I need this quiet moment
to gather myself, after falling apart last night in the motel. I lost touch with my center, with my hopes and dreams, watching sociopaths do their thing on TV I became paralyzed inside myself.
Alone at home,
the quiet descending…no more cable news. I can't stand the cynicism.
I am so glad to be back in the mountains. In the stillness of twilight my thoughts are moving. I can make a radical change and dream again, beneath the ethereal mountain.
In a split second,
I became a different person. It happened for no reason, one quiet Saturday in the mountains, with my wife and the cats sleeping soundly, silence broken only by the cry of a bird deep in the woods, and closer still, the voice of a crow, my spirit bird, revealing a secret, but no need for words.
Sitting here, feeling the quiet…
I can't remember my dream but I know today will hold some mystery, some message from the other side.
Let everyone be free to find their truth. There is sunlight in the trees guiding us.
Last night is gone…
when you fall apart what can you do? Walk out into the light, dwell in the silence and create, create. Hear the voice of the crow calling you forth. Feel the spirit of the crow.
I go over my poetry, all of it,
while Linda sleeps. The sunlight is pure and I feel the wind. The leaves flutter in unison and I feel content. There is no place I need to go, no expectation I have to meet.
My soul greets the wind.
It doesn't feel right,
the cafe is dead, mindless music blaring, the waitress depressed.
I'm the only one there and I feel unable to write. The news is depressing, the sociopathic extreme right well-funded, so I decide to go home and talk to Linda. I don't want to go to church, just want to creatively write, be intimate, reset, go down to the river.
First day subbing in North Carolina,
I arrived too early, double booked, sent to a second school, but I have no idea how to get there…
I spilled my coffee
in a new school and the custodian with a gentle manner helped me to clean it up. The kids are black and white and it's fine but, sadly, I hear one kid call another "retard." I'm used to hearing that but it's not fine.
Talked to my son
last night on the phone. He's driving to St. Augustine, asks if we can meet him there, but it's too late this time. He tells me how he's now tracking cosmic rays and gathering data and I tell him I would love to see it, and I can hear the pride in his voice.
I told him we will be down as soon as possible.