The Crabman’s Creel

Thanks to the seemingly inexplicable phenomenon of crustacean mob mentality, for generations crab fishermen have left their catch baskets uncovered, for steadfast captivity is gruesomely guaranteed by fellow inmates’ kapoesque brutality.

Bright with life
percipient pale blue eyes
set
deeply
past virile
chocolate-tanned chiseled brows
caressed harshly
by the waning years’
abrasion of
wind
& setting suns,
witnesses
daily
to brutal,
kapoesque control
of unyielding courage,
perseverance
in the face
of pessimism and envy

The singular
set of bounding blue-tipped
king crab claws
flexing brawn
pull doggedly
upward
from the smothering
abyss
of the crabman’s creel

Above,
beyond
the oppressive
stagnant depths
of pooling,
squirming
black and olive-green
pressure
of dead weight
steadily, by inches
pushing on,
ascending
toward the bluish hue
of daylight’s promise

Teetering
upon the hand-woven wicker precipice
of the unknown
universe:
freedom …
to breathe, uninhibitedly
to live, noisily
to create, frenetically
to thrive, boundlessly
to love, with abandon
within sweet
& savory
seductive sight

Then,
as if by cruel design,
in one of life’s
more mercilessly
culled
capricious moments,
insisting imperiously
upon untimely instruction
of its omnipotent
and fleeting ways,
the crisp, resounding
crack!
of one fellow-contorted-captive’s-stabbing-clamp-like-pinch
jerks
& tugs
forcibly
at the might
& strength
of indomitable determination

Pressing mercilessly
against progress
fearlessness
spills
eyes tumble
downward
into the writhing
sea of pitch
green
envy,
imploding hope

Splash!
into the mob’s
hateful trap:
minds impregnable
to liberating philosophies
severed
from the world
of bluelimitless possibility

Like parachutes
in full plume
the boundless
optimistic mind
swells
with oxygen
and soaring
stoutheartedness
deprived of which
it implodes,
morphing
into a choking cloud
of sulphuric
yellow
suffocation

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eugenfrédéricdaniel

It’s the essence
of passion:
the drive within
creative expression
that seduces me

into quivering
states of leaking flaccid ineptitude

within this mental posture
of artist’s mind

neither age,
nor logic,
nor formlessness

holds paralytic
the import
of so cherished
the left-brain world’s:
linear time,
blood-letting competition,
herculean feats of self-imposed deadlines,
and
stuff-gathering

where beating down
a greedily awaiting
death’s door
does not do

and our lives are ours
to live
with no rule,
but
to love one another’s creation

Spring

Rousing from sleep

I know not
what
ever
may come

This day
yet known
to none

Pushing me back
Like a child on a swing
Into free falling
A world of anxious dreams

Awakening

I understand
Within

Acceptance

of all
that simply is

Lies low the license

To live
Spontaneously

With abandon:
Freedom from
Stunted
Spurious and cowering
Segregated Self

I am lured
Outward from my ursidae den
By optimistic
Curiosity
Into the dawning season

With greater expectation
From living out loud

Like the unmistakable
Soothing rumble
Of a distant spring thunder

Summer’s Cruel Retreat

“I wander lonely
as a cloud”
through dark and starless
a September’s night
the cool of aging summer’s
breeze
caressing my naked arms

I should have brought my sweater.

Marching on
toward the light
Kenmore Square
in my sight
arms’ counterpointing
rhythmic swing
to unintended
goose-like steps
a playful cadence
marks the beat

I knew! before opening that fucking email that I couldn’t do anything to resolve this problem before morning. Now I’m angry, distracted, it’s fucking late, and I probably won’t be able to sleep.

Foreboding chill
of an imminent
autumnal arrival
on its heels:
February slush

A sign reads: Whom will you make peace with today? Not winter I assured myself cantankerously.

A shadowy creature
lurches past
my delightfully wafting
leather-clad left foot

A fucking rat? No, not that!

But a brave and lonely
frightened urban hare
staring me down
panicked eyes meeting mine
wildly pulsating
wiry-haired chest
visibly fibrillating
frantically
plotting his options
for impossible escape

What a strange, incongruous site, to cross paths with this timid cotton-tailed creature plodding along dark and bustling a Boston street; ecological efforts working too well.

I hop along
in light-hearted solitude
much like my skittish
leparidae friend
my hind legs propelling
my poetic evening stroll
up and away
taking flight
soaring high and far
beyond
summer’s cruel retreat

Never

Uttering: never
seems a naive way
to self-soothe
from the anxieties of
life’s complex possibilities,
an arrogant posture
attempting control
of the uncontrollable

The only time
it may ever make sense
to consider verbal investiture
in the absoluteness
of this simple
retrospective stance
is upon realizing
that
never,
bears fruit
not ever

Daily Chores

I prepare
for the day’s infinite possibilities
while a subtle
sense of dread
throbs throughout my body

By setting down
the familiar
true encumbrances:
fear-based misgivings
buzzing like wasps’ wings
building a nest in my mind

With each and every out-breath
I unload
my neck & shoulders
pierced with the pinching pain
of my saddle bag’s
sharp leather strap
weighted
with rarely-used
just-in-case
sundry items
purporting to ease
my existential angst

I am released to the day
new
with hopeful innocence:
placing them down
is daily a challenge
but a chore
to which to tend
with delight

Untethered Passion

Wanting is the problem 
it so easily turns into
a no-holds-barred chase
to possess an itch
that cannot be scratched

Untethered passion
born of a sense of imperfection
a false belief that
to enslave
the objects of our desire
will set us free

To clench thus
with jaw & fist
is to annihilate
the spirit of love
that lives within

Glimpsing for an instant
in the eyes
a reflection
a sudden rush of the familiar
a sensation of home
self’s true nature
recognized in another

Thoughts of possession
a fleeting illusion
for love will not have this

Superlative Singleminded Thick Straight Lines

Pressure to proceed
Along superlative
Singleminded thick Straight lines
Takes a detour
Onto meandering, blossoming
Summer lavender trails
Giving chase to joyous ends
Of heart & mind
Only each
Alone
Knowing
Its beguiling forlorn quest:
To think, to write, to speak
To act
Without restraint

Realization of dreams
Close to the heart
Dear to the mind
Before the world
Accomplishments stacked
Like so many books
Walls overcrowded with trophies & diplomas & moose heads
Become dictators to
Fragile false selves hooked
More by the fawning crowd
Than by forays into acts of
Liberating self-kindness

Fleeing the inconspicuous
Ubiquitous slave master’s
Imposed preposterous perfection
Into the night
With untrue & tired old friends
Rebelling by escape
We vampires
Our hungry tongues
Compulsively lapping
At life’s myriad elixirs
Promising eternal peace
Power & ecstasy

Simple
Participating presence in time’s gift:
A life lived…
Well enough
To realize all it fancies
To which most do not dare
To dream of giving flight
Lest they fall paralyzed
Into Fear’s gaping guise of
Contentedness

The most interesting
Slave to perfection
The world has ever known
The master’s perfect dream
Gone
Awry

Manca di Ripresa

Sluggish and tethered to my lettino sull’adriatico
dopo il mese in gruppo leccese
victuals & chemicals spinning
in vortical flow throughout my exhausted poisoned body

Sucking at my brain precious with thoughts
of self-directed ageism,
of paralysis
by an unwanted pregnancy of
self-mutilating friends with
stingy tongues cutting like rose’s thorns their words of prejudice & denial about life’s possibilities

Cowering like court jesters
before the cruelest king
that mere consideration of
entertaining
a philosophy
that pretends Life’s purpose
to be
just
to live

Inundated
within a vortex of
uncentered thoughts
evoking expectation,
desire & disappointment
projecting fears for future plans

An artist’s hand
sets the cherrywood tear drop
free
falling
into the perfectly centered
nipple of ghiaccioed cola blood
of the inversed chalice’s
umbilicus

And I am healing
from a world wrought
with inherent contradictions
in which lies
my salvation

Expect Strong Spontaneous Release

Inhaling the force of the on-rushing tidal crests gulping ferociously of their
life-giving molecules hydrogen oxygen
two parts to one
Releasing
the sea’s expanding chest
with
each
crashing
wave
of exhalation
Freedom
Found
in Familiar Functions
the mouth of Krishna
holds an entire universe
on this Royal planet Blue
In compulsive curbless escape
we are lost
unlike the tide’s retreat
knowing her Rhythm
tried & true
she
promises
to return to us
Seas Swelling terrestrial rising of torso the continents its ribs to protect fragile Liquid Lungs with each inhalation we’ve come to Expect Strong
Spontaneous Release
of the sweet &
mighty orb’s
gravitational
tensions
surrendering
more CO2
than oxygen
Are we not unlike our lovely
free-Spinning Mother-home
in Space
Waiting
half in the dark
to repeat her cycle
Living & Breathing
through yet another
gaseous
exchange?