Inbetween land

The links are changing
Almost without measure
I don't know where they've gone
This month alone
Hospitalization and death
Engagement and birth
A century continuum
Cut down the center
And I am fifty
In that inbetween land
The links are changing
And it's all about connection
But how do you connect
In a world half crazy, half sane
Is it your doctrine, your belief?
And what is that, really, at its core
Enough about me
Where are you
Where are you going
Inbetween land
We're mostly water
Swimming, hoping
Someone will catch our hand.

Denis Streeter 3/30/12

Wooden bridge

The desk opened tales never been told
Etched into oldness
The secret of the termite who lost its skin
The sapsuckers dream of words forgotten
The mystery in inkwells and pigtails
Etched in oddness
And the wood laughed beginning to splinter
Broken words breathe then drown
Cross wooden bridge
Some ark of leftovers
Some forgotten ancestor
Waiting for the future
To retrieve its past
Between breath and creation
The past comes alive
Dreams retrieved
Etched in oddness
Oh but the pain
Against the grain
Of the forgotten
That sunken ship of dreams
Don't pass us by
Open your trunk
Transform us
Desk us
Don't let it all be
Forgotten
Catch our splinters
Words of pain
Of misunderstanding
We always meant
Has developed
A life of its own.

Denis Streeter 3/25/12

Itsnt

The keys to the meadows drew blanks
More for the parking lots to explore
Meandering valleys of dog scratching heads
And post office explosions set pavements atremor
Hoses wrap wings attempting to fly
Nothing but starlings starting to cry
And the deepening meadow of fishes fossils forgot
When time startled all boundaries
Leaning where ever it could
Just before the naps of contrition
Dust settling to dirt
Laughing posts of night
Daytime conclusions
Dreaming of what itsnt so.

Denis Streeter 3/23/12

"My name is Mina"

"and I love the night. Anything
seems possible at night when the rest of the world
has gone to sleep."

That's the voice of Mina in the first two sentences of David Almond's (2010) prequel to his 1998 classic "Skellig". I absolutely loved this book! It's not for everyone. Like "Skellig" the word pieces sometimes seem disjointed, but be patient. In some ways this seems like a visionary primer on how to teach poets and artists. He creates an incredibly deep resonating tapestry that connects spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually. "My name is Mina" is a beautifully constructed work of art. It's also probably too challenging for most readers...who may find themselves scratching their heads at the structure and some of his ideas on reincarnation and religion. The man is a genius and will probably never be read except by weirdos like me, book critics, and perhaps a few others. Coming soon to a remainder table near you. I seriously hope I'm wrong.

A quote from David Almond's book "My Name is Mina":

As we ate, Mum talked about birds and souls. She
said that some people believe the soul never dies, but
it moves from one body to another, even to the
bodies of animals. This is called the transmigration
of souls. It's a kind of rebirth, or reincarnation. She
talked about Plato and Hinduism and Buddhism.
She said that some people believe that if you have
not lived well you will be reborn as an insect, or
even as a vegetable.
"Or as a fruit?" I said, holding up my
banana.
"Yes, some people believe you could be reborn
as a banana. Or as a pea, or a Brussels
sprout."
I bit the banana.
"I wouldn't like to be a sprout. But a
banana! Imagine being such a color and having such
a taste!"
I bit the banana again. If there was a soul
inside it, would you taste it? Or was the soul's
taste the essence of banana-ness?
"Maybe good souls turn out bright and
tasty," I said. "And bad souls turn out being green
and yuck!"
"Maybe. Then raspberries, for instance, must
be very good souls. And if you became an insect,
what would a good soul be?"
"A dragonfly," I said. "Imagine being able
to do what a dragonfly does and look like a
dragonfly looks."
"Or a good soul could turn out to be a bee."
"To be a bee," I said. "To be a bee."
"And a bad soul?"
"A cockroach."
"A bluebottle."
I pondered.
"I'd quite like to be a bird," I said.
"I can imagine you as a bird." (pages 79-80)

Isn't his writing and ideas amazing! No one writes like this for children or adults!
All ages.

Okay

I want to be authentic, but
Sometimes I just lie
When I'm hearing
"Hi how ya doing today."
"Okay"
No, I'm not, but what can I say
He's a customer
And I'm too tired to come up with any other response
It makes me feel bad
Even these lies of necessity
Because I'm always hoping I can say something truthful
Be helpful, be authentic
But I'm too tired so I say
"Okay"

Denis Streeter 3/16/12

"I'm a mustache"

That's probably my favorite line in this picture book I just finished reading called "Hubert: The Caterpillar who Thought he was a Mustache"(1967) by Wendy Stang and Susan Richards with illustrations by Robert L. Anderson. A co-worker found this "Denis" book for me on the free table. I had so much fun reading the whole thing aloud to the staff. It brightened my day...and theirs. It's silly and magical and appeals to my sense of life's absurdities. It only takes about five minutes to read aloud. Okay...let me give you a sense of it...

"Hubert was a very mixed-up caterpillar. [illustration]
He thought he was a mustache.
Of course, it's plain to see why.
'I'm a mustache.' [illus.]
When Hubert was at a party,
he was always left alone.
Because when he was introduced as
Hubert The Caterpillar,
he would reply proudly,
'I'm not a caterpillar.
I'm a mustache.'" [2 ill.]

It's very funny as it goes along...and the multiple meanings give it depth.
Find it, because I'm not reading the rest of the story to you.
If you aren't laughing or at least smiling by the time you've finished this oddly poignant story, you're not alive.

Denis Streeter 3/10/12

Friendship

Services you don't know
Walk in tubes
Waiting for the unknown
The fractured envelope
The empty tray
Waiting for the casket
To open some design
A side pocket
A bent arrow
Waiting for close
To open
Self-contained
That bitter root
That contradiction
Seen face to face
Grab it, hold it
Breathe
See the sunlight flow in.

Denis Streeter 3/7/12

Friday night poem

Moon gazing down
Shaping roses in stardust
Sky glittering pollination
Mice skittering I awake half dreaming
Moon cracklings underfoot
Mind opening, speech asleep
My universe expanding
Its frame.

Denis Streeter 3/2/12