I hear them in the dark distance, the honking of North bound geese. Their calls sound comical and yet determined. Theirs will be a long travail and they are flying late. I imagine that subtle variations in their calls mean different things. Perhaps they even tell each other jokes.
Hey, have you heard the one about bird flew? Yeah, beats walking pneumonia. Haw Haw Haw Haw. Go left. Left.
The bright moon illuminates a thin veil of clouds and makes a perfect backdrop for the wing of geese and stragglers. The clouds are slowly moving north, silent, cold and resolute. A lone goose is lagging far behind, sounding forlorn. A sharp wind bites through my clothes, stripping away green hopes of early spring. I am a lone, bare tree, arms stretched into the sky, praying for the return of the sun god.
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
3 comments:
My career as a con artist was short lived Roberto. I too have this dis ease with reporting for work or figuring out how to generate an income. I soothe myself however with the reminder that I could be a person who reported for work with that recognition and no ability to resist. You have so far managed to remain more alive than most I know who report for work every a.m. and have turned mostly into automatons. Plus they seem more consistently unhappy and less creative.
I sent you a sweet little poem written by Mira, an Indian poet about giving preference to what you did yesterday, if it worked for you at all. Such as taking time to look at the sky. Consider yourself sane and healthy if you still make time to look at the sky. Consider yourself sane, healthy and creative if you even take the time to write about what you see. Thank you and bless you. Happy March, the trickster month. Is it spring or is it winter? I don't think you seem very scattered, very trash, very white or very mentally ill. Maybe a tad deranged. Speaking of water as you did in your bio, I had an aversion or maybe more accurately a water phobia for six years. I did not allow my body to connect in any way, shape or form with water. It caused some problems to be sure because people who lived outside my skin decided that this was very offensive of me and did everything short of shooting me to put me out of their misery, to remedy the situation. One day it passed and now I love water as long as I can control the temperature and the flow. Everything passes if we wait long enough. Eve Ensler who is a very brave kind of soul/writer, such as yourself, talks of how she began to cry one day and it went on for months, sometimes sobbing, other times whimpering. Finally it subsided and she was in another land with herself. This happened with me also. My long ago husband would leave in the morning and 8 hours later, he would arrive home to find me in this still prone position, sobbing and howling at the gods. It really got under his skin to say the least. Finally it stopped and I smouldered for another year or two. Actually what prefaced all of this was the feeling that all of my skin got burned off in an intense fire. Maybe it was some premature kundalini awakening that I was not prepared for as I had practiced much yoga. But I really think it was more of a spiritual death and laying in the ashes for six years. It was really boring a lot of the time.
Okay, I am off to the movie: Bridges of Teribetha. I saw Pans Labyrinth last week and thought it was a horror flick disguised as a fantasy. Didn't like it and had nightmares for the whole week. I do not like to watch anything that has violence in it because I can no longer relate to it at any level. I do not find it curious or exciting or purging. I find that I am just repulsed by it and bored finally. I don't feel that I am numb to it; I just don't know what it is anymore; it is outside my frame of reference. I feel that if I refuse to send out any violent vibe because I have dissolved all these vibes to ashes, I am at least doing my singular part to promote peace through this internal inventory. I am not running around the world looking at violence like Eve Ensler and railing against it; however I am glad that she is doing this because someone needs to. However, I think she still holds much internal violence or she would have no stomach for such. However I may be naive or/and downright stupind in my assumptions but maybe not. There are ways to rebel that involve casting out, withdrawing total attention for that which offends. Including political leaders who could not lead if they had no followers. And that includes opposition which is a form of following.
Gida
Gida's right, Roberto. It is much more valuable to me to see someone who does stop to listen and watch than someone whose entire life is dedicated to making money. This is also why I was so delighted to come to live here: to ge away from that kind of energy.
Today again, driving back from work I did a few detours to be with myself. I quit the highway as soon as I could, took the country roads, and stopped to watch and listen to the geese, then stopped again to watch the eagle's nest on Dike road,then once home, I stopped on the gangway and lifted my head up to see and listen to the trumpeter swans'honk-honk.That brought me a smile. And tonite again I listened to the beaver on the river, man, this guy's building a condo! And yes, I am so fortunate to be able to slowly disconnect in this way. And you are fortunate to have eyes that actually see those things.
Annabelle.
Thank you, Gida and Anabelle for those poignant comments.
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