The Tin Woodsman

 

I’m a Tin Man

a thin man

a not-so-thick-of-skin man.

I’m not tan

(a bit wan)

an alley, not-so Tin Pan.

Not Dapper Dan

nor Clippers fan

If I only had a plan!

***

 

It Will Never Grow

The steel tree with glass leaves

is impervious to the elements 

and beautiful in its own way

but it will never grow. 

You must absorb suffering

like rain and prune 

what is dead in order

for the soul to grow.

***

The Shadow Doesn’t Lie

The shadow doesn’t lie 

but neither is it 

the whole truth. 

Yet we are preoccupied 

with imagining layers 

we know nothing of.

***

The Chameleon

 

Blending in 

or

zoning out?

(the two are 

not mutually

exclusive)

Spending zen

or

muck about?

(understanding

them may

be elusive)

Either way he is The Chameleon.

***

Waiting for a Storm

Waiting for the storm to arrive on this island vacation getaway

(the family sleeping in, maybe dreaming of the coming deluge)

  

Strange feelings are surfacing listening to 

Wish You Were Here

“two lost souls living in a fishbowl, year after year”

and thinking of Kevin,  

wondering where he is right now,

understanding place and time are problematic 

once someone has passed out of this waking life 

where it seems an inordinate amount of time 

is spent simply waiting for a storm, 

hunkered down in a bubble of fleeting calm 

before it hits and the skies cry.

***

 

What is it About Beauty?

 

What is it about beauty 

that sets the universe aright?

It’s like deep breathing 

and suddenly understanding 

what oxygen is and how

the body takes it in to use.

It is the sudden intuition 

of the interconnectedness

of creation and our role 

as participants, as recipients 

of Divine grace, love, fullness 

of truth, and yes, beauty.

***

“McCarty”

 

The soldier screams

while Idu broods and

the books gather dust.

Memories of Kevin

pulse in the dark,

his signature glowing

in the light of Grandma’s

lamp that grounds me 

in a spiritual metaphor.

***

In thinking of Kevin, life invariably becomes a canvas and beauty reveals itself.

My friendship with him had a very brief flowering before I left for the Army at the start of my senior year at Indiana Wesleyan.  I had loaned him a book for a Dr. Martin class which may or may not have been “Western Intellectual and Social History” which we fondly referred to as WISH.

He was living in the studio apartment below me and Jacob Isang.  Jacob was a dashing and popular soccer player from Nigeria and friends with Idu Ikadabu who was a fellow soccer player also from Nigeria.  Idu later sat for a portrait with Kevin while I was gone which now hangs in my office.

Kevin was quick to make our acquaintance as new neighbors though I’m not sure Jacob knew what to make of this half-blind artist dude.  My memory is sketchy but I seem to remember my last glimpse of Kevin was from the back elevated porch of my apartment as he disappeared around the side of the house holding the red book.

I spent the next two years in Korea as an infantryman before returning to Marion, Indiana and reconnecting with Kevin which blossomed into a bona fide friendship.  We bonded over books, music, and intellectual pursuits spending untold hours talking about art, political ideologies, philosophical systems, and metaphysical conundrums as well as some downright silly stuff which may or may not have included all of the above.

After graduation I had to make special trips up to Marion to hang out with him or take him on some adventure as he could not drive due to his poor eye sight.  I found my way into the Orthodox Church through that time period and that increasingly became a topic of conversation between us which lead to him becoming an OC fellow traveller.  

And eventually he fully lost what little sight he had due to a reoccurrence of the cancer that he had been born with.  This drug out over an extended period of chemotherapy and surgeries but his embracing of a Faith grounded in being and experience (as opposed to ideas and intellectualism) deepened him in ways I could have never imagined possible in the years we had spent together thinking lofty thoughts and talking deep into the night but mostly just running in circles.  

The books had gathered dust but his soul was gathering light and life in his latter years.

Luna Gardens

 

Earth floated over Luna Gardens 

like a blue marble on black velvet.  

The artificially augmented sunlight 

filled every corner of this verdant space

surrounded by the bluish-green glow 

of hermetically sealed glass and steel.

But the rocks were real and the plants

had crossed space as sleeping seeds

only to awaken & grow in their new home 

to gift oxygen to their fellow travelers.

It was a home away from home where 

symbiosis sustained life in cooperation

(not competition which had become 

the bane of those unfortunate earthlings).

***

Escape Velocity

 

What is the 

escape velocity 

of an 

Angelic Being?

What is the 

needed veracity 

for a blind 

man unseeing?

It is the 

certainty of Faith.

Of knowing 

and being known.

It is the

conquering of fear

when all 

else have flown.

***

The Incubator

 

The unconscious mind is 

an incubator of ideas that

form and float to the level

of consciousness through

dreams and free roaming 

thoughts that call it out.

***

Liminal Limitations

 

I stand at the door that leads to the liminal space of life.

It is a finite space between two doors: birth and death.

It is a mysterious maze with what seems to be too many

possibilities, the terror of choice charging every particle.

It is no wonder so many barrel through the black door 

prematurely to escape the burden of living & choosing.

But I think it is important to choose life in all its liminal 

limitations, looking for love in the cracks and crevices.

***