after receiving acupuncture for my lung

I.

I wake from a dream
buying gerbera daisies
to place in a vase
the dream has convinced me I own—

since I’ve moved
I no longer know where anything hides
in the heavy, cluttered boxes
crowding closets

perpetual loss, that’s what fills those boxes
and I resent my partner
for pulling me here
and that reminds me

with a sudden catch of breath, how

very soon after
I was born
all the beauty I had ever known
faded

into endless, sterile white

I catch glimpses
now and then
of the place that came before—
yesterday—

when the needle punctured the skin
where that toe meets my sole

“For your lungs,” the healer said
and indeed, in an instant waking dream
floated
the filigree coral
suffused with softest red
of my lung
nothing less than

life’s tenuous perfection

and now the morning of the vase, here and then gone,
tells me that held in the pulse of air and blood

is a lace of remembrance

my first days here
the shock and grief
of the move—

my grief, which has been so precious to me,
for its waters
could anytime have been my river back,
back to the place before—
through drowning
in phlegm’s embrace
I would have gone many times
gladly, gladly

I would have gone
gladly, gladly

had not some faint sound
pulled me
the other way

I still do not understand that direction
all I know is—
ahead of me
the river now has shores

II.

shores of shimmering sound
embankments of my heart
reason to stay

I don’t remember sound
in that other place
not quite like ours, anyway

I was ready to play, I was ready
to throb

oops

coop’s lintel, somehow
walk forehead straight to it
ass meets floor

*********************

Earth—a place where injuries happen. I’m concerned these days about the problems being caused by geoengineering. If that subject interests you, please visit here: www.geoengineeringwatch.org.

what choice do we have?

what choice do we have
but to be naked?
the flimsy cloth that covers
us
merely a dusting—
obscures fleshed contours with seams
of precision
draws the eye away
from certain shadows
but momentarily
only momentarily

rooftops reveal
our dwelling places
easily wounded
in an age of bombs

our doorways and driveways
innocently, incessantly proclaim
I live here
you live there
and of course
the thief knows it

there is no place at all
no place at all to hide

this quivering heart

no place—

for those who dare

the freedom of the open sky
the budding of tenderness
the resilience of song

could be perfect shelter   — 2001

******************************

When I wrote this poem in August, 2001, there was a lot I didn’t know about, but could only glimpse through intuition and a “felt sense.” Nowadays, when I reread this piece, I’m amazed how much it had to say about the life looming ahead of me. My perspective is that we need to build true shelter more than ever. One of the bombs I didn’t know about then, but understand somewhat now, is geoengineering: www.geoengineeringwatch.org.

neighbor’s dog, 5

died two days ago
no eager mouth at my door
more meat for me now

*********************

There is a correct balance between life and death. That balance appears to be damaged on our planet. If you are interested in knowing more, please visit: www.geoengineeringwatch.org.

really

more lies, more colds
viral vultures gather
where we slay truth

*****************

This poem was inspired by a recent article appearing at mercola.com, citing recent research that shows lying and insincerity depress our immune systems: Being Honest Can Improve Your Health.