working it out

science has this passion

to discover,
or re-discover

it depends

on who is looking,
what is personified.

but,

when being the butterfly
(or chuang tzu?),

feeling the metal pin slice
through dried wings,

and the suffocation of
entrapment,

that is, having to be a ‘thing’

as on a shelf, labeled, glassed,
obtainable,

found a niche,
now perform well…

if you are a butterfly under glass,
then play dead.

takes the fun and the
joy out of the science of

discovery, out of the
playtime of role-play

and temporary assignments,

exploration, even quantum theory.

we all know nightingales
like to be free, as do

butterflies and whispers

poems don’t love

to be scrutinized nor analyzed
for their psychic material

poems are more like butterflies

than psyches, more like butterflies
than like freud

than like rorschach,

than like LSD.

a poem is not an neurotransmitter,
nor a stimulated receptor, nor the electrical stimulus,
nor calcium

but it can affect you.
social media affects dopamine,
like crazy!

check your ventromedial prefrontal cortex

maybe a non-sequitur, but all things
have namable parts that don’t add up
always, but are still whole processes,
like healing
rarely makes any sense,
exactly

albeit the words are happening

thick, fluid, magical,

ungraspable.

untouchable-tangible

symbols have not 1:1
correlation-symmetry
more like 1: ad infinitum

we, who need to be free
take our freedom

in the moments of our breath,
use dashes, and make dashes,
or take our time,
on purpose.

find truth in
chuang tzu, in

freud, even, if necessary…

poetry as word
isn’t fake, nor outrightly
understandable.
it doesn’t have to be beautiful!

not all poems want to be
delivered with song

but you can see an internal
frequency,

even a trapped butterfly

may effect chaos theory
for theories are more easily

affected than are

the winds, with the momentum
of, say, a hurricane numbered 5.

my prayers were heard,
even when i didn’t pray

the way, i was expected to, with
the authorized format, given to me

by those who would punish me,

by those who would punish anybody,
by those who do not know self-love.

chuang tzu is not my god/goddess,
i reject capital letters right now
except for this one,

Process –

but even so, i yearn for another
language, to facilitate this meaning

***********************************************************************
This poem was written in the attempt to recover the creative adolescent
archetype, when expression was honestly exploring and feeling like the systems of the world were restraining forces, rather than assisting and engendering forces, a great questioning. It’s about being awkward, and being as a poem at the same time. When poetry didn’t have to be about rhyme or song, tradition – nor be didactic in any way. When poetry was about experimentation and “finding oneself” in the world. When poetry was about the journey and not the destination.

Also, this is integration work, and not meant to be viewed as a polished piece, final product, or current commentary. This is art-in-action.

Finally, once I found a coffee-shop, where at the readings, the host’s poetry sounded surrealist/da-da, and I felt like I fit in there at times.

Nude Sculpture and Pisces Full Moon September 8th

Ka Malana ~ Regional Governor's School @1996It’s a full moon in Pisces on Monday and there’s a sense of aloofness to my energy these days. I want wrap myself in the energies of autumnal ART, as she guides me inward to my spiritual hearth. I am happily introverted, turned within to face my experiences, which seem to me to reach beyond any necessary words or the desire to write.

It’s been a while since I’ve sculpted with clay, but maybe even 16-year-old-me (who sculpted the nude in the picture above) wants to share this message:  pick up some clay, start with what you got – the only limit IS your imagination. [Therefore, clay is not necessary.] Your imagination is the KEY to unlocking the door to limitless expansion, if you dare to harness the faith and the courage to see your vision through.

This is a very old sculpture of mine.

(Although the photo looks blurry, this orange-y color is the true color of the fired, yet unglazed clay.)

Want to Play? Kokology, a Game for Self-Discovery

Image

Kokology is the study of kokoro (“mind” or “spirit” in Japanese). It is a game of self-discovery that was designed by Isamu Saito. We are about to play it!

Directions: read the exercise below and leave a comment with your own response to what follows in the story.  Once I have 3 comments/responses (or until I get back to my computer)—I will post the responses/meanings to the kokology game in my comments section.

The Game Begins:   Welcome to My Parlor

In the human unconscious, spiders hold a place of fear and respect that’s entirely out of proportion to their tiny size. Perhaps it’s their skill in hunting, their patience when lying in wait, or their ability to weave devious webs to trap their prey. Whatever the reason, spiders evoke a strong mixture of feelings in us all.

Imagine you are a spider, sitting at the center of a large web you have spun.

You will need a pencil and paper for this one—to record your answer (or you can describe with words what you pictured in the comments section).

1). Draw a picture of your web and the number and types of insects you have trapped in it.

2). You move to make a meal of one of your pray, but somehow it frees itself from the web and escapes. As it hurries out of reach, the lucky bug says something to you. What are its parting words?

 

****************************************KEY************************************Kokology’s Key to “Welcome to My Parlor: The spider is one of the great hunters of the natural world. Your impressions of life as a spider show us something about how you see your experience as a hunter in the wilds of love. 1.) The number and types of bugs you drew corresponds to your own love conquests. The web represents your strategies and techniques for luring others into your clutches, while the types of bugs you caught reflect your opinion of your former lovers. Was it a single common housefly? A lovely butterfly that only leaves you hungry afterward? Perhaps a fat, juicy caterpillar? Or maybe an unappetizing mass of mosquitoes, roaches, and worms wriggling as they await your approach? Some spiders will eat anything. 2). The parting words of the bug that got away are your memories of rejection in a failed conquest. Let’s face it, we’ve all been shot down at one time or another–this game shows the words that hit closest to home. “You’ll never catch me, you ugly old spider!” Ouch. “Better luck next time!” Well, thanks for the encouragement, anyway. “Hooray! I’m free, I’m free!” Okay, you’re free. But you don’t have to be quite so happy about it, do you?”