Ruth Carlin

          =You Played==You played
the violin
by ear…
no use
of tender fingers
curving round
the neck
to justify
vibrations
plucked from
mid-air.The sound
would startle
even you
like salt
in a wound…
the sudden
pain
or echoing
thereof
mystified,
made misty,
the atmospheric
mood.
Modes of expression
swapped places
like identical twins
pranking the senses
of reception
perception
and you rattled on
as they covered
their ears
their tears
because in the end
(of the beginning - thanks T.S.)
you were heard.

          In This LifeFollowing the sun's lead
leaning into shadows
learning the light
as it falls and grows
never the same
moment to moment
I can count on the inconsistency
yield to its field of foreverness
and not consult books
to prove out its pathit ushers me into illumination
a candle flame
wee illustration
of what must be
as long as I follow the flow
trust what I know
know what I know
and above all
dance in mind
traverse the sound waves
knowing there is no drowning
in the universal waves
quite the opposite
opposites here for human stability
but learn not to fight with opposites
rather weave them together
weft and warp
necessary for harmonious
whole

          SonnetMy house, my home, my heart is beating fast.
The chambers jostle as I hold my hand
in air and hope the wind will breathe at last
so I can slow the motion down and stand.And here I am about to disappear
before your very eyes. Don't think or blink!
As time is sight unseen, so clearly sheer;
you'd surely miss the moment but for ink.In retrospect I see my life aglow.
I share in words the ash that came to light.
No difference in the line above below
when colors blend and circle into white.A poem is a formal prayer healing
to cue the body: match this holy feeling.

           My DamageMy damage will save me
cradle me in its ragged arms
fit neatly into the jagged cuts
fill the open spaces
with an abundant flow of tearsI am rich with sorrow
it rocks me back and forth
soothes me as best it can
takes me by the hand
and says “follow”and so I have
followed the path
of evaporating tears
took the salt
licked it
found what nourishment
I could
and continue on
through the desert
unaware of the riches
pouring out behind me
leaving a trail
of what I would have
always wanted

            A Helping HandLife is apparently linear
but in fact
it’s round
and when I find myself
going around in circles
wondering how to navigate
the path ahead or how to leap
over that great chasm
glaring at meI have to change modes
change moods
remember everything is within
my spherical reach
I do not have to travel
to get where I’m going
I have to unravel
and see that I’m already
here

            Hollow Costfigures of sorrow
phrasing limb to limb
embedding heads
in armpits
fallen arches
sheer against
each other
ribs interlocking
interlacing
like fingers
tracing a memory
on skin parchment
no eyes
but sockets
waiting for the lightstaircases
layered with bones
turning everything
you may have thought
on its side
putting to use
repurposing
the tone
heard by
no one
no two
though a constant echo
pulls you awake
puts nightmare
into your day
brings you a “you”
which might otherwise
have eluded youso you plunk down
words
in an effort
to find a weight
to keep you here
get you herebut the earth’s gravity
is not yours

           Natural ConfettiNatural confetti,
blossom petals, pink,
but not cherry,
strewn on the street,
lining the gutters,
softening the wrench
of loss
sweetly offering an odor
of love
no longer attached to the tree
wilting, matting,
taking on shreds of candy wrappers
and tire tracks
pinkening the cracked asphalt
leading the way
to the exit
the brief life of beauty
giving an example of beauty
so we’ll know it
the next time
it catches our eye
for that one moment
of solidity
that makes sense
that seizes into alignment
heart
mind
soul
and then sneezes off
in a spring breeze

           We VibrateWe vibrate on different planes
and our words
boomerang
back
bouncing off
unseen surfaces
turning intended dialogue
to monologue
plus echos
hearing one’s voice
from within
and without
slightly delayed
and that time
frayed
afraid
prone
to
stream of consciousness
but at least
consciousness
or the act of notating
consciousness
you
never
know
what
thoughts
will
be
transmitted by
fingertips
until you let them
tip-toe on the lettered
keys
and the key to your fortune
is wrapped up
in a sentence
fragment
you must unfold
the curves
to reveal
the bare truth
nothing
of course
there is nothing
inside
because density
exists to create the illusion
of somethingness
till one can give over
to bliss
abundant
limitless to the extent
of no edge ever
glowing
flowing warmth
that needs no fear
fears no fear
wants no fear
grins widely from no ear to no ear

         I Have BecomeI have become a prayer
One who prays
or perhaps
a living, breathing prayerI am words casting light
on the unknown
defining the indefinable
with a meaning
that defies logic
but never defies
what is not recognizable
in human terms
Answers cannot be expected
They arrive seamlessly
when you’ve run out of thread
costumes fall away
fabric disintegrates
into shining molecules
of no shape …
Forms for the fun of it
playful light orbs
taking shape
to transmit lessons
of love
in the guise of —
disguised as —
your worst nightmare
A challenge of integrity
or the building of a soul
for eternity
which can only be
seen with edges as
human
human is all about
contending with —
(and with out) edges

   My Life is BeautifulMy life is beautiful
in picture frames
single images
perfected
in the stillness
of eternity
no movement
though
perhaps a suggestion of wind
seen in the slant of leaves
or angled-wave of hair,
and/or
a hand mid-gesture
implying
before and afterwhat happens next?
what’s outside the edges?mental hedgesthe disarray
of stories untold
words resting
unhinged
here and there
no composition
dry tumbleweed
waiting for
random
recollection
to yield an image

          Falling UpWhy not fall up?
Give gravity a run for it's money.
You can do it.
Stop buying into the confines of your body;
that's not really "you."
You are so much more.
Dare to deeply breathe in air
and let it nourish the unseen parts,
the places you would surely go
if you knew, trusted that,
they were the opposite of what you fear.
Destination no-destination.

          PeoniesI can’t believe new peonies
are proudly butting up their heads
again, so tightly wrapped in leaves
fresh maroon and feathered red.Amazing how they moistly shoot
through last year’s parched and empty stems
determined in their fresh salute
to lure out spring in me again.I like this moment most, before
the luscious petals bare themselves:
magenta, fuchsia, pinks and more
I just can’t bear to say farewell to.

          I AmI’m an irrepressible wildflower,
a beautiful weed -
pick me, pick me, pick me
I will grow again
form a new set of petals
live and die
die and live
till no field can hold me
and I blow away in the wind

                            IntentI live my life (its purpose only sight).If I can see my purpose shining bright,I turn into a cliffside lighthouse, white.I ask for darkness putting purpose right;I must be glowing, showing day in night.

          Stillness of MovementThe undulation that is life
fighting or filling the container
necessarily spilling out
and in
just allowing the container
to know
that its job
is to allow the multiplicity
of undulation
specks of energy
coalescing
dancing if allowed
in crazy patterns
imperceptible to the eye
the eye of the containee
of the container
Undulation
a single word for
a vast unending movement
an eternity of love
that moves so fast
it appears still
The extraordinary stillness
of movementthe snapshot of a movie
a movie takes time, is time
a snapshot is the whole shebang
timeless
but acknowledging the need for time
in human terms
time and space are human terms
do you agree to the terms?
that should be the first question
but so often it is overlooked
and so there is not conscious agreement
with the arrangementthat was my problem
I knew I didn’t agree with the terms
but did not feel confident
that I could start with that
explore that
and then figure out the rest
I tried to figure out the rest
because it seemed that was expected
but I didn’t feel settled in the premise
of a human container
but being in a human container
I did not know how to navigate
negotiate
and the humans around me
were not paying attention
they could not help me
or know to help me
but I have backed into the earthly
timely, spacious thing
in my own
undulation
catching onto the movement
till the steps make sense

           On One's OwnIn a moment of
perfection
I count syllablesI know that being human
doesn’t jive with
perfectiona body has edges to be spilled over
and messy isn’t perfection
messy is a reminder
of out of reach
of no spiritual attainmentbut spiritual containment
that is surprised and annoyed
with the inconvenience
of the fleshy bodythat is resigned
after a momentary railing against
it all
and then
a humble holding on
to the railing
hands not trusting ankles
to not buckle under
the disappointment
of still not getting
that people think
life is a giftthe spirit that occasionally
lights up the sky with fireworks
but disappears instantly
like pink cotton candy
on the tongue
did you dream it?
was it really so
perfectly sweet?
do you lack the proper patience?
or should you just retreat
and accept
that you know
that you don’t know
and let the others
figure it all outon their own