Human Economics

Money is not life
Don't waste time scheming
To have it is not living
Leave me my dreaming

Drawing on the Wallpaper

God has painted a sunrise
Pastel blue, pink and gold
Translucent, ephemeral
Balm for my soul

The children have scribbled on it
With chalk from low to high
As impudent toy aircraft
Leave scratches on the sky

Entrancled

The troglodyte at midnight
Did not feel himself
And ran to check his tranclements
Displayed upon the shelf

Of all his little treasures
One could not be found
He searched upon the shelf
He searched upon the ground

He searched among the kraggle
Littered everywhere
His most beloved tranclement
Simply wasn't there

He drew a breath and searched
More methodically
But, knee-deep in kraggle
He simply couldn't see

Of course the cunning tranclement
Hiding on the ground
By the patient troglodyte
Eventually was found

There must be a moral
From this scene so true
If you are a troglodyte
I give advice to you

You may have a sleepless night
Tormented by a naggle
If you allow your tranclements
To be obscured by kraggle

Overcast

Memory feeding
Dark premonitions
The present for to poison
To the horizon

Trust

Let me not yearn
For the future - so slow to come
Let me not burn
For the past - that can't be undone
Let me but pause
And be warmed by the sun
Let me but pray
And remember the one
That yearns for the future
To lead me into it
And burns for the past
That he may undo it

Answering David's 39th

I do not answer the evil one
But I will answer you, my son
You spoke to me in your pain
Now listen to me as I explain

Your tongue did not sin
Your mouth remained clean
You are rich but you know
That riches are really nothing but show

You are a shadow upon the wall
The sun will rise and the sun will fall
And all you love will pass away
And you my son will go that way

I smile on you so that you will smile too
In all of your days that remain
So that you know that I wont forget you
And that you will live again

Generosity

To the East the Sun
A golden lamp of glory
Soon to appear over the hill
And briefly the blanket of cloud
That will smother its light all morning
Is lit from beneath
Salmon-pink and rose
Then gold

Perceptions of Time and Mortality #4 - Postpartum

I recall
The bottom of the sleeping bag
Soft dark warm confinement - then
Sudden airless panic
The echo of a tunnel of bone - and
Pressure in the head
Waiting for the first breath
Ending aquatic - automatically - then
Light, a bright chill and fright
Gasping, lungs to fill - and
Awful silence amid the chaos
The beat of the universe stilled

I recall
Shadows of a memory
Panic in the bedding - and
Dim recollections as if second hand
Of an earlier truma still