Rabbit Ears


Sometimes we have a hard time tuning in our lives, as though we are passing through a magnetic anomaly or concentrating our physical self in an area that could be a place considered  opposite of where a lei line would be, permeating bad ju-ju. So during these times we’re a bit like those old TV’s we had with the rabbit ears; the ones we had to keep messing with in order to get even a partial picture on the set. But mostly the channels that came in were simply static–that crackly white noise, which blurred in front of our faces with maybe some echo of a scene behind the black and white lines squiggling on the box in front of us.

Try as we might to move the antennae around (or physically pick them up in desperation), and add  aluminum foil to the end to extend their reach, we’d barely see much, only once in a while–if we were lucky and the weather patterns cooperated. Then lo and behold, an image would form and we could watch the world play out in front of our eyes. We’d sit frozen, captured and greedy because finally everything was in focus–if only for a moment we were mesmerized.

I pass through these moments of clarity where my world feels in focus. Where I feel I have tuned my antennae correctly for once and that I am standing in a place of great rightness. I, too, stop and stare, because it is unusual and crisp and clear. It feels odd at these times, like not quite my self, but more ethereal ready to disappear back into the scrambled and distorted reality I’ve become used to passing through. It is a stunning feeling and gives me pause. At these times I feel outside reality.

So when these times of sharpness come; when the world appears more brilliant and the fuzzy noises that threaten those flickering frames where we see things distinctly are suddenly quiet, it gives hope for one day having a steady stream of these moments. Is it finding the lei line and absorbing its energy? And once there, adjusting the rabbit ears permanently in the position of the clearest existence.

 

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Poem: Closing In


Walking towards a fading rainbow

wondering why heron sits thinking

at the edge of a lake

Grumbling crows don’t make any sense

nor does the dollar for Autumn leaves

Wrong photos sent

but right words said instead

no answer back

Neighbors car looks somehow wrong

but it’s the same

Only comfort comes

from three men

too close in a dream

While awake

the cat keeps stalking

every move

Eyes blurred and bleary

looking for real

It’s all wrapped up

in stuff that’s fake

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Poem: Time Traveler


I’m driving as though I don’t know the road

Having deja vu seizure auras

Drifting in my head

Taking me to places, either memories or yet to come

Walking in a parallel universe next to myself

The me that wasn’t

Or is right now

Doing the thing that I should have done

If I took that other path

Maybe that’s why some things feel so familiar

Because I’m living them now

Somewhere else

Or is it just deep in the recesses of my mind?

The hemispheres of my brain clash together

And create an electric shock

Leaving me stunned and wide-eyed

Like an animal caught in head lights

They too running on their primordial path

When trapped by unknown Gods crashing in their wake

In which reality do I live?

Some moments blend like clouds that descend to earth and fog our vision

The past seeps into crevices and feels on the verge of today

And the present sets on the horizon like falling day turning black as night

I’m left a time traveler rattling around my own head