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Sing Loud

- Rumi, Translated by Coleman Barks

Advice does not help lovers.
They are not the kind of mountain stream
that you can build a dam across.

An intellectual does not know what the drunk is feeling.
Do not try to figure what those lost inside love will do next.

Someone in charge would give up all his power,
if he caught one whiff of the wine musk
from the room where the lovers are doing who knows what.

One of them tries to dig a hole through a mountain.
One flees from academic honors.
One laughs at famous mustaches.

Life freezes if it does not get a taste of this almond cake.

The stars come up spinning every night,
bewildered in love.
They would grow tired with that revolving if they weren’t.
They would say, How long do we have to do this?

God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.
Each note is a need coming through one of us,
a passion, a longing pain.

Remember the lips where the breath originated,
and let your note be clear.

Do not try to end it.
Be your note.

I will show you how that is enough.
Go up on the roof at night in this city of the soul.

Let everyone climb on their roofs
and sing their notes. Sing loud.

Calls from my exes
something about a dream
a wedding (not mine)
a banquet
some dancing and a stranger.
Okay, I said,
but I just spotted someone I really want to see,
so …

This afternoon when suddenly
nothing is hungry and
the room is quiet,

there is nothing to do but be here.
There’s room to write,
a poem can breathe into this opening
unencumbered quiet.

A man said to me
that to sit at a cafe and have tea
and see maybe one or two people in the day
and maybe do it the opposite way the next day —
he said that that was wrong.
Something different should be happening,

but I can tell you right now
fingers to keys
air to skin
system at rest

that an afternoon when suddenlynothing is hungry and
the room is quiet

is where all life is born.

humansofnewyork:

"I think all the pressure that I put on myself has been paralyzing. When I graduated from high school, a lot of people wrote in my yearbook: ‘You’re going to do great things,’ or ‘I know you’re going to make it big.’ I realized recently that with all the time I spent trying to figure out what my ‘big thing’ was going to be, I passed over a lot of small things that could have really added up. The moment I became content with taking small steps, I started moving forward again."
(Mexico City, Mexico)

Awesome. I love this and relate! Yes!

humansofnewyork:

"I think all the pressure that I put on myself has been paralyzing. When I graduated from high school, a lot of people wrote in my yearbook: ‘You’re going to do great things,’ or ‘I know you’re going to make it big.’ I realized recently that with all the time I spent trying to figure out what my ‘big thing’ was going to be, I passed over a lot of small things that could have really added up. The moment I became content with taking small steps, I started moving forward again."

(Mexico City, Mexico)

Awesome. I love this and relate! Yes!

Artist seeks benefactor.

Artist seeks benefactor.

Porch during rain

Porch during rain

Out comes another mosquito bite reference:
little pale circles centered with red dots
where the buggers bit me last night,
and I wrote about it.
This afternoon I’ve poured in herbs
trying to shift some unnamed ailment
and now my belly’s a little achy &
I’m sedated with 1/2 a pink pill.
On my typewriter I said These are the times when I’m happiest
and then filled up the page.
Catching my reflection in a window today, smiling,
I saw the yumminess of this:
simply life, uncompromised.
Listening closely to only that which sings &
makes harmonies with me.
Waking up from a convincing dream,
only to settle into another.
Evening, still feels like summer,
gentle music with a beat
and a break.
I can’t possibly explain myself.
Please do not ask me to.

            9.14.14 Lakeway house ૐ

An out-going voice mail message —
we are never who we think we are.
My skin is brown and madly alive with
mosquito bites
and I’ll go ahead and contradict:
I know who I am.
Sometimes the picture is not fully formed,
but if something seems like a strain,
stop. You know I’m right.
Stealing a few moments in the outside air
before the nightfall and the rain come,
remnants of love or honey on my breast,
the shirt’s green manufactured yet still
rivaling the trees around me and
across the street and beyond.
The slate clouds are low and I am
every poet,
consumed by mozzies,
and seduced by green against gray
and the roll of distant thunder.      9.16.14

Coffee, cars and creativity.

Coffee, cars and creativity.

natgeofound:

A solitary fisherman’s home keeps watch on quiet Placentia Bay in Newfoundland, Canada, 1974.Photograph by Sam Abell, National Geographic Creative

This looks like something I see in my mind’s eye when I remember something I read as a child, and when I think of my Viking sweetheart.

natgeofound:

A solitary fisherman’s home keeps watch on quiet Placentia Bay in Newfoundland, Canada, 1974.Photograph by Sam Abell, National Geographic Creative

This looks like something I see in my mind’s eye when I remember something I read as a child, and when I think of my Viking sweetheart.

humansofnewyork:

He told me that he could look at anyone’s face, and tell them exactly what they need in life. I asked him to give me a try. He studied my face, looked up at the sky for a few seconds, then said: “You don’t need anything.”
(Jammu, India)

humansofnewyork:

He told me that he could look at anyone’s face, and tell them exactly what they need in life. I asked him to give me a try. He studied my face, looked up at the sky for a few seconds, then said: “You don’t need anything.”

(Jammu, India)