orgami's Diaryland
Diary
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there
growling and prowling the sun was a blot in the sky
feathered and dull
like impressionist painters
sun coffee and sugar
flavouring and chocolate
bars turning over the fire
and fanning flames
seeking whats already inside
for thirty years
answers that will never come and memories of long dead
partisans and intimates
snow falling and mists
the smell of burning waste
in stoves plastics and
cardboard
people walking dogs in droves
fresh air excursions and away the lonely call of
freights so much tidying to do yet
the loose ends
the piled high gathered
boxes
the clothes that dont fit
and now christmas stuff
still out for another month
here or more so late pushing myself awake Im not going to fathom any
answers
find any peace
sitting on a chair
and tapping on keys all the connections are
working the long alive
and short dead ones
the ending and the beginning
are all here
in the Now it is all we have although some say Dreamtime
is something more
that sleeping awake
there are doors
that some can percieve
beyond the known like looking in the mirrors
and seeing your face stare back
only its not your face sometimes not your eyes not mine see Im tired
but not that tired I remember the old superstitions
here and on the Rezervations we have gone past the pagan time
the star times now
overhead turning on the dog star the winter months when the hungry
spirits walk for the living
restless nights if I stay awake i will remain
here my spirit in my body
it will not go running in the
frozen landscapes of time
no swooping through the river
bends and across the half frozen
lakes around ice coated water
towers and blinking towers it will stay here and the morning light will
tell me its time I sleep I have no talismans I have only poems
that are no longer mine time to go and dream
now
5:53 a.m. - 2009-12-27
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