the nature of this grief

ganesha rest my hands on your sorrow
the bees are in flight
twice this day has happened
the dream plan the unrehearsed dance
Ganesha diminishes our grief
the small child tells me of the Buddha
her hands comforting me
her pupils full of daylight she insists
it is night time the bees inhabit
the bone cave this hour she has designed
contains the esquelito of the previous
self I change and seek the change
and wonder how I remain the same

no fear nor memory can hold the spirit still

grief

deviant boy seeks
agnostic friend to act
as buddha in the evening
your whispers do justice
to the loss
your sparrow words
cane the nightmare of
her betrayal

it has come to the end
of another decade
I cower under the machinery
of age
these lists
full of moments
like ant armies
significant in their
unitary routes
each simple soldier
bearing a bucket
of saline loss
the ratcheting motor
begins making a new noise
what is it this time?

Tarot Lies

"There's just some things
I could never understand.
Some of the sick things
that a girl does to a man."

—Mick Jagger, 1966

Astride the beast
Casting cards again
Why must everything imply solution?
The hours pass in the damask of patience
Creating liaisons with stars.
The Queen of Swords, bluejeaned,
Her eyes painted with pessimism,
Her values recovered in time,
Her soul beset with cancer,
She'll have said (something)
You'll have known only too much.
No explanations granted.
No lucky twist of the great wheel.
The Charioteer is just,
Given the hands of blood, the Beast
Is catalyst of this fate.
The shower of many conceptions is
The key turning in locks, blindly but
Purposefully. The World is paradox,
The Shaman is sham.
Science is the child of faith.
Air currents circulate through electrical wire.
Someone starts to explain.


From one of several periods in my life when the cards of the tarot seemed to offer explanation and meaning. Similar in nature to all divinatory systems. Enough symbolic detail that there seems to be some answer or explanation lurking in the pictures. One of the true things I know about using Tarot cards, or the I Ching, is that the subconscious manipulates the imagery and often in ways that are essentially deceitful. This goes along with my idea that the hardest untruths to discover are the ones the self has convinced itself of in the name, usually, of ego. Witness rightwing bloggery, and romantic self-appraisal. So this piece is a response to feeling manipulated in a romantic relationship and having had the experience of the tarot encouraging me to stay in the relationship. Undoubtedly the tarot, as interprested, told me everything would be great after a certain amount of strife. Of course, that was my subconscious desiring what it desired. This would be why I spent fifteen years honking around after the irish girl, through all sorts of scenes and stupid exchanges of poems and conversations. Not to mention a certain amount of intimate behaviours. What a waste, what a waste. My life has been a waste. No one will read these words, but if they do they will know what a fool I have been. It is only now, and only because I have come to the Lady, that I have anything approaching a successful relationship. Without Kimberly I would probably have moved on to a more serious level of self-doubt and dissolution. I would probably drink myself to sleep every night. But, I truly believe the Lady sent Kimberly to keep my head above water. And I am good for her, also. I bring an intelligence and a care to her life and to the life of our child. I guess this is where I will be blogging now.