Creative Imperatives-

Achieving Dynamic Process and  Resolution

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Chance, Rhythm, Rhyme
“The dogs bark, but the caravan moves on.”
—Arab proverb

The window has no screen,
and doors are left askew;
sometimes I feel amiss.
I wonder if you do.

Son and daughter, find balance.
Once done, set your feet.
Blithely step into the light,
be genuine with those you meet.

The window has no screen;
the sunlight and the dew
spill in upon my open heart,
open because of you.

The window has no screen,
the door is left ajar,
the future might be full of choice,
but now is where we are.

With help from strangers, friends,
we find our way, in light or dark—
fear not what might be there,
although the dogs may bark.

So let us be up and doing;
like dreams, let us occur—
beyond what might be just enough,
jump in the pot, and stir.

The Horse Knows
 
Up the hill near the barn
across a hundred yards of grass,
the horse knows
when I stop along the road
to take his photo.
In recognition
he turns to face the lens
of my camera, my intent.
 
While I photograph,
he barely moves
steadfast in his gaze,
planted in his stance
ears pitched forward acquiringly
in unwavering focus
we acknowledge our mutual
curiosity and sentience.
 
Across our nostrils  
blow pre-storm breezes,
we hear bustle in the barn,
we hear rumbling
clouds encroaching,
feel the warmth
of swirling grasses,
the consciousness we share.

Unfold

 
I push command n
and a new blank page appears.
The screen is more opaque,
more illusionary,
than the screen on my door
that lets the fresh, dewy
air of morning fill the kitchen.
 
The white, sanitary blankness
waits the arrival of keystrokes,
waits thoughts in my head
to coalesce in some meaningful way,
leaping synapse to synapse,
linking syllable to syllable
to express purpose, passion,
like a recipe, a prayer.
 
I try to track the movements,
as if a thousand chimps
are swinging
randomly through treetops
of their mountain home
before the early fog has lifted.
Though I feel the urge,
endeavor speech,
I see no pattern,
I discern no path.
 
Now, just now you appear,
bright in my unfocused memory
a point of light toward which
I turn in recognition, in hope,
ready to let the drama of day
unfold unencumbered, unafraid.

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