You may have seen me, silhouetted against the sky, this coldest January night — howling with the frozen moon. Moon and I conspire, the whole world close enough to touch. We eat a midnight banquet, seasoned with colors of my guilt.
Show mercy. Peel back the layers to my authentic soul. I hope I’m not ugly in your sight. That thought becomes too heavy to hold, to tough to chew or swallow. My thoughts, bone-white lies of morality plays, open for all to see.
The grey of my indifference , the black of my sins, hope they are not frightening. My purple of betrayal, my red of anger, my green of vengeance — hope they do not make you weep. They’re a carapace to which I’m stitched. Everything I do is stitched with its color, and will no more fade, than I can wash it away.
Fist lines of my first poem of each month, its title, and its month of publication: …you are love’s beautiful rescue… “Love Drenched” — December 2022
…I was the singer… “I Was the Singer“ — November 2022
…the fog of time… “Further” — October 2022
…looking into the branches… “Shine On Me” — September 2022
…a night sky of stars… “Starman” — August 2022
…that child has captured the moon… “Capture the Moon” — July 2022
…the broken shutter swung ungainly askew… “Shooo” — June 2022
…at the sorrowing hour… “Facing Truth” — May 2022
…joe’s diner any friday night… “Joe’s Juke Joint” — April 2022
…hello wind welcome… “Oh Wind” — March 2022
…more precious than gold… “Golden Ko” — February 2022
…hands of creation… “Daily Miracles” — January 2022
…we must protect life… “Ever Present Threat” — December 2021
These are the essential elements of a dream, that first occurred to me shortly after my Pacemaker was implanted — the night I was recovering in the hospital. To the best I am able, with very limited embellishment for the sake of cohesion and also dramatic impact, I have attempted to accurately reassemble these core elements, to replicate this dream. I experienced essentially the same dream when I was deep into a 30-pill regimen of Paxlovid, while suffering a high fever from COVID last year.
K a-thump ka-thump ka-thump
an odd
steadily percussive sound
coming from overhead
over which
a mysterious voice
very hard to understand
is speaking
in a hoarse whisper
I determine
or perhaps I feel
the voice is telling me
to hurry
as the thumping
appears to trail off
into the distance
I find I am alone
wading carefully
against the current
of a beautiful stream
surrounded
by what seems to be
towering
shadowy monoliths
something very massive
the feel is very ancient
I think this is…
yes —
I am trekking
in this small river
deep
in an old growth
redwood forest
I hear the splashing of water
feeling its weight
against my shins
as I slosh through it
upstream
against the brisk flow
a stir and rustle
surrounds me
I’ve the sense
I may be in mountains
I am moving slowly
against this strong current
there is a chill
but comfortable breeze
that buffets my face
shining down
through the forest canopy
there appears to be
dual suns
as I push forward
my surroundings
begin to change
a strange landscape
is gradually
morphing into being
slowly becoming
an alien environment
vivid
startling
yet fascinating
suddenly
intense
penetrating
screeching
sounding like
fingernails
scraping
and clawing at
a chalkboard
or even more like
the insane shrieking
of wild banshees
my skin crawls
my spine shivers
I feel I am flailing
helplessly falling
yet I find myself
still trudging
through the stream
surrounded now
by the scattered crackle
of fractured shards
appearing to be
flaming glass
maybe a whirl
of searing embers
it’s then I realize
lurching blooms of rolling fire
are leaping tree to tree
above my head
rushing on
as if wind-driven
a churning growl
like a relentless roar
circling and circling
in a doppler’d pulse
pressing down through the trees
a foreboding settles upon me
as growing darkness
begins to envelope me
odd shadows
like disturbing specters
come unannounced
eerie iridescent lights
begin dancing around me
as the disembodied voice
begins keening
“you do not belong
you do not belong”
its then I see
a translucent black orb
its skin alive
like a membrane of lightning
its very core
absolute solid black
like the total absence
of all existence
coming at me
upstream
from behind
panic grips me
and I try to run
but paralyzed by terror
I cannot
an ominous fog
settles round me
like a shroud
then
I am in complete darkness
absolute pitch black
the bizarre orb is coming
coming much too quickly
terrified
paralyzed by a fear
that is physically painful
I am frozen
I cannot run
the rapidly approaching sphere
begins to emit
shrill blasts
of a deafening
whining noise
it’s getting closer and closer
louder and louder
until I black out…
Follow this orb of magic fire
far beyond this mythic archway
to worlds of pleasures you desire
lands where wishs do hold sway
to magical mystical ports of call
where you are not merely mortal
in worlds beyond the wonderwall
sailing on through mystery’s portal
trav’ling a fan-tas-ti-cal odyssey
unlike anything you can imagine
a sublimely spellbound journey
places like you have never been
you’ll see visions so enchanted
a world your mind can but beget
wonder will be by awe supplanted
what you see you will never forget
greater than fantasy’s elaboration
your sense of wonder will ascend
beyond your wildest imagination
all your disbelief you’ll suspend
as you soar in sweet hallucination
you’ll wish this joy but never end
~ oh, oh yes ~
one final thing you need to comprehend
you’ll have changed once you transcend
so you needn’t worry on yesterday again
as you were quite a different person then
~ Joni about Mingus ~ He is three
One’s in the middle unmoved
Waiting
To show what he sees
To the other two
To the one attacking so afraid
And the one that keeps trying to love and trust
And getting himself betrayed
In the plan — oh
The divine plan
God must be a boogie man!
One’s so sweet
So openly loving and gentle
He lets people in
To his innermost sacred temple
Blind faith to care
Blind rage to kill
Why’d he let them talk him down
To cheap work and cheap thrills
In the plan — oh
The insulting plan
God must be a boogie man!
Which would it be
Mingus one or two or three
Which one do you think he’d want the world to see
Well world opinion’s not a lot of help
When a man’s only trying to find out
How to feel about himself
In the plan — oh
The cock-eyed plan
God must be a boogie man!
As you read this Christmas poem, with its taste of bittersweetness, see it not in a dark light — embrace it as a tale of a long-awaited journey, to be with the one beloved.
B rushed my shoulder on this morning’s train
then while in line to get my breakfast tea
at the market it was there again
from our favorite table it beckoned me
in the crowd at the festive mall
glimpsed like a flicker of candle light
I swear I saw it fleeting fall
upon the gifts I did not wrap this night
upon the tree I did not decorate
the greeting cards I did not write
in frail voice I chastise fate
singing carols doesn’t feel right
I see it there in every aisle
the shadow of your love
elusive as a shopper’s smile
caught up in the crush and shove
it returns this night each year
the same night you went away
in dreams you kiss away each tear
touch my lips that beg you stay
but this year I’ll not awaken blue
in the end an easy thing to do
I’ll make our lover’s dreams come true
this midnight deep I come to you