Here I An Still

So, tonight after work I turned off the TV, set a time, and dedicated an hour to reading.  I finished up a poetry book by Mary Oliver (who I always get confused with Jane Olivor) and then read a couple of pages in Josemaria Escriva's book "The Way".  For those who aren't familiar with him he was the founder of the Catholic Order of Opus Dei.  Both reads really helped me find the still point of the night. 

Today was a "come to Jesus" meeting at work, which was part of my stress load.  In our last block release I had two projects that I delayed because they were not ready for release. In my imagination I conjured a lot of sturm und drang for the meeting.  In fact though, it went very smoothly. I explained why I delayed the projects, the reasons for the delay, and the response from leadership was "okay, that makes sense".  I've got a good imagination and sometimes it gets away from me imagining negative scenarios. It is a trait I am aware of and that I try to counter with limited measures of success.

So, now that we are through the block release we just have to close on these two projects and then we can pivot over to the July block release.  I am sitting much better for the July block as the lead time is wider.  The last release had a very tight lead time - we know better, but periodically we can't avoid it and we suffer because of it.  Hopefully, there will be less suffering in this next block release.  Though, if you go back through this blog and read entries from years ago you'll find very similar entries.  It is a function of being a project management that you're always locked in battle with the inherent conflicts between resources and schedule.

Other than that, it was a nice day.  We've got a bit of rain coming in, but the afternoon was very pleasant, the bird tribe was very entertaining, and the day had it's bright spots.  Tonight is the latest episode of "The Expanse" so I am looking forward to watching it on DVR tomorrow.  I will probably save it for tomorrow night and then do my usual routine, which is to order pizza and enjoy the show.  Also, exciting of exciting - Archer comes back!  In you are not an Archer fan, or if you've never seen the show before, it comes with a high recommendation from me

On that note, I am going to wrap it up and call it a night.

Like Dew...

Like dew that vanishes,
Like a phantom that disappears,
Or the light cast by a flash of lightning-
So should one think of oneself.
-Ikkyu

Where I Sit

 

reached the end

of the day

the sun has burned

away the rain

everything has turned

golden again

a symphony of sparrows

singing on the

patio

calling out to friends

and lovers

reached the end

of the day

the sun has burned

away the rain

everything has turned

golden again

 

It Was A Better Day

Well, it was a better day than yesterday.  After the curves that got thrown at me yesterday, I headed into the office early this morning and spent the bulk of the morning preparing for my VP presentation.  Fortunately, I combine the two skill sets of knowing what I am talking about and being able to wing it - so the presentation went over very well, with the VP giving us a green light to go on to the next phase of the project - obsessive planning!  My favorite part.

I bowed out of the office early since I went in early (and since I spent most of last night tossing and turning), came home, ate a nice dinner.  Watched an episode of "The Good Wife", read a magazine, and now am planning to read Lang Leav's "Love and Misadventures" as the evening winds down.  It is a beautiful and sunny evening outside and I can hear the birds on the patio discussing their evening plans with some vigor. 

It may be one of those nights when it is actually a struggle to stay away until a late enough hour.  If that turns out to be the case, then I am going to run through the tub.  Meanwhile, I am waiting to talk to TR when she gets a window and reading a little poetry.

Heavy Rainfall Sounding On The Roof

Heavy rainfall sounding on the roof
drumming the ancient songs, summoning
other rain storms, other places, other nights
And I awake with the song of the wanderer
Thrumming in my chest, in my imagination
Here, Now, Here, Now, Here, Now, Here
I pull myself back across the universe to
This moment as I toss the covers aside and
Roll over to sit on the edge of the bed
Watching the quarter moon on the horizon
Above the distant mountains, shrouded in the
Heavy rainfall sounding on the roof

The Journey

There are times
when the marvel

that is the universe
that is the Tao
that is the hidden hand
that is the great mystery
reveals itself in simple grandeur
times when a dream
becomes a conversation
becomes a curiosity
becomes a book
whose existence was unknown
until that particular thread
in the vast tapestry
was gently pulled
and there
tied to the end of the thread
was a simple piece of verse
the right verse
the verse that fell
perfectly
into place
the improbability
of the mathematical moment
revealing
the mystery that is love

Salt Wife - A Poem

She lays upon the warm stone table
Her luxurious curves and sensual lines
Covered in ancient salt, a statue
Where the rise and fall of her breath
Marks her among the living, dreaming
She trembles as the first bucket of warm water
Is poured over her body, sluicing
The salt away, stripping her with each pass
Revealing more and more until
At the end, she lays, naked and eternal
Her flesh, pale pink, glistening from the water
He watches her breathe, he trembles

Persephone Is Having Sex In Hell

"Persephone is having sex in hell..."

I have a new poet (new to me at least) who has captured my imagination - Louise Gluck. On recommendation from T.R. I ordered "Averno" from Amazon the other day and it arrived tonight - I spent most of the last hour reading the first half of the collection, and then I had to force myself to set it aside so I didn't finish reading it all in one night.  So now I am splitting my reading time between  "Averno"...

And "Among Thieves: A Tale of the Kin" by Douglas Hulick.

That is the way reading works - when it rains, it pours. 

I am enjoying both books immensely, even though it meant that I set aside Orson Scott Card's "Ruins" because if it was going somewhere, it was going too slow.  I may pick it up again later and give it another try - it's pretty rare when Card disappoints, but, alas, it does happen.

Change and Coconut Rice Balls

Today, as I moved through the day, I thought

about the high pace of change lately, it has

at times hurt, simply hurt, too much, too fast,

too sudden, but then, as the laundry tumbled

and I sat on a red brick wall eating lunch from

the Thai restaurant down the street I realized

without all the change, without all that turmoil, without

that strong and unpredictable current, I never

would have landed here, this wall, this day, these

wonderful coconut rice balls

Salamander Song

Spinning through the half light of a twilight

borne dream, inside a dense forest of inverted

trees, from somewhere deep in the earth I

heard the distant salamander song, beautiful

and secret

New Linens - A Poem

The morning light
soft and pale
seeped in around the edges
in the living room
the clock counted the seconds
each an unfolding
I lay still
the sheets caressing
naked skin
I fell into the sensation
closed my eyes
let it swallow me
simple and sensual
each rise and fall
of my chest
the subtle, slippery, cool

The Siren Song of Sleep

The final hour of the day
winds
down
the old clock on the wall
counts, descending
the hours
the minutes
the tick-tock seconds
sprawled
on the old brown couch
in a spare room
lit by the squares
of the Italian lamp
the clock counts the beat
imperfect metronome
timing
the siren song
of sleep
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Ordinary Tears

I am become a creature of sorrows
Seeking stillness in the park
I hear starlings singing a song of loss
I am bereft and weep
I count the scars on my hands
From where I burned and was burned
My Catholic soul is crying "mea culpa,
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa"
The Buddhist voice whispers of
The impermanence of all
But there is no forgiveness no detachment
Only sorrow and dreams of sorrow
My ordinary eyes are wet
With ordinary tears
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Fall Approaches

there, inside the lush green
the turn of the season, cloaked
in rich burgundy, lush death
inside of lush death, the promise
of life again, three times
lush and lush and lush
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I Trembled

the rain crashed
against the window
the clock counted
all the stolen hours
under your hand
I trembled
I twisted and I turned
tangled and burned
somewhere a lost guitar
played the songs of a thief
struck the seventh chord of lust
bound us together
written on the ribbons
woven in our limbs
all the ancient stories
all the sacred tongues
the rain crashed
against the window
the clock counted
all the stolen hours
under your hand
I trembled
I twisted and turned
tangled and burned

Spider Bite - A Poem

we slept
in the darkness
beneath the coffee trees
and thousands of spiders
bound us in webs
Gulliver's kin
a poisonous one
bit me
on the inside of my right thigh
fever corrupted flesh
hospital bed
antibiotics
a scar there
where the surgeons knife
lanced the wound
and blackness poured out

The Beggar Girl - A Poem

she sits on the curb
outside the restaurant
where the old bososuku come
on Saturday nights to
drink beer and recall their
thunder days
she plays her Martin
classic songs from another world
and as they leave they pause
to listen and to drop small
folded bills into her cup

A Fine Vintage of Poetry

I can get drunk on the words alone
they get inside me and intoxicate me
fermenting to a fine vintage of poetry

Beneath the Sumi-e Painting

I lay upon the couch
Beneath the sumi-e painting
The slowly spinning fan washing
Over my sleep like a water-dream
While you rise above me
In your white silk robe
That is washed against your body
With each passage of the fan
You wake me with your hand
Pressed against my chest
Holding me in place until
Like the water-dream you
Wash over me
Beneath the Sumi-e painting

(For T.R. after reading Li-Young Lee "The Winged Seed")
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All The Way Wild Baby - A Poem

I was sitting in my chair listening to the
drone of yet another teleconference when
suddenly I realized I was dancing to
Morris Day & The Time you know the dance
the one from Purple Rain I tucked my thumbs
into my belt and stood up and went full out
back and forth across my office in silence
except for the music in my head was I finally
driven insane by teleconferences or was I always
prone to dancing without reason and what
would the difference be (and I'm all the way wild baby)

Jungle Love - Morris Day and The Time 1984