Inlaid Wooden Pew

Organic grains
of ancient, stained wood
reach across centuries
to meet the touch of my fingers
as I stroll through the Rococo cathedral.
Inlaid resplendent patterns,
curled and coiled,
dark wood against light-
each was carved painstakingly,
intuitively pieced
by ancestors’ calloused hands,
building on the work of
innumerable, hard earned lives.
I inherit their laborious fruits
and also their faults,
their joys and their agony-
tenacious, storied histories,
days and decades gnawed into
multi-faceted pellucid geometries,
habits and rumors
spawning Divine doctrine,
layered traditions, living myths-
all, perhaps, governed by
a beauteous, grand design, a sublime plan-
yet, a monkey’s puzzle in the end,
forever alluring, forever a dream,
inlaid within this wooden pew.

Princess Sonya Update

Princess Sonya will be heading East with me tomorrow. I’m taking her to Mom, where she will, hopefully, make her home. We’ve grown closer the past two weeks. She’s finally starting to relax and not panic every time I get up from the computer or go to the bathroom, as if I were leaving her forever.

We have some games now. She plays fetch with her favorite raw hide bone. It’s so cute watching her, all perky and puppy like, racing the whole 6 feet distance to the bone, pouncing, fur flopping, like it’s a huge accomplishment. And she likes to dance, twinkle toes, around my feet when I dance around her.

I gave her a bath today, and brushed the wet hair out, while she stood perfectly still. Then, as she dried, her silky hair shone, and I swear she knew how good she looked! She just pranced around showing off. Goodness, what a ham.

But I think she’s really a quiet, lap loving, regular schedule kind of princess, and that’s what Mom will provide her. Let’s hope the chemistry clicks.

Summerness: Robin Chorus at Dawn

Night brings out the muse, usually late.

Last night I went to bed early, giving in to deep relaxed fatigue, layered weights dragging me down the more I relaxed. I awoke way too early, 4:30 AM, not happy about sleepus interruptus, while ruminating mind began planning chores. NO, not now! In a rare appearance these days, my old friend spontaneity came to the rescue. “Get up” s’he said. “Go out and listen to the dawn. Follow the Robins dream. Spiral through the shift from night to day.” So, I got up an went out back to sit on the step and feel the dawn.

Sing robins, sing-
Gossip of angels,
lone voices call
across treetops
(lofty reaches)
in jazzy, lilting riffs.
Each outdoes the other-
point, counterpoint
development, refrain, repeat.
(chorus spinning)
Each answers gurgling trills
in telephonic circulation,
answers and calls,
(leave a message)
conversations which
rise in pitch
to feverish conniptions.

Sing, robins, sing-
thrilling chorus,
bid the light appear as
still air chills and flows in whispers.
The page begins to turn
(huge and gentle)
nudging oceans of molecules to dance.
Shadows barely hint as
the garden broaches the dark pitch.
Bones of structure
rise to the surface,
pale ghost forms
of architecture,
soon to be resurrected,
as night acquiesces.

Sing, robins, sing
for me, when I am gone.
Tell me how the book began
how the story will end.
Tell me why I fear to hear
what you can only sing,
a truth I will never understand.
But tell me yet, for perhaps
I can know as you know,
know in the singing.

I hear, I hear and it’s gone.

Universe as God, Words as Shadows

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Knowing you as my father and as a friend is comforting reassurance; that I might someday turn out as cool and level headed and wise as you.
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Can we know what God is if we don’t know what the universe is? Or can we only know God the same way we know the far reaches of the universe? By study, observation, intuition, speculation, conjecture. To me the universe is everything, stars, galaxies, nebulae, all time. But how far out does it go? Does it end somewhere? Could that universe be inside something else? Could our universe be a grain of sand on a beach with billions of other grains, each a universe? And could that beach, with glassy waves which lick your ears under a shimmering caramel moon, be waiting forever, with ageless answers, in case you are listening?

Cat's Eye Nebula

The day held me in its gaze
and swayed me lazily
to a quiet place
where the shadows receded.

Can God Lick your Ears With Ageless Answers?