Things that are in and of the air

For some reason when I was at the track and saw an radio remote control bi-plane traversing the air, I thought of you;
and those days of sending voices miles to your little digital monitor screen.
Then more images of things that was in the air that we talked about last summer.
The TWA airport, the empty bird cage at the museum, not to mention bees, birds, and ravens; and some bits of a memory of watching the mist issuing forth from the mouths of humans in a forest of miniature trees.
This bi-plane made an elegant figure eight, infinity over the football field, Astro-turf, artificial green.
The iridescent wings of the humming bird which was all but a blur that held up the perfectly stilled body, the vessel that held the nectar of the blue flower grown in Marigot Bay, St. Lucia; near a blue pool which I had all to myself one afternoon watching drops of water descending from the air into the liquid surface that radiates concentric circles when the two meet to form hyperbolas when the two concentric circles began to spread out and met.
Watching the yellow bi-plan I thought, this could be something out of a dream or movie where lovers crashed onto the desert, the wrecked plane carrying a woman which he now has to carry to a cave and eventually buried.

A Sacrament

 Become that high priest,  the bee. Drone your way  from one fragrant temple to another, nosing into each altar. Drink  what's divine— and while you're there, let some of the sacred cling to your limbs. Wherever you go  leave a small trail  of its golden crumbs.  In your wake  the world unfolds  its rapture, the fruit of its blooming. Rooms in your house fill with that sweetness your body both makes and eats.              —Paulann Petersen 

Beat Rodeo - New Love

When I asked you

"How is your day?"

you said:

"Nothing much is new…when in fact it is precisely new. And it all is happening inward.”

the sound of it is like a clear bell ringing

I can't explain why I understand it

in my own way I comprehend

like shy birds that take flight

when approached

like tire birds alight

on twilight branches

some feelings are inexpressible

thoughts escape languages

It could possibly be like

the nest of birds inside a chimney

we hear it's bird call

each day a little louder and more bird like

then the next

until one day, they find their way out

they flew up the flue

and nothing sings from the

empty fire place.

Damn You Leibniz!!!
And all your cronies
yeah newton too
Lagrange
You are strange
you got your rackets going
now i have to rack my brains
oh i'm in pain
you mathematician
drive me to
drink and derive
I've had it up to here
with your limits
they squeeze me tight
until i can't breathe
which sends me
to L'Hôpital

2010

As a child
my godmother took me to see a show
before I knew what centrifugal force is
the motorcycles go round and round
in a cylinder
I'm on top looking down
she also took me to see
a magician saw a lady in half

years later, crossing a ferry on Vancouver, BC
In another continent
I saw a whale
bought a book on magic
perhaps I was looking for
my innocence
a believe that magic exists
what I found were rude pentagrams
evil hunger for power
beads and shells from the Caribbean

it never talks about how a letter
could make me cry or angry

never mentioned how two wheels
can travel in a sphere or cylinder

it did not tell me what my dreams meant
when I saw a man whipped a fish into his exact self
and the sparks of live wire
thrashing like eels above a lake.

it never talked about the flood I saw in my dream
and finding myself soaked with tears up on waking

it dare not mention the lost that I would have to suffer
the most incredible disappearing act of you.

2001 Summer