Human Being


The human part of us
wants and needs and breaks,
but the being part sees
beyond the body's aching
joints and joyful noises
to the open road ahead.
The gravel is covered
in a fine layer of snow
and ice with the white sun
shining through a tunnel
of pines like the unblinking
eye of the source.

The human part of us
knows that if we keep going
we will slip and slide
and fall down endlessly,
but the being part says
so what? and pushes us
onward toward the light,
since it knows there is
no way but to move
forward, step by slow 
step in our heavy boots.





Message


I wanted to capture that quiet moment
after the heron splashed up from the pond,
when a pair of wings opened wide in me
and white space erased every thought I had.
I could hear bullfrogs beginning to thrum
their mud-songs, could feel the blue blades
of fescue lying down for the coming storm,
but the chirping of the phone in my pocket
broke the calm, and before the heron could
turn to a gray speck among stacked clouds,
I was thinking again, wondering who it was,
then taking out the phone, tapping its screen
aglow with the image of a yellow envelope
waiting to be opened, my moment of stillness
floating off with tufts of thistledown
caught on the wind of the world's wild mind.





The Body Electric


Every cell in our bodies contains a pore
like a door, which says when to let in
the flood of salt-ions bearing their charge,
but the power in us moves much slower
than the current that rushes into wires 
to ignite the lamp by which I undress, 
am told to undress by sparks that cross 
the gap of a synapse to pass along 
the message, It's time for sleep. As I pull 
back the sheets, ease into bed, I think
if I could only look beneath my skin,
I'd see my body as alive as Hong Kong,
veins of night traffic crawling along
the freeways as tiny faces inside taxis
look up from the glow of their phones,
sensing that someone is watching.