Thursday, July 2, 2009

All In A Row, The Intersection

These poems came fast on this day back in January. Sometimes I am loosely woven. It takes a special discipline then.

All In A Row

I stand in a row,
All of me, upright, right dress,
But it's damp, that's wrong.
It's a hard go keeping me
In a discipline like this,
Especially when
The fog gets in all my heads.
This just creeps me out.

January 22, 2009 10:02 AM


And sometimes the only refuge is memory.

The Intersection

Sometimes when I write
These lines the walls fall away,
I turn a sharp right
In this personal
Moment and lose myself all
Over once again
Just like that one time
When I found myself in your
House, climbing into
Your lap, looking out
On everything that is
All of me, of you.

January 22, 2009 10:22 AM

I don't feel any urge to add anything much tonight. I can say that my part of Oregon is in a heat wave for the moment, and while our heat is not as high as some but one or two days out of the year, what we have is humid air most of the time. That really saps me. I am told I am to expect that to get worse now with my medical history.

My old girl friend has arrived to tend to her house here this week, and then to travel further south to Chico in California to see her mother. I have spent several evenings with her, like old times only as friends. We were always true friends. We still are. We have decided to travel together to visit a mutual friend soon.

Being with her is comfortable as always. Very familiar.


  1. All those foggy it.


  2. Michelle, it is a little spooky to realize that not only parts of me conflict, they themselves are a conflict. This takes indecision to a whole new level. My inner contemplation actually turns out to be more a diplomatic negotiation. Exhausting. Cacaphony. No wonder mirrors are deep subjects. Look at the crowds in them.

  3. I love the same lines as Michelle in All in a Row -- so many yous, so many heads. I just read your reply to Michelle, and I had to smile at the "diplomatic negotiation".

    I think your problem is you're just too intelligent for your own peace. Happens a lot to smart people...

  4. Shanti, shanti, shantihi.

    I chant to quiet my head. Heh.

  5. And the second poem seems to speak of the mood, the nostalgia of being with an old friend/lover, whether by coincidence or not...

  6. I love your style Christopher, you can speak of ordinary things in a creative way. :D

    It's been a bit Muggy over here as well Oi'.

    Hope your weekends a good one!


  7. (Oh and your comment for Michelle, that is so true. Some times I spend my day in indecision and it drives me crazy!! Rather I do something, even if it was busy work, than stand around trying to decide what to do)


  8. {{{Rachel}}}

    My inner landscape is filled with old lovers, human and divine. I was thinking, how odd that I should post this poem during the week that my old lover is in town and me visiting, but then to be fair, I often write of lovers.

    But I would point out that it is an odd juxtaposition, that I write of climbing into someone's lap. If you saw me, you would know that is not likely. So I am shapeshifting or I am climbing into the lap of someone way bigger. Perhaps I write as a small boy to my mother, or a supplicant to God?

  9. Strawberry Girl, thank you for your comments. It is always good to know that people think my work brings out ordinary stuff. There are so many people in my life reinforcing my oddness :)

  10. trenchant mirror
    did reflect
    the image of Odysseus

    on a voyage
    toward the sound
    of the Siren's voices

    the hollow thunder rounds
    in ruined ancient places

    in light's reflection
    glimpse the words
    and thoughts of myriad faces



  11. Ghost, your gift of the tarot card was breathtaking. Thank you.

    The poem was a welcome gift too.

  12. Yeah but if there were only one head yammering would that be you? I think we are meant to be a little more complex than order to get to the simplicity....god, I know what I mean :)


  13. OOOOOH, that's a deep question. If I was of one mind, would it be my mind?

    I am going to walk carefully around that one.

  14. A Serious Question

    If I was of one
    mind, would it be my one mind?
    Questions like that hurt
    my brain with sudden
    uncertain strokes of soggy
    gloves right smack across
    my neurons naked
    in the heat of mental things.
    I have no idea.

  15. Laughed a good full bodied chortle after the first.

    The second to me is all limbs atwisted and that is just fine with me.

    (You gave me hugs. Christopher gave me hugs...thank you. And for your poems.)


  16. Erin, I am one of those. I am a hugger, of women because I am very fond of hugging women, and of men if they are comfortable with the idea and the act. I like touching in all forms, and actually have a table for massage. I thought seriously for a time about getting a massage license. I am good at it. So I am happy hugging. Hugging is a win/win. It is remarkable that we have to grow up to reconnect well with what we knew very well as young children.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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