Flinging Fistfuls of Perfection

comments 25
Poetry

I had a moment,
very recently in fact,
to which you might
be able to relate,
when I was looking up
into the starry sky
and thinking:
why not…?
Because
it wouldn’t even be
a violation would it?
Statistically speaking, I mean.
There’s so many of you…
It’s like a goo goo cluster up there, right?
Couldn’t there be some kind of
unexpected gravitational perturbation?
Like a universal sloshing effect
where just one of you
casually scoots sideways?
Right when I was looking?
Some kind of cosmic sashay???
No one else ever has to know.
It could just be our little secret.
A little wink from you to me.
If you could just give me that,
then I could probably cut
back on a few of my other
ongoing (reasonable) requests.

The sparkly silence never budged.
Just continued to stare back at me
with that same wooden,
my body is a cosmic miracle and I know it look,
as if to say, “We’ll open the presents in the morning.”

Alright, I thought.
That’s how you’re gonna’ play it.
It’s tough love time, eh?

I turned around,
intending to kick a pebble
into the gutter with sizzling violence,
only to find myself
quite a little torqued
Hafiz had snuck up on me
during one of my intimate moments
with the universe.

I relaxed all the muscles of my face
into a look of
I don’t need nothin’
an’ I sure don’t need you
cuz’ I’m a cosmic stone wall Jackson
and I put that look right on him.

What.  (I said it inside for emphasis.)

He was chuckling
in a progressively wanton manner
I didn’t find especially amusing.

You know, he said,
slapping his thigh and
hooting like a drunken owl,
every time you do that—

Do what.

He was fighting for air now.

Every time you beg all the stars
in a particular sector of space
to show you a dance move, he said,
they shake your life back and forth
and bang you around with the most
beautiful circumstances they can imagine.

And you just spit on the ground
and walk away in disgust.

Uh huh.  Right.  So what’s so funny?

He thought for a moment.
I guess there’s something about
the unbridled passion of a baby
throwing fistfuls of green and yellow nourishment
all over the room that just gets me going, he said.

Plus, he said, at some point you are going to eat your meal.

25 Comments

    • Sounds good, Brad, either way, my friend! Eventually though, the applesauce sugar high wears off, and you’re faced with the remaining task before you… 🙂

      Michael

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  1. Oh stop it. Just stop it. Right now. I think you are spying on me. Or perhaps I’m spying on you. At the very least, we are all mucked up in the same brilliant goo goo cluster. Just yesterday, in an attempt to chronicle my own spiritual development caused (or at least catalyzed) by my youngest son Nicholas, of whom I’m sure you’ve read much, I wrote of a curious event (about 9 years ago) that occurred shortly before my pregnancy.
    Here are a couple of noteworthy excerpts
    “I was then greeted by a craggy old man in the sky, formed of clouds and illuminated by the moon. He had a long crooked nose and deep eye sockets and an outstretched arm with a bony pointing finger. His image blew through the darkness, until his features thinned and there was nothing left of him but thick smudges in the night….There was something up there, in those stars and moon and clouds, call it God or Divinity or Magic; some haunting, beautiful, severed connection. Somehow I had lost it, forgotten it, like a little distracted child who had straggled away from her enchantress mother, and I wanted it back.”
    I then go onto describe the PERTURBATIONS (not a super common word) of butterfly wings in the butterfly affect.
    So I wonder if we wrote these things at similar times. And then there is the horned soul creature. And Anniston. And perhaps New England? That last one is a bit of a guess.
    I wonder if Hafiz disguises himself as an old man in the sky….

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    • Yes, A, we are all mucked up in the same brilliant goo goo cluster. We’re cut from the same cloth. We all share a common root of being. And it is so delicious when we catch glimpses of this, is it not? I suspect at some level we will move (all of us) deeper into this kind of experience, where we recognize this delightful unity within or through our distinctions. It becomes a pure joy to share when this condition obtains.

      Yes, New England. I live in Maine. We still have crusty, unyielding snow banks on the ground. But there are also signs of new life gathering. We’re getting a serious case of spring fever up here. Perhaps we did write at the same time? I think there is a timeless aspect to it also. A relativistic time bending between the two poles of the Appalachians.

      To complete the spookiness, I have a poem somewhere I wrote where I described Hafiz was a name etched upon the sky. Some sort of comparison to that and the bat signal from the Batman movies… 🙂

      Blessings to you and Nicholas and the whole beautiful family,
      Michael

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      • Have you heard of Peaks Kenny State Park? Dead center of the state I think. We camped there annually, on Sebec Lake. That was actually the fateful location of my husband’s first boat rental (an old pontoon), which led to a love of boats, which led to a return to Florida. What a funny, funny thing. I’m sure now, that you and I have looked up at nearly the exact starry night sky, around August time. The trees were very intriguing in this place. Their roots grew over rocks. I have some really amazing pictures, especially of the kids having double the fun. Rocks AND trees to climb. It was a magical time, with lots of marshmallows and hiking and swimsuits and Grateful Dead music. 🙂

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        • Andrea, I have not heard of Peaks Kenny SP. That is getting up there for sure. We used to camp every summer near Rangeley, and often in early August. So, yes, we have seen those same skies… Haven’t been in a few years now. It’s amazing how you do a thing one time, and it reminds you of something you once set down, and so you pick it back up with renewed love. Bike riding was like that for me a couple years ago. I hadn’t ridden in years, and then I had this summer where it was all I could do. I couldn’t get enough of just riding a bike around after work, under the sky… And how the dots connect, and the changes of life happen…

          Maine is a fantastic place for kids! And for magical times… Water, woods, trees, ice cream. Bob’s Clam Hut? All great stuff… I’m thinking Florida has you covered, too, though. Oceans and lakes, sand dunes and swamps… Some really good creeks to try and plug with sticks… 🙂

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  2. Incredible insight, Michael 🙂 Hafiz is such a gentle teacher. In one of my poems this week I stated that I don’t like being laughed at when I am not funny. I think your words may give me cause to examine this further and come to the realization that though I may not think I am funny, there may just be times that I am downright silly!! ❤
    Thank you! There is nothing better than receiving a gift that makes you understand something about yourself!! 🙂 Have a beautiful Friday.

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    • Ha! Yes, you’ve heard right to the marrow of this one, Lorrie! Everytime I come down from my own anger, disappointment, or frustration, it’s usually to the feeling of Hafiz standing there, looking at the watch he doesn’t wear, asking, “You ’bout done with all that yet? Feel better for it? Quite a show you put on there. Truly. Oscar material. Can we go get some chow now…?” 🙂

      Love
      Michael

      Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Karin. The breakthrough comes for me when I can see the humor in my own desperate bargaining, to Lorrie’s point above… That lovely moment when the goals melt away, and you’re left with what remains and will always be…

      Michael

      Liked by 1 person

    • 🙂 Love it, Hariod! Was fun looking up and reading about Nanker & Phelge. They’ve said it far more lyrically than I.

      Much Love
      Hafiz / Betelgeuse

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    • He comes and goes where he pleases, Meg, finding it easiest to drift from heart to heart, tracing the timeless path of his friends…

      Love
      Michael

      Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, David. 🙂 Kind of like a meteor skidding across the atmosphere on its backside. It’s done for fun. Put on a spectacular show during a gorgeous plummet into non-existence. Then catch the ski lift back up to the summit…

      Michael

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    • Ha! Yes, that’s it! I love it. Thanks for visiting, Sarah. I’m glad to see the Phoenix Rising gravatar flying around again! (Hope I got that right!)

      Michael

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  3. Sorry I’m a bit late and kind of scooting through all the posts I missed, but just had to remark on Hafiz hooting like a drunken owl – nearly fell off my chair…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ha! No apologies necessary, Tiramit! Glad to see you back. I have missed your postcards very much… Hope all is well.

      Peace
      Michael

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