Dust On A Mirror

Dust On A Mirror

 

Bad art, good art:

Rembrandt, Schubert painted, wrote

Works even mother wouldn’t like…

(and you know mother loves it all)

They had to, driven from within.

We all do – driven from within.

Good, bad, mediocre,

Spurred on one time or another

It’s all dust upon a mirror.*

 

*The Gita says that mistakes belong to humans as dust on a mirror.

 

Dust On A Mirror 3.18.2010/revised 4.13.2015

Definitely Didactic; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin

Everyone’s Titties

Everyone’s Titties

 

Everyone’s titties are mammary glands,

The glamour of mammary glands

Being temporal –

Nothing to get excited about.

Mommies and mammories –

That’s their significance.

Men who desire

The chest bone attire,

Who somehow or other

Are drawn to an udder

Whose breast-iny

After an age is to flop

Or to drop –

Well, let’s say perception at best,

Is projection,

And leave it at that.

 

Everyone’s Titties 6.16.2010

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin

People Smoke A Joint Because 2010

People Smoke A Joint Because

People smoke a joint because

It calms them down,

It makes them laugh.

The symmetry of mediocrity’s

 Conventions flee.

It also makes them hungry.

Answers come, and often laughter

Is the payoff.

Groups ingested LSD

To see more beauty,

Dig into the new,

Change patterns that were old in mind,

Find truths that were not there to find,

Break down, build up

And sip the cup

Of everything there is to sip.

People drink because they are

More able to shift gears,

Take risks,

Lose fears.

The problem is to lay off.

Get it? Payoff/layoff?

I liked that.

People Smoke A Joint Because 5.25.2010

Circling Round Energy; Revelations Big & Small;

Arlene Corwin

Started 2008

You Give Me More 2010

You Give Me More

 

You give me more than I give you

(Not that you need any thing)

Running water, heat this winter…

These the crumbs,

A quarter of the sum, so mum’s the word.

More yet.

The gift to know what lacks in me;

Paucity of qualities.  What luck

To know what lacks.

More I get:

Sunbeams, dreams,

The gains of passive effort.

You give me so much more

Than I give back.

 

You Give Me More 12.20.2010

Circling Round Reality; God Book;

Arlene Corwin

 

Two Husbands & A Manager 12.11.2010

Two Husbands & A Manager

Three deaths this year:

The probability when getting old.

I thought that eighty was statistically

The modern seventy.

Karmic preparation detaching me

From those held dear;

Does Time do me a favor,

Taking savories away

To dull the taste buds of existence?

Preparation? Possibly.

Different roads that lead to Rome.

Correction: I meant Home.

 

© Two Husbands & A Manager 12.11.2010

Birth, Death & In Between; Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Here’s another Christmas poem from Sweden. That day was so magical I just had to record it. The mentioned “Kent” is my dear heroic husband who’s bee out with the tractor shoveling snow, widening the road, chopping more wood, feeding the fire, keeping it going… in this record cold 2010 winter.

Here’s another Christmas poem from Sweden.  That day was so magical I just had to record it. The mentioned “Kent” is my dear heroic husband who’s bee out with the tractor shoveling snow, widening the road, chopping more wood, feeding the fire, keeping it going… in this record cold 2010 winter.

          Christmas Day On And Around The Lake  

  Stora Härsjön.

For future generations

Of the English-speaking world, pronounce it

‘Hairshern’. One of God’s creations

Which they named Big Lake.

They’re skating up and down, zigzag, across.

From far three specks come into focus:

Man with dogs, parading toward a thin-iced dam.

Fear subsides – he’s local clan.

His kind knows every deep edged plane.

Kent is sweeping snow that dusts

The ice – in preparation for a skate.

I wait,

          Brooklyn girl at window, while Viking

Feigns a shoe-drawn figure eight,

The outdoor rink scant meters from the house.

Enchanting bay-cum-pond embosomed in a wood.

We have a life uniquely good:

Biscuits in the oven; sitting, watching

While they brown, snatching, catching

Surfaces that rest on life this day,

A perfect way to view it.

The atmosphere is peerless

And I want it down for always.

Neighbor Hammer’s built a fire on the ice

Where Kent and Hammer’s sons

Build branch by branch, a flame, the highs

So bright, so red it could be called flamboyant (get it?)

As a day-short sky grows dusky and I watch,

A scone already spread with butter sampled

In my mouth.

©Christmas Day On And Around The Lake 96.1.31

Circling Round Nature; Swedish Book;

Arlene Corwin

Calendar 2010

     The night before last, as I lay in bed writing small notes in my almanac/diary/daybook  and noting that the little book was coming to an end, I was moved to write something/anything to commemorate the fact.  You see, I’m always interested in the passing of time, the repetition of patterns  – the in between of birth and death.

      Calendar
Coming to an end
Between two covers;
Buy again/begin again.
Small, leather registers;
Diaries, memoir’s squeezer-in;
The daily note, the planned appointment,
Observation. Holidays in tiny print.
Lives arranged in line and font –
And empty!
Possibility’s potential.
Optimism’s hope between two covers.
This year
Will be better.
© Calender 12.19.2010
Circling Round Time II; Birth,Death&InBetween;
Arlene Corwin

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