from one to zen
the moment has arrived
the moment is over
— Zumwalt (1998)
Archive for the ‘Poem’ Category
MID-FLIGHT
MID-FLIGHT
We rush, a black throng,
Straight upon darkness:
Motes and missions scattered
By the arc’s rays.
Over the bridge fluttering,
It is theater-time,
No one heeds.
Lost amid greyness
We will sleep all night;
And in the morning
Coming forth, we will shake wet wings
Over the settled dust of to-day.
The sky reflects its open expanse to make us larger
The city hurls its cobbled streets after us,
To drive us faster.
Ascertain the darkness
Before endless processions
Of lamps
Push us back.
A clock with quivering hands
Leaps to the trajectory-angle of our departure.
We leave behind pale traces of achievement:
Fires that we kindled but were too tired to put out,
Broad gold fans brushing softly over dark walls,
Stifled uproar of night.
We are already cast forth:
The signal of our departure
Jerks down before we have learned to where we are to go.
— Zumwalt (2011)
Strangely struggling in Shangri-La
Strangely struggling in Shangri-La
Shaken and stirred beneath the slime
I culpably allow darkening tentacles to disperse my many parts:
the little wisps of attention,
sinister and poisonous,
bend misty claws.
This night keeps extending,
strikingly silent under the depths,
invoking quaking hands above the clouds.
Such despair! The future is vanishing
straddling the light —
the next race waiting
to which such dreams
withering victims
aspire.
-Zumwalt (2016)
The Grand Panjandram
The Grand Panjandram
In dark draped light, they set the stage with positively pessimistic preposterous pronouncements:
open-ended, close-minded —
an onslaught of oozing, slimy, backbiting, backstabbing, bamboozling, bath-bubble babble.
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers but where the heck is the peck that Peter Piper picked?
Blame the government! Blame the moderators! Blame the other politicians!
Blame the prosperous! Blame the lazy, liberal-influenced, moral-obliterating, freeloading nameless discontents! Blame blame, but oh, so blamelessly….
Our media plays politics, shamelessly positioned cross-legged on the tracks of the central station throwing rocks at the podiums of the office seekers and office sitters who madly craft the nightly news peering over the simmering cauldron as they add tortoise ears and bat eyes to their brew.
They know nothing is knowable; the perception of reality is reality: reality is only what is perceived.
I had a little nut-tree, nothing it would bear, but nuts are scattered everywhere along with rampant fear. Predictably, my mind wanders until there is no more silliness to hear while my unsuspecting stomach growls as the choruses of the shameless masses cheer.
I know reality.
It is that thinner-than-thread string that connects one thought to another and one moment to the next.
I know consequences. These are things that happen in direct proportion to lack of diligence.
The end follows the beginning; but also sets up every new beginning. Each possibility is the result of each result.
I will set aside my expectations — of what reality should be — to go along with the ride. It will ultimately lead to the next ride and at some point there will be a chance to get off, walk away and look back at the vast, almost infinite, devastation.
— Zumwalt (2016)
Cousteau and Darwin Move to Suburbia
Cousteau and Darwin Move to Suburbia
Like pilot fish
Affixed, transfixed
Upon the gluttonous chin
Of the maneater,
We give thanks and
Humbly suck the detritus
From Fate’s
Serrated mandibles.
The irony of Sophocles
Is just the symbiosis
Of little fish
And unevolved vertebrates
Scrubbing their gills
With polluted waters,
Lacking the initiative
To crawl up the bank, and breathe.
— Zumwalt (1981)
