uni-verses

uni-verses

there is a notion that time exists
only within the folds of the brain
this material slice of reality perceived
dimensions sequence
times weave
me slipped through to be born
again listening too deeply to a dream
cutting through these bread slices of universe
bumping perspective
amoeboid grinding
roethke waking
stories captured by the cosmos
the surface tension of potential
glistens shifting shape on viewing

everything interacts

he is still here
they watch
she will be born
always is
and never was
a postulate
thinking makes it so
or so i like to believe

when the winds whisper at night
a friend's, a mother's
intimacy
ghosts of thought
caressing the eaves to speak
my memories
reinforce the beliefs of the Cathars
and my fathers
eyes
still pierce the fabric of time
that disappears with sleep
and merging of all that ever was
and ever shall be

© nfhill, all rights reserved

Rain Again, an observation and poem

I woke up this morning to more rain.  It usually doesn't bother me, but today it does.  It is a cold sad rain.  An unopened package from Ypsilanti was on the kitchen table.  A friend, now dust and perhaps  a memory at any given time  - his words were in there.  Parkinson's was killing him when I knew him.  His eyes, pale and piercing, could see through people.  For some reason, he liked what he saw in me.  Those Monday nights at the Unitarian Universalist Church were a treasure.  Rest in peace my friend. 
------------------------------------------------

rain again

Tucson was once lush
grassland
diorama of spears hefted
by little brown men
and a dying mammoth
told me so

this wet lack of sun
sends me back
the world of chill childhood 
lives in such damp days

today
is different

some of his last poems
are in that book
on the coffee table

words from when I knew him

"you, you can come back"
after hearing me read
and i did

all the way from
For Neruda, For Chile
to surfings

nfh, 13 dec 2011

Happy Birthday Grand Daughters!

Sharing something from my amazingly adept at poetic endeavors son-in-law to the Grandbabies on their first birthday, which always and forever happens to be today.

- on yr first birthday
by Aaron Balkan

One of you lives for red meat. One of you favors cheese of the goat.
I know who.

I remember the football hold. I remember the little
sour faces you made when the bottle was too cold.
Sorry about that. I remember three out of five of the S’s:
Swaddling, Shushing and Swinging. I remember how we used to
swing each of you, pendulum-like, toward each other, and how,
instead of slamming into your sis in mid air,
you both cackled: G with her chuckle gone berserk,
J, who certainly doesn’t require aviating the air via her father’s arms to go berserk,
going bezerk.

Let me tell you something about Michigan. Yes it’s where
so and so happened. The record shall reflect. But it’s also
where you first took to water. Josie, you were running wind sprints across the shallow;
Georgia, you liked to saddle up a floating sugar maple branch
and stare at it, pick it up, hold it to the light, chew. You both appreciated
the taste of pond water, the fetid-
er the better! I have a picture of that summer. There’s a thunderstorm going on outside
a picture window. Georgia you’re standing on a couch, your hands
pressed to the glass. You are smiling, but your mouth is wide open,
so it’s like you’re both smiling and trying to swallow the landscape. Josie,
you are sitting on the floor staring at Georgia. You, too, have your mouth agape.
It appears you want to swallow your sister.

Here’s what happened:
I went to see Dylan.
He played This Wheel’s on Fire
for his opening number. The next night
you were born.

 

Here they are trough diving. Bean is stealing Josie's fallen fruit from the bib trough. 

  Happy Birthday Darlings!  I love you.