1

Lyrics For Inner Music

Poetry for Understanding

Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for

The Masters of Humanities Degree
Tiffin University
Tiffin, Ohio

By
Dalva Church
12/07/2008

Dr. Vincent Moore________________________________________

Dr. Sherry Truffin________________________________________

Lyrics For Inner Music #1

Original art by Dalva Church

ii.

Acknowledgements
I would like to thank several professors who were a constant source of feedback
and inspiration. Dr. Vincent Moore, Dr. Sherry Truffin and Professor Anne Marie Fowler
were all instrumental in helping me to shape and edit my poetry. The English Enthusiasts
group of Tiffin University and their advisors also helped me to pare away unnecessary
elements. Every class I took in the pursuit of my degree contributed towards this work
and all of my professors gave me ideas to shape and mold into poetry.
Others were also a mine of support and encouragement. My daughter Heidi puts
up with being a source of subject matter, as well as with my creative fits, and gives me
the smile that enables me to carry on. Friends and family- such as the Lunchtime Poetry
Club, Terry Love, Joanna Church, Cory Kramer, and Brianna Huth- all read, critiqued
and shared their own poetry with me. My sister Cammy provided all the sarcasm that one
could wish for, especially when I got too gloomy.
My mother, who died suddenly while I was working on this project was the first
poet I ever read. I did illustrations for some of her poetry and, while I never cared for it,
her vivid imagery kindled pictures in my mind that never completely left me. This work
is dedicated to her for the love of literature that she inspired in me.

iii.

Introduction

Dr. Donne and Lord Byron, I am convinced, spent may more of their spare
moments asleep or staring aimlessly into the middle distance, or having a lonely chop and
an early night than they would have led us to believe. John Mortimer
The work in this collection is a result of two years of study of the nature and
source of creation. I considered the impetus behind art, story, poetry, verbal
communication, theatre and music. As a practitioner of all of these forms of creation, I
had enjoyed participating in each, but had never really considered why I did them or how
I created. As I went through each of my classes, I paid attention to how and why others
created, the philosophies behind forms of creation, and how and why I created. I directed
a play, acted in a play, attended a masters acting class, created an art exhibit and
presentation to an art gallery, wrote several short stories, took a jazz singing workshop
and wrote and wrote poetry.
For some reason, learning about the source of creativity turned my poetry in a
completely new direction. I realized that the reason I was interested in participating in
creative endeavors of all kinds was that it strengthened my understanding of myself and
of others, and helped me to communicate those understandings to others. Art, I came to
understand, is a mirror into which anyone can gaze and gain insight into the human
psyche and motivations. This understanding changed my focus in writing poetry. Over
iv.

the course of my study, I stopped making overt statements in my writings, and instead
talked about direct and immediate experiences. This allowed my readers to look into the
poetic mirror and see themselves or someone that they know rather than one simple point.
Art is a small piece of hidden truth hinted at or a plain showing of what everyone
already knows but is afraid to look at. True art may induce ecstasy, fear, loathing or
delight; but it can never leave one indifferent. The best art causes the one experiencing it
to leave it a changed person with a new insight into self, others, or life itself. In short, a
work of art is a mystery of epic proportions.
Art is not reproduction of works that have come before or a simple copy of what
is being seen. Rembrandt is art; a student copying Rembrandt is not art. A landscape
painting may be art; then again, it may simply be a lifeless copy. A photograph may be art
or it may simply be a snapshot not even fit for the scrapbook.
The expression of an originally expressed idea is what makes these differences.
The work must express an idea that comes from the mind of its creator, and is expressed
in a way that it has never been expressed before. This idea about originality originates
with Tolstoy, who felt that Artisticcreation is such mental activity as brings dimly
perceived feelings (or thoughts) to such a degree of clearness that these feelings (or
thoughts) are transmitted to other people. He also says that these transmissions should
be original ideas; ones that no one has ever had before.
Art is not a decorative work; something that one may hang on the wall and never
look at again because it does not engage the mind or heart. Paintings reproduced for the
v.

masses and sold at bulk rates fit this category. Advertising, no matter how decorative, is
usually not art. Much of the music that is being made today does not really fit the
category of art, nor does much of the fiction being written. Even the creation of
architecture has become mostly business and not art.
Machines cannot create, only humans can. Even humans may make works created
for the sake of consumption or for simple utility, however. Marketable commodities,
when that is all that they are, do not fit the category of art. Therefore, they may be pretty
but they are not aesthetically pleasing.
Instead, a work should speak with an important message. It must say something
worth hearing. As Tolstoy points out, commercial productions do not qualify as art.
Dewey also states that commercially intended objects are not art. Buy these paper
towels or Buy my album are not messages that art speaks. The language of art says
something more important and worthwhile, and its message can be heard both now and
throughout all time.
The idea that deep truths can be revealed in art and that truth contributes to what
is aesthetically pleasing is also argued by Heidegger. The goal of great art is to reveal
truth. Therefore, adding to the concepts that originality and a sense of timelessness are
important components of what makes art aesthetically pleasing, is the idea that art should
convey a message worth hearing.
The interpretations of the receiver of art have just as much validity as the
meanings of the artist who created the art. This concept means that another important
vi.

aspect of art is that it must be seen or heard and not only send a message, but also have its
messages be received. It is living and conveying truth; and that truth may be beyond the
realizations of its creator.
Clive Bell in his article, The Aesthetic Hypothesis said that, The starting point
for all systems of aesthetics must be the personal experience of a peculiar emotion. The
objects that provoke this emotion we call works of art. Bell believed that form was the
major component in aesthetics, but he also felt that the evocation of emotion was the
touchstone of what makes art, art. The fact that art evokes emotion is a continuation of
the preceding idea. One must see the art and hear its message in order to respond to it.
This response is essentially emotional, or from a deep level. People say that art strikes a
chord within them.
This idea of striking an emotional chord also means that art need not be beautiful
in a traditional sense. It may invoke awe, fear, or anger. As long as it speaks a truth that
brings forth a reaction, then it may be art. This idea that truth is more important than
beauty brings one full circle back to Heidegger, and his avowal of the fact that truth is the
deciding factor in deciding what may be classified as art.
The argument in favor of truth in art does not mean, however, that art need be
didactic. Indeed, the overt nature of didactic works removes them from the category of
art. Work that preaches a sermon tells the viewer or listener what to think. Didactic work
sounds a single note, metaphorically speaking. There is no room for the observer to find
hidden depths in the work, or to participate in creating meaning. Art is a multiviii.

dimensional, multi-layered work. If a work is to speak to everyone, across culture and

time, it must not be so narrow that only those who agree with its single message can find
meaning in it.
Therefore, art is an original idea, interacting with the ideas of others, brought
forth from the soul of a creator. It evokes emotion and moves the receiver to participate in
it because it speaks truth. It is valid across time and space. It is not necessarily created
for any particular purpose; nor should it be viewed with any particular goal in mind. It
may be beautiful or it may be striking. Each work of art can stand alone and speak with
its own voice, yet it may also speak in a setting or along with other works.
Truth is not a single note; it is a symphony, full of chords and layers of many
instruments. Art must reflect that symphony. This collection is meant to be just that- a
part of the symphony, employing the terms of music and creating with words, sounds
literary and musical allusions and pictures. Hopefully it is art. Certainly it has served as a
mirror and a source of reflection about my life and the lives of those I know.

ix.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Pg. iv.

Prelude-Understanding the self

Pg. 1

Illustration All Steamed Up

Interlude-Understanding Personal Relationships

Pg. 15

Illustration Masquerade
Sonata- Understanding Others

Pg. 31

Illustration Interior Design

Postlude-Understandings Based on Literature and Science
Illustration The Butterfly Effect 3

Pg 44

10

Prelude-Understanding the Self

11

All Steamed Up by Dalva Church

12

Concert in the Dark

The lyrics
They were clever
But the music
O, the music
Found my
Sore spots
And soothed
Them well.

13

solar winds of change

standing on the back porch
waiting for guests
i was six
in a tunic and shorts
the wind blew past me
and I watched the clouds
shuttle through the sunny sky
I suddenly felt aware
of my body
painfully so
yet pleasurably too
i felt exposed
as if I were naked
in front of the world
i felt every atom of my being
vibrating with the wind
and the clouds
i leaned on the pillar and
never wanted to go in
ever again

14

The Passion
I wrote my own myth,
the myth of my life.
There was an epic theme:
I offered myself
as a sacrifice
again and again,
with daily flagellations and crucifixions of
my heart and mind
For the sins of my fathersthe passing along of agony and abuse
from generation to generation;
the marriage that my parents
could never make work but could never leave.
For the sins of my pastthe failed relationships that
I could not fix;
the thousand daily faults and mistakes
that I alone am not allowed to give way to
for I must be perfect.
For the sins of the worldYes, even the mistakes of others
Find their way onto my back,
I carry the responsibility for the
failings of all who come into contact with me;
I chose to drag them all with me,
my personal cross to bear.
Yet I am never redeemed.
I cant allow it.
Martyr to all who will use meOthers benefit
from my pain,
while my suffering never ends.

15

Leviathan
Something moves in the depths
Something I have never seen before
Or at least for so long
I no longer know what it is
I need to know it
Before I allow it to surface
You have caused this rising
By your presence and
Your probing
You have raised the secret beast
I never wished
To see again
I feared it for so long
Repressed it
Forgot it was there
But I am unable
To keep it submerged
Any more
I feared its awakening
And feared to see its ravenous face
And now that it has risen
I find that the dragon
Has my own face
It is me

16

Down the Drain

Into the vortex
of mind versus soul
Swirling confusion
Ridiculous pain
Time interjects
But no words can express
The intricate meaning
Of moments and hours.
Into the vortex of
Heart versus head
Swirling confusion
Ridiculous pain
Your words interject
Yet fail to impress
On intricate dancing
Of feelings and sighs.
Into the vortex
Of infinite rhyme
I pour out my reasons
And pain
Line by line.

17

On the Film
I was exposed
When very young
The imprint made
Long ago
Further
Developments
Of the same nature
Continued the story
Told the same tale
And now the spool plays
Over and over
The stories of sadness
In black and white
Completely outdated
Completely untrue
And yet
To me
They are reel

18

Fine Line
She drew this line in the sand
And she saidI wont put up with this
anymore.
I wont be used
I wont go on guilt trips
(you cant make me)
I wont listen to abuse
of any kind
I will speak up for myself
Ill take care of myself
I wont care what others think of me
I wont let myself
Be manipulated
But then a wave came
And washed away
Her line...

19

Daystar, Nightstar
My heart
Like the moon
Cold
Mostly unexplored
Only reflecting light
No one wants to
Touch down and stay
Just a brief visit
Does for most
My heart
like a star
burning
completely unexplored
putting off heat
no one wants to
even touch down
the flame is too
hot for most.

20

Dissection
Cut a little deeper, says the resident
Guiding the hand of the inexperienced intern.
The scalpel goes in farther
Exposing all that is within.
There is little bleeding
Since the patient is already dead.
They move aside various organs,
Looking for the cause of death.
Nothing much comes to light:
Shattered dreams
Loneliness
Pain
Rejection
Stress
It shouldnt be enough to kill.
The dissection continues,
Carefully they remove the heart.
Look at this, says the intern.
Look at the extensive scarring on the heart.
Everyone looks closely, with no feeling,
Examining the patients broken heart
In a cold and clinical way
And they discuss him as if he were not there.
But he can still hear them

21

Learning by Experience
You would think that
we would have learned by nowThe deeper the cut
The more we require
To heal it.
Yet we stubbornly persist
in struggling on with life
while gaping wounds bleed
all over those
around us.
You would think that
we would have learned by nowThe larger the loss
the longer the time
to recover it.
Yet we stubbornly persist
in struggling on with life
while gaping holes
show our insides to those
around us.

22

Sleepless Night
If I plunge into these depths
Once again
Plumb the disquietude
Of soul
Which I
And I alone
Can ever know
Whats the point?
I eat my shame and
Regurgitate ingratitude and
Doubt
But am not purged
I am unchanged
I cut and heal
Bite and mend
Sew and rend
Whip the dervishes of
My circular thoughts
Into frenzy
And up nowhere
Equal to myself
Yet I do it all once
And again
Only to find I have
Not even left my bed
Let alone my head

23

Strange Bedfellows
This person is a stranger
And undecided
he peers in
Feels the feelings
Thinks the thoughts
Moves the arms, legs
Thighs, quivering lips
Pounding heart
He is no closer to knowledge
he sinks into
Rhythmic movement
Even orgasm
Listens to whispers
From the past,
Present, future
Words of love
He is unmoved
By the heart which
Is his own
Yet which belongs
To someone else
Some stranger
He doesnt even
Want to know.

24

Hopscotch
In the bottom of the bottle
did I find
that I had lost my heart
but saved my mind.
I skipped through life
Without a soul to touch
And mystified them all
With double dutch.
I never dropped more than
A veil or two,
And whether I was real
No one quite knew.
So I have faked my way
Through every day
And found that I just dont
Know how to play.
But now the bottles empty
And Ive been
Naked all along
Yet no ones seen.
Ill raise another glass
And drop my part;
Perhaps Ill lose my mind
And find my heart.

25

Interlude-Understanding Personal Relationships

Masquerade by Dalva Church

26

ABOUT LAST NIGHT

I cannot recapture
The feel of your skin against mine
The taste of your lips
The sound of your heart beating
I cannot remember
The way your eyes looked
The softness of your touch
The cries of passion calling
I do not re-live
The moments of rapture
The words that you said
The things that we did
At least not more
Than once
Every five minutes
Or so

Baby Love
Nascent feelingshalf recognized,
half denied.
Infant,
frightening in its vulnerabilityunwanted love child.
A decision to be madeabortion or acceptance?

27

Tango
The dance never seems to end.
He leads, she follows,
Or she leads and he follows,
Step by step
They move in time
The rhythm perfect.
But it is no dance of love.
No salsa, no samba,
No smooth and gliding waltz.
It is a tango,
The sham of love,
Covered by lust.
Yet the dance goes on.
He leads, she follows,
Or she leads and he follows,
Because
A tango is better
Than no dance
At all.

28

Pavlovian Romance
By Dalva Church
Its happened before,
You have me well trained.
The stimulus and the response
You told a few lies,
betrayed a few trusts.
Does any of this ring a bell?
So now I distrust,
I fear to believe.
The stimulus and the response
You swear you have changed,
Beg me not to leave.
Does any of this ring a bell?
But I am afraid,
I cannot relax.
The stimulus and the response
And so we both prove
Were no better than dogs.
Does any of this ring a bell?

29

Too Little, Too Late

Now that you have taken
Everything you can from meThere is nothing left
That I can give
(Though I have
a heart for giving).
You have bled me
Repeatedly and shamelessly
(Though I admit I gave
Blood freely).
So now that I am drained and dry
And feel empty of
The will to be generous;
Now you come to me
And say you love me.

30

Consternation Fade-Out
He said he didnt understand her, never hadShe said she couldnt take the indecision any moreHe said he was confused and didnt know what she wantedShe said she knew perfectly well what she wanted, he just wasnt itHe said she was crazyShe said he had no room to talkHe said she was too emotionalShe said he wasnt emotional enoughHe said women were impossibleShe said men were egotisticalHe said she drove him crazyShe said that meant he WAS crazyHe suddenly laughedBy the way, I am pregnant
She said.

31

Let Sleeping Hearts Lie

I do not want to feel this way
Yet I do
This heaven and hell
In my heart
Why now?
I ask my heart
But it has no answers
Only the feelings
I am not readyNot even willingIve only ever
played at love before
And now it has me
By the throat
And Im not sure
If I should fight
Or should surrender

32

Swinging
I say maybe yes
Then take it back to no
I take the ring
I give it back
I think forever
Then want to end it
Does it matter?
It does not
Or it does
Or it doesnt
I love only you
I love everyone
I love you
I hate you
I want you
But dont need you
I am angry
I am happy
I say maybe yes
Then take it back to
No

33

Flirting- With Disaster

I know what you are up to.
I know why the sidling movements,
The awkward silences,
Those slighting glances.

I know what you are doing

and I must say,
I approve.

Falling
Are you tired?
She shook her head.
He knew. He knew that deep,
inward look didnt mean she was tired.
It meant that she was thinking something over.
For some reason,
a reason he didnt care to examine too closely,
that knowledge delighted him.

34

Concert of Mind
Point and counterpoint
Meet
In the middle
Harmony
Melody
Duet
Perfect together.
Making beautiful music
As out minds meet
Then compliment
One another,
Then meet again
Point and counterpoint.
What an
Ever-interesting note
We interject into
One anothers
ThoughtsWhat music!

35

Is It Love?
You
TypicalGave
How

Me

Over

Rose
I
Pricked

All
Bled
Then

Myself
Thorns

On
Its

36

seduction

He was quiet
so she
could sleep
gathering his clothes
glancing at her
where she lay
then she sighed and
he bent to kiss her
she raised her lips
to him
like a child
to be kissed
and he
fell in love
all over
again

37

The Cream in My Coffee

Eating breakfast with youyou read the paperI talk to the catanother cup of coffeewith cream
What will you do today
I askyou gruntI sighanother cup of coffee
with cream
Who are you?
Did I ever know you?
I look carefully at your faceanother cup of coffee
with cream
You finally look at meYes? you askI look down at my cupyou get impatientNothing I sayyou leave
Another cup of coffee
with cream

38

Parking It
The window to the sky
made of leaves
swaying gently
mesmerizes me
while the wind sings me
songs of soothing
the tree stares
unabashedly at me
looking me over
deciding I will go
while it will stay
clouds tickle my eyes
taunting me
through the window
an ant finds something fascinating
about my hand
the grass pointedly ignores me
and you sit there
dabbling in my soul.

39

The Exorcism
Light the candle
Ring the chime
Chant the poem
Without rhyme
Draw the circle
With the stone
Dance around it
All alone
Feet beat harder
Anger rising
Your heart, my heart
Apart prising
Words of breaking
Flesh rejected
Release of hatred
Heart protected
He and she now
Parted ever
Once were one now
Two forever

40

The Lover After Me

Sometimes
I think you have said
these things before.
Said them to
the lovers before me.

Did you tell them

That you never felt this way before?
That you never loved this much before?
That you never felt this deep before?

Sometimes
I think that you will say
all these things again.
Say them to
the lover after me.

41

Sonata- Understanding Others

Interior Design by Dalva Church

42

Chain Link Fence

Forged in fear
Flame of pain
Hard as steel
Link by link
You decided
Who
they would be
Abusive words
Abusive acts
Hardened heart
Link by link
You told them
What
they would feel
Stilted roles
Quelled desires
Stifled dreams
Link by link
You
Fenced them in

43

Heart
Head
You failed to see the pain in my eyes.
You refused to see the pain in my face.
You flat-out ignored my words so clear.
You would not listen to the pain in my voice.

You failed to see how fragile was my hold.

You refused to see how I was barely hanging on.
You flat-out ignored my words so clear.
You would not listen to the sound of me letting go.

You failed to see my taking of the pills.

You refused to see the alcohol I washed them down with.
You flat-out ignored my suicide note.
You would not listen to the sound of me leaving

44

Falling Mood
The leaves fall
and simply reflect
her state of mind.

She keeps telling herself that

this beautiful, yet wholesale, dying
is just a temporary thing;

that she will bloom again with

fresh love budding,
new ideas sprouting,
adventures bursting forth.

Yet the sky is still gray

and no lovely colored leaves are left
to comfort her,
and spring seems
so very far away.

45

GOSSIP
-he said
-she said
-they said
-I said
-you said
-we said

with wicked glee

-did you hear?

laceratingmasticatingsalivatingruminatingurinating-

with animal glee

-did you hear?

46

The Funeral
I go through the motions
shake the hands
so weakly
thanks given where deserved
yet is it meant?

All I wish for is

for these people
to let me be
to allow me a moments grace
to feel my pain.

Pitilessly
and yet full
of pity
they continue coming
and requiring of me
what I must give
but have no
means left
with which to give.

47

Beyond Skin Deep

There is a beauty
Only the eyes of love may see
Only love will open that vision
So that true loveliness may be seen
I saw it today in my grandmother
Who is dying
Beyond the skin stretched loosely over bone
Beyond the slack jaw and empty eyes
Seeing worlds I could not
Beyond the illness and the pain
She was beautiful beyond compare
Her very self took my breath away and
Made me silent
I have caught glimpses
Of this beauty before now
In my daughters smiling face
And in my sons mischievous grin
But never did I recognize it so clearly as today
And so
In what should have been the grim face of death
Was afforded to me
A vision of loveliness
Celestial and surreal
And a hunger was born in me
As well
To see the beauty
In everyone I love
And to someday
Have someone see it
In me

48

The Id
She sneaks under my skin
Feeling what I feel
Knowing what I think
She hears my thoughts
And steals them
Strips me bare and
Searches my depths
Leaving me bereft of privacy
She has rifled through
Every corner of my mind
And taken every stronghold
She knows everything about me
Can laugh at my disquietude and
My naked self

But II know nothing of her

And have stolen aback
Nothing
But the memory of a kiss.

49

For Mr X, Who Does Not Like My Imagery, and Has Issues- A Bit of Doggerel
The snakes of indecision
Coil and slither round your soulShould and shouldnt, Musts and mustnt
Tighten round your brain
Until you can no longer think straight.
The wolves of need feed upon
Your entrails
Pulling out hopes and dreams
Rending future possibility
And bleeding out
The last of hearts desire.
The penguins of postponement
Peregrinate across the
Frozen tundra of your soul
Carrying the egg of your
unrealized dreams.
In a line they march
To the sea of commitment,
Where they arrive in a pack
of peculiar waddling confusion,
Only to turn back and return again
to where they began, unswum.
Trampling with frozen feathers
To an undisclosed location
With promise unfulfilled.

50

The Family Dinner

They come as they have always come
To suck me dry as dust
My loving family.
I scatter in the wind
When they are done.
They talk and talk
With nothing said and
Nothing concluded.

51

Argument Among Friends

Hands
fluttering
around
my head like
birds
of all sizes
some dark
some light
smacking together
and
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
mortally wounded
only to
flutter
back up again
reinvigorated

52

Eye Speak
You stand,
I sit,
We quietly talk
about mundane things,
With occasional silences.
Yet between us,
Is a deep pool
Full of all the things
As yet unsaid.
I wait for you,
And you wait for me,
To break the silence,
To cross the water.
Then our eyes meet,
And for a moment,
There is understanding
Of all the things
As yet unsaid.
I drop my eyes first,
Shy, as always,
But not before seeing,
The kindness in your eyes.
And still I hear
The echoes of
That pebble dropped into
The deep water
Of all the things unsaid.

53

Even Smaller Talk

Did you hear about Rebecca?
She got flu from the shot.
Did you hear?
I had Pie for breakfast.
I need to lose some weight.
Did you hear?
the latest book
the latest movie
the latest diet
the latest pill
the latest shame
She left the room
for she prefers
conversation to
small talk.

54

Postlude-Understandings Based on Literature and Science

The Butterfly Effect 3 by Dalva Church

55

Whitmans Playmates
We have wrestled with the truth
And lostEvery time we lose.
Jacobs angel
Has touched us and
The tell-tale literary limp
Clues in all those
Who have wrestled,
As have we.
A secret and under-skin society we,
Unafraid to face factsWilling to stare even death
In the eyes.
Laughing at quantum physics and
Alternate universes:
Our playthings.
Able to write our souls
On a page,
And admit all our sins
With a pen.
Ask us no questions
And well tell you
No truths.

56

Rorschach Sky
Who decides that the stars are
Orion,
Or a dipper or a bear?
Or a lion?
I dont see what others see
When I look up,
when I look in.
I see something entirely new,
Something no one else has seen before.
I cant see through a microscope
or a telescope.
I dont see what they tell me I should;
They laugh at me and tell me
Its plain.
Why cant I see what others see?
Why cant others see what I do?
In the immense game of
Connect the dots
Which we all play,
Why cant I play well with others?
They all agree
A lion,
A bear,
Orion.
While I see
Beings singing,
A cosmic dance,
A face,
A unicorn
Or sometimes just
The stars.

57

TILTING AT WINDMILLS
There you go again off to battle,
with armor made of household items,
some poor soul conscripted
to be your Sancho Panza.
You see giants everywhere
of your own making,
so with a broomstick for a lance
off you go.
Like the Gentlemen of old
ever ready
to throw down a gauntlet
for a slight.
But you do not fight
for fair Dulcinea,
Nor tilt at windmills
for loveRather you are always
ready for battle,
Just to protect
your foolish pride.

58

Cognitive
The wheels are turning
sparks are burning
in my head
The clicking clacking
thought not lacking
in my head
And never stopping
always working
in my head
All gears are moving
one another
in my head
I wish for freedom
from the turning
in my head
relentless motion
makes me crazy
in my head
The ticking tocking
interlocking
in my head
I can not stop it
try to stop it
in my head
I get distracted
fall off track then
in my head
The gears start slipping
no clack clicking
in my head
-I fall asleep

59

Non Trip to the Museum

The city moved
And shook me
To the core
The noise and heat
Sheer numbers of people
Bewildering
Mazes of streets
Dont stop, dont stop
Everything and everyone said
Colors, faces, places all a blur
Looking for a destination
That never materialized
Hoping for an oasis
there was only
concrete
and dusty spiritless
glass and steel and people
dont stop, dont stop, dont

60

Fall Requiem
The strong winds rushed the river,
Sending it to its destination ever faster.
There are no destinations,
Said its voice, Only journeys.
The water pounded the rocks
I relished the sound
The few remaining birds
Sang their dirge in the leafless treesWinter is coming, warmth is gone,
They lamented.
The water washed the shore
I relished the sight
Red berries here and there
Brighten the bleak landscapeThe last offering of the bushes
To fatten and sustain
The tiny mourners.
The cold wind also sighed
Through the treesIt comes, it comes
And kissed my cheeks with a sting
Then the first snow of winter began to fall.

61

TICK TOCK
He hears the clock
Beside his bed,
It ticks away
his life.
He lies awake
And watches life
Ebb and flow
The sands in the
Hourglass
Make no sound
But time moves
Loudly here.
He is afraid that
He hasnt livedAnd never willAnd then hell die
With nothing done...
And the clock ticks,
And the clock tocks,
And the pendulum swings
Back
And
Forth
Just for him...
He cant slow it down
He cant speed it up
Hes afraid of what it means.
The relentless progression
Of time,
It holds no meaning
For him...
Because now
He cannot move
And he cannot progress
And he really cannot
Tell time.

62

Decomposition
Body gone
Mind too
One with
Dirt

63

String Theory
Everyone has voices in their head,
He said.
All the most creative people
Hear voices
Moses, Joan of Arc
I laughed,
Then sobered.
Where are my voices?
Did I hear them?
Have I missed them?
Ooooo- They are there.
They do not whisper
Divine revelation.
They whipsnake
Across my brain
In the dead of night
Breathing pink flame
That sears the soul.

64

Im Having Tea With Alice

I have on my best hat
And Ive shined my shoes,
It isnt my birthday at allIve polished my eyeglass
Plus polished my teeth,
And waltzed my coat tree
down the hall.
I sent out the invites
Addressed all to me,
And answered them
Promptly (I RSVP).
I unmade the bed
Then re-made the cake,
And got lots of milk for the tea.
I put on my best coat
Because it may rain,
Then left my umbrella at home,
I had tea with Alice
A very odd girl that,
Her hair really needed a comb.
So we all sipped politely
From each others cups
And shared deepest thoughts
now and then.
What a group! Were so jollyBut she cant do folly
We wont invite Alice again.

65

Schrdingers Cat is Hunting Us

We keep finding what we are looking for
only not what we would like to find.
We keep opening doors to the unknown
only to discover the same old thing.
We keep sneaking into Pandoras box
only to unleash our sins again.
We keep cringing on in the same old way
only because were afraid to look.
So why is it that, time after time,
We keep hoping to find
something different?

66

Not Afraid Of Virginia Woolf

I was reading Virginia Woolf
(Reading is my drug of choice)
but not really reading per se-More like experiencing
her vision of the world
and recognizing that world
as one I often inhabitSwimming in
a sea of impressions
thinking/feeling muddled together
Sudden moments of absolute clarity
cutting through Lifes facade
and seeing ones self and others
through a magnifying glass and a telescope
all at onceTime passes quickly in
a cascade of emotions
stopping suddenly
on a line of thought
that leads only
to
chaos

67

Strange Quark
Theres a scar on my hand
That wont go away
And in three hours
I can go home
She said.
When I look at myself
In the mirror
I am a different
Person each time
She said.
(Only two hours now)
My handwriting changes
From day to day
And I cant think why
She said.
(twenty minutes).
I cant stop
This endless fidgeting
I just change from
One twitch to another
Time to go home
She said.

68

SURREAL PAINTING
Life on speeded-up film
Passes by me
As I move in
Super-slow motion
People rushing past
Thinking, feeling
Making decisions
(Some which even seem
to involve me)
but I am
not affected
I feel nothing
I cannot tell
If life is passing me by
Or if I am the
Only one living
I rest on a park bench
The pigeons madly
Peck and coo
Making grey blurs
While I am still
My soul remains inviolate
While my emotions scream in agony
Until I turn
The sound down
I cannot tell
If I am real
Or if the sped-up world
Rushing by me
Is reality
My features stretch
Then blur
Then move no more
And everything around me is
Just streaks
Of light

69

I AM
The little girl
holds out
a picture of
herself
to passers by
Do you know who I am?
she asks, her anguish apparentno one answers
The young lady
takes the picture
and compares
it to all
the passers by
Do you know who I am?
goes unanswered
because she finds
no match
The woman
stares intently
at the picture
concentrating
on the questionDo you know who I am?
but the emptiness
and the silence
prevail
Finally the crone
throws the picture
in the fire
sits quietly
watching it burn
and seeing her own soul
Do you know who I am?
fades away
as the soul finally answers
You Are

70

Shock Value
random lightening
weakening
exciting me
pink
red
blue
sizzlecrackle
electrons firing
in my brain
neurons
atoms
cells
chemicals
dendrils connect
disconnect
electroshock therapy
is nothing
next to this.

71

QUANTUM TUNNELING
I see you
And you think that you see me
How good I have become at hiding my true self
Come and find meYou have touched me once or twice
And so you think that you own me now
That I am yours
Come and find meYou saw a glimpse of hair
A sheen of soul
And think you know who I am
Come and find meMy face is still hidden
More terrible and more beautiful
Than you can imagine
Come and find meThe things I have seen
Have made my eyes old
Could you bear them?
Come and find meCan you look into my eyes, uncovered
Brave the glory of god
Risk the turning to stone
Learn what hides in the dark
And see for one moment
The things I have seen?
Come and find meOr will you too
Give up
Find someone easier to take
Turning your eyes away
From splendor and from grief?
Come and find me-

72

Communion
I am life
Sparkling and dancing
Bubbling and murmuring
Swirling and exciting
Ever moving
Ever changing
Reflecting your face
at the bottom of your
wineglass,
Waiting to be drunk to the dregs.
No more hesitation,
Put the glass
To your lips.
Taste me and
Drink your fill.
Give up your empty days and
Emptier nights
And start living.
I am life.

73

Bibliography
Bell, Clive. The Aesthetic Hypothesis. Art. New York: Chatto & Windus, 1981. 15-34.
Dewey, John. Art as Experience. New York: Perigree, 1980. Chap. 1-2. 3-27.
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. Chapters 1-3. Introduction to Aesthetics (Berlin
Aesthetics Lectures of 1820s. Trans. T. M. Knox. Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1975. 1-14.
Heidegger, Martin.The Origin of the Work of Art. Poetry, Language, Thought. Trans. A.
Hofstader. Lectures 1 & 2. New York: Harper & Row, 1971. 32-48.
Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Aesthetic Judgement. Trans. J. C. Meredith. Sections 1-14,
16, 23-24, 28. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952.
Tolstoy, Leo. On Art. What is Art? and Essays on Art. Trans. A. Maude. London:
Oxford University Press, 1930. 46-61.