessings do not have
the capacity –

To End –

Or to become loss –

They cannot Ebb and Flow –

For they cannot fluctuate

at all.

The essential Nature of

Blessings is.

That they are Infinite

and Eternal –

They are not changeable

in themselves –

And are forever unaffected

by change Itself.

They are –

Indisputable and.

Indestructible.
    (Because) –
Truly, Blessings are the very
foundation Itself –

Of all of Life

And Life simply – knows – This.

MEMO
(Dispatched via Diplomatic Pouch)

Date: March 19, 2020
To: My Workers
Subject: In Which You Are to Pause

Dear Workers,

You have been a noisy bunch.
I have had a headache for centuries…
And the neighbors have started to complain.
(Mars just won’t shut up with their sword-rattling,
Vulcan keeps telling me throwing you all in their forge is just around the corner,
and Uranus is getting a kick out of joking about bringing you all to their place
“where the sun don’t shine”.)
Even my boss, with their sunny countenance and radiant disposition,
is getting on my case.
And, really, do you have to constantly be so god- awful to each other?
In all my travels, truly, you create beauty of some of the rarest form,
but that just doesn’t seem to be enough, does it?

So, my dear workers, the time has come
in which you are to pause…

to reflect, to contemplate,
to get off the hamster wheel and out of The Matrix,
to love on each other, to treat my body kindly,
to for gods-sake put down your grubby lust for coin
and spiritualize it up and out beyond the ugly bunker you have built.
To witness the chance for the hold to be broken:
To revel in the bullies’ real reveal as bloated baby blimps.
To see the stock market on its knees and
actually believe it is not the master of the universe.
To laugh at the plaything that is the human relation with money
and feel reverence at the realization that it is actually an agent of love
when we share it in people’s wellbeing.

(Bet Andrew Yang doesn’t seem so wacky and wonky now y’all, eh?)
And, dudes, please thank Bernie and Elizabeth.
Yeah, he’s crotchety – yeah, she’s got a plan for that that didn’t seem sexy –

(I do, however, love a sexy librarian; always have)
but bet healthcare for all doesn’t seem so crazy right about now, huh?
So I’m going to keep those masks slow in coming,

and you are going to – STOP, just stop.

Be silent, my workers.
Be still.
Be plunged, vomiting, out of The Matrix,
and realize you can do jujitsu that restores my world.
Be listening, and hear the steady and sane wonders sharing “wild” ideas
that are just what MY doctors are ordering.

Be silent, my workers.
And become, my Beauties
that you are.
And turn this place into the sanctuary it is meant to be.

Mars really is in a much better mood when they have a beautiful place to decompress,
Neptune likes to switch up their meditation spot sometimes,
Venus is able to write their monthly wisdom updates so much more clearly,
and don’t even get me started on The Voice: Galactic Edition show
we’ll be able to have when you finally figure things out.

From the Desk of Planet Earth
Stardate:
The 366th day (it’s a leap year)
of the 12th month
of my Infinite Year

words ring hollow
we are forced to swallow
events that occur as they may

effect then cause
well it gives me pause
would a friend treat you in that way ?

with little regard
for bird, beast or bard
time marches on so they say

pay no attention
to words that mention
the past in any shape or way

for our memories
say what they please
we are tossed in a forever sway

calling it fate
may insulate
you from the pain of yesterday

maybe you’ll find
enough peace of mind
in the absence of love on display

facts and figures
in mortis rigors
on a world that is melting away

you must admit
it stinks quite a bit
to expect some sort of hurray

words ring hollow
we are forced to swallow
events that occur as they may

Corona-v is sticking to stories that I see
with an invisible paint…
an invisible paint revealing
that our stories connect us
with fellow passengers on a train ride…
a train ride where some are shifting
from jobs, classrooms, churchs, businesses,
our creative expressions and adventures
to our houses…
some of our houses which are calling
for compassion and understanding
to heal those of us grieving,
those of us scared, lonely, ‘going crazy’ in our houses…
and also houses that are offering some of us sanctuary
in these ‘shaking things up’ times,
with opportunities of
hugging, talking, playing,
reading, listening, observing,
imagining, creating, reaching out,
asking and exploring meaningful questions…
meaningful questions illuminating our families,
communities and nations’ steps forward together…
steps forward together that hopefully lead us
into greater helping of each other
and loving and sharing
and deeply connecting…
deeply connecting with the sacred of our purposes
and being who we are,
engaged in the communities we are part of,
and illuminating where we head next…
head next as our whole selves,
and collectively on a shared adventure,
which enrich our lives and
the wellbeing of humanity and our world.