"Focus" and "Territory"

A few poems written during Dedication Yoga


Focus

My intention is just,
well, what is yours?
Lifting from the dark
shadows of this walled
creation I've constructed
to preserve a sense
of chaos in this arena,
the internal voice of reason --
what is the reason
for all of this -- saying
I love the wrong way.  I don't
know why or how but
I do, consistently, end up
this way (crushed) -- decayed
from the inside out:
so shiny and brilliantly flawless
until the surface splits
wide and that gangrenous
spirit is revealed
as the hero within.




Territory

There's a circle to this
strategy, a before-and-after-
and-in-between.  I fall
in step in the sideshow
of it all, not up or down
but neutrally eye-level.
Hi.  I see you
clearly.  Do you see me
in this silent cacophony
of sight and sound, a disorder
of order so vibrant I want to call it
by a formal name, like Arnie
or Clementine, both real and bogus
enough to get your attention.
I want you to see the method
to this madness -- how richly preserved
I am in this place.  There is no need
for blessings anymore --
there is only a result.
This is that.  Unheard.