The architect; 12.21.24

Random thoughts in December

it is unseasonably warm

I welcome it

a chance to get in some bike rides

to swim without freezing

at least as much

How meaningless the holidays

without you.

I am busy

There is a project due next week

along with the holiday stuff

which is meaningless

insert without you where appropriate

A meeting I should follow up

where did it go?

lost in the mail

Why was it so good

Was it trust

love

were we right to depend on either one

were we right not to fight more

about what we both knew

was it so wrong to need someone

to need to hear you out

instead of hearing silence

to want to share

life

death

Is it so terribly wrong \

to reach out

to need to reach out

Everything is wrong with this life. 

Too much responsibility.

too little compensation

 Too much knowledge. 

What am i suppose to do with this  

for certainly i feel compelled 

to do something.

 My task seems impossible 

so why give me the knowledge to begin it. 

I will certainly die with it 

unfinished

 so why make me start?

And why should I serve a universe

so cruel

as to hold you in front of me

and deny me you

Kacey Musgraves - The Architect (Official Music Video) - YouTube

12.14.24 Days of Ghosts

I try to forget things

To just enjoy this time

of festive ghosts

who only scare you

to make you better

But the book I am reading 

had to drag everything back

But if it wasn't the book

It would be something

else

Because you

can't kill

Ghosts

a memory is like a ghost

and there are ghosts all around

this time of year

a dead friend's ghost

from a long time ago

one who saw one

of the dumbest things

I'd ever done

and that is saying something

the ghost of christmas past

of christmas yet to come

of this christmas

And what are ghosts

except unfinished dreams

what do we have left

A ghost of a chance?

Things are grim

not the end of the world grim

not we're all ghosts grim

not the christmas yet to come

with all the horrors it promises

But things are tight

a temporary terror

until there is time

for permanent terror

what you left me with

you made me the one

to deal with terror

I don't know what to do

But I need to do something

I can wait

for quite a while i think

for the things coming

the things i cannot stop

things that should happen

scare them away for a moment

but they will come back

I used to be afraid of ghosts

Now I wish i could see them

again

like your ghost

my old ghost

Our ghost

who we were

what we were

instead of

who we are

ghosts in waiting

i am not sure 

there is enough 

of me left

of us left

to make a ghost

and what is our ghost

except an unfinished

something

Something i chase 

with my science

but i can never catch it

something i waited

too long before i needed it

not a dream ghost

despite the noble quest

even if you were in it

it would be better

but its still the same

a nightmare ghost

Enough of that, here is an interesting article

Ghost towns show Greece's battle with falling birth rate, depopulation

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12.7.25 Saturday

 I think it is safe to say

that if love dies of neglect

if love cannot endure

a fading light

then our arrangement 

was not love

my longing heart

my teary eyes 

cannot see

how to build a bridge

to separate us for good

or for evil

Holiday joy

winter hush

loves embrace

the fleeting bliss of sex

all gone

nothing left but memory

the burden of knowledge

you saddled me with

you owed it to me

to share the burden 

if not forever

then for better or worse

 it was both

what is hope

for what I don't know

the one thing i could cling to

in the metaphorical storm

that washes away all meaning

is what you left 

you wont come back

there is no reason 

I have no expectations 

and nothing to offer

Delusion is left

And nightmares

occasionally a video 

That make me smile

for lost dreams 

https://youtu.be/ukfNXFgUEiU?si=uAlOFw-4bz54JPSU

A real poem: Original Fire

Leave the dishes.

Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.

Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.

Throwms the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.

Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.

Don't even sew on a button.

Let the wind have its way, then the earth

that invades as dust and then the dead

foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.

Talk to them. 

Tell them they are welcome.

Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles

or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry

who uses whose toothbrush or if anything

matches, at all.

Except one word to another.

Or a thought.

Pursue the authentic-decide first

what is authentic, then go after it with all your heart.

Your heart, that place you don't even think of cleaning out.

That closet stuffed with savage mementos.

Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner again. 

Don't answer the telephone, ever,

or weep over anything at all that breaks.

Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons

in the refrigerator. 

Accept new forms of life

and talk to the dead who drift in though the screened windows,  who collect patiently on the tops of food jars and books.

Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything

except what destroys the insulation between yourself and your experience

or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters this ruse you call necessity. 

~Louise Erdrich, Original Fire