The Process Pre-mental 1993

                   The Process Pre-mental
Yesterday’s triumph was only activity,

Yesterday’s failure only black-tivity.

Pay no attention to either. They’re empty.

Ladder-like, bladder-like,

Empty, just empty.

Yang-ish and Yin-ish,

There’s never a finish,

One holding the other;

Contiguous brothers,

Like dust on a mirror,

Smoke from a fire.

You’ll pardon my Gita, but each one conspires

To fill out the day.

They’re really just clay,

And never do stay.

What is it I wanted to say?

Oh yes, playing –

And that is the point:

In sorrow or harrowed, encapsuled entire

In this wired spire

Is: each never stays,

But changes and alternates.

Always the nebulae forming from dusts

And the gases of nebulae crusts;

Total explosions that send out the seeds

Of equal potential to fill out the needs

Of new forming clusters

Grasped in their grandeur.

Its essence elusive, which rules out a seeking,

The peeking behind each intuitive find.

Speechless with awe,

Ecstasy permeates pencil and paw.

They grind to a halt,

This entire procedure salt for the day.

 

©The Process Pre-mental 93.2.4

Definitely Didactic; Nature In & Of Reality;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Start Out Rubato 1992

            Start Out RubatoI must give out everything I learn

Even if it’s code,

And, according to my lights,

Give it out in ode:

Everything that I observe,

The growing concentration,

The deepened observation,

The quickening of verve,

The strengthening of nerve,

The aging muscles’ detail

As part of the de-railing

Forces my ten horses serve.

This instinct to give out must surely

Imitate what’s God –

A small big bang in principle,

The origin of word,

Of A to Zed.

© Start Out Rubato 6.7.1992

The Processes:Creative,Thinking, Meditative; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Life Raga 1992

                 Life Raga
Looking for the inner tempo;

Starting out rubato or andante:

Out of tempo, searching slowly.

Right if you accelerate,

But peu à peu.

Another choice is stopping:

Simply stopping.

Take a pause and start again.

Involved. And nature’s tempo

Just comes out – and comes out fine:

Phrasing, voicing, harmony,

Beginnings, endings,

Diminuendos and crescendos.

Let the inner tempo grow

Organically.

 

©Life Raga 92.2.25

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

Where 2007

                 Where?

So many deaths this summer;

Where?

It’s just a wonderment,

This where.It could be what becomes?

But ‘where’ feels better.

Ingmar Bergman, Antonioni –

Giant names

Dying

On the very same

Day, vying with

My mother in-law,

And two others in the family.

Not including all the millions

In the floods and fires and drought.

They are not naught, but

It’s too much to think about –

It brings it home

When those you’ve known and read about

Go where? all in a month.

©Where? 07.7.31

Birth, Death & In Between;

Arlene Corwin

Revised View Of My Parents 1996 2007

              Revised View Of My Parents

A shorthand that I understand,

Essential for my peace of mind:

No more at war with mother’s dark, illogic mind,

No more preferring daddy’s kind

But weak, artistic presence, pleasantries.

Now, today, with daddy clearly

On his way, and mother nearly mad with sadness,

Locked in bed and impotent to run and help,

She eighty-four, he eighty-seven – at death’s door,

Three thousand miles away, derangement his finale.

Now that I know Arlene a bit,

The strengths and tendencies that show,

And some that don’t, I wish to forfeit

All the old complaints and sufferings,

Replacing them with grateful yea’s

For useful gifts and graceful traits,

(The freebees that I took for granted

Or assumed were shaped by ways

Of don’t know what.)

I know now never could have been

If mother had not been exactly

Who she was, and dad the same –

And that does not include my name.

View revised, not over-, undersized,

I’ve re-evaluated mom and dad.

It’s time now to apologize

For thoughts unkind: thoughts just plain bad,

Too analytical and double bound –

A blind unquestioning and double-binding paradox

That locks the brain into the box in which it runs around;

To reach the point where one no longer

Alternates between the passive and aggressive

To feel briefly stronger…

Gone to error’s happy land, left free of frenzied cleft.

Since the honeycomb of home is love,

And all roads lead to Rome,

It is love’s inauguration that has changed my view.

My children, will you need that too?

I do expect you will.

©Revised View Of My Parents 96.8.27.revised 07.4.6

Love Relationships; Mother Book; Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

PUshed Around By Fate 1998 2007

 

            Pushed Around By Fate

Wed at twenty.

Thirteen later months a bairnTo care and think and learn about,

And little brain

Prepared to form a life my own.

Unprepared, reaching out,

Guessing, tripping, dripping doubt;

Not grown, without a cicerone,

Stupid right down to the bone,

But glad to leave a family home

That felt unreal as foam.

Yet now all’s right and all is fixed –

The complex simply un-complex.

What seemed like chaos back then when,

Was inner order,

Bordering

On grace.

©

 

Pushed Around By Fate 98.8.23/07.2.7Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Woman; Pure Nakedness; Time;

Arlene Corwin

 

Pushed Around By Fate 1998 2007

                        Pushed Around By Fate

Wed at twenty.
Thirteen later months a bairn
To care and think and learn about,
And little brain
Prepared to form a life my own.
Unprepared, reaching out,
Guessing, tripping, dripping doubt;
Not grown, without a cicerone,
Stupid right down to the bone,
But glad to leave a family home
That felt unreal as foam.Pushed Around By Fate 98.8.23/07.2.7

Yet now all’s right and all is fixed –

The complex simply un-complex.

What seemed like chaos back then when,

Was inner order,

Bordering

On grace.

©
 
Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Woman; Pure Nakedness; Time;
Arlene Corwin
 
 

 

 

 
 
 
 

 

Circulating Blood 2007

      Circulating Blood

I do my yoga

Wakened to

The shifting angles,

Sometimes-suffocating pressures

Voluntarily approached;

Wakeful to the benefits

Of circulating, gravitating blood that gathers

Here and there,

Preventing this dis-ease,

Abetting that conditioned future

Like a suture

To an energy

That always wants to lessen.

Yoga lesson: circulation.

Blood elixir

Blood essential,

Precious liquor,

I, container.

© Circulating Blood 11.9.07

Circling Round Nature; Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Yoga;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Unavoidable Scarring & Healing 1996

 

     Unavoidable Scarring And Healing

Everything entering lives leaves its mark.

Label it karma or cause and effect;

Label it yin/yang, or lightness and dark.

The symptoms of struggle: a scarring and healing.

Every new project a little suspect,

Clad in a wanting and squeals of zeal;

Zigzagging, shuttling hazards of learning.

Who longs for scars?

To be marred by the stars of desire?

The trick is to stay unconcerned and discerning.

Perhaps to put end to the wish and ordeal

Placed by fate as we are,

To be scarred and then heal

In the taint of our times?

©

Unavoidable Scarring And Healing 96.9.20Our Times, Our Culture; definitely Didactic; I Is Always You is We;

Arlene Corwin

The Miracle of Turning Fifty 1996 2007

     The Miracle Of Turning Fifty

There’s a miracle in turning fifty –

Something psychological. Half your life is over,

You’ve got fifty years to go.

Maybe forty, maybe thirty;

Wisdom’s exponential.

And while youth goes backwards into time,

You’re reaching your potential.

It’s a fair exchange – no, more than fair.

Fifty’s on the way to There.

No more periods that bother,

No more load on you as mother,

When you had to drive the kids to school.

There are lighter loads, which you can handle

With more ease.

With not so many folk to please

You’ve more capacity,

And all the things that stamp us old

Turn into gold:

Days when life begins to hum –

The days to come!

Not right this minute or this hour;

Bit by bit the power waxes.

Isn’t that the large life-goal ?

Fifty starts it all.

It must be said:

You’re the one who makes this bed,

Gardens gladness,

Fences sadness out or in,

Keeps on looking

So that mind and intellect keep cooking.

You’re the one to feed these drives.

Then the life can turn on fives.

©The Miracle Of Turning Fifty 96.12.4 revised 07.3.15

A Mystic Visits Thousand Oaks; I Is Always You Is We; Special People Special Occasions;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

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