Life, Left Behind, Versions One and Two

Life, left Behind, V. I

She left the farm at fourteen - 
	doing her part to save her home.

She traded fields of corn and flowers 
	for the inside of a cotton mill.

Traded milking for spinning
	and a churn for a spool of thread.

She embraced that life, 
	for all her life,
Never knowing that in return for her sacrifice
	She’d be labeled a lint head, 
and find herself alone and broken 
	at the end. 

Life, Left Behind II: Family

She left home, 
	when she was just fourteen. 
Followed her sisters and her brother 
	to a new place - 

They went to save the farm.

	They sent money home - 
saved the farm, 
	and kept a roof over the heads 
of their parents and younger siblings.

But they never went back home
because life wants to be lived from the inside,
	and when you’re in a place, even a strange place,
it soon becomes your place
	and takes the place of home.

So home became a mill village,
	and life revolved around a cotton mill.
Fields of corn and flowers
	got traded for flower boxes on the porch. 

Strangers became friends,
	then lovers, then husbands and wives.
Kids came next, and suddenly, the farm 
	was where grandma and grandpa lived.

Visits and special occasions 
	brought them all back to the farm.
But it was no longer theirs - 
	not Home.

Little Ditties.

Here We Sit.

Here we sit, you and I.
	All these years later, and still the same.
Still in love, and still a little afraid.
	All these years later, and always just the same.
Farmer’s Doom...

Here am I, a gentle farmer,
	Armed with weapons meant to kill.
And my only Hope for Heaven
	Lies beyond these farming skills.
Here is the Day, then -
	and here, the Night.
We hold them both up to Heaven
	and blind ourselves to Sight.
Betrayal.

Here’s to betrayal -
	Ever constant,
more’s the pity.

Ever dependable,
	when the people are humans
and there’s hearts to be had!

Rewrite.

Rewrite.

Can I –

Rewrite me?

Rethink this equa­tion into some­thing else entire­ly?

Can I –

Be Free?

Free to think of oth­er me’s than me?

Anoth­er Me? Maybe anoth­er…

Real­i­ty?

I’d like that…

like to try one on for size,
then set it back.

Try anoth­er maybe. And an Oth­er!

Anoth­er Me!

Can I –

Retool me?

Rewrite the code so the self I see
is some­one else entire­ly?

I need to be –

Free!

Rest for the Weary.

Rest for the Weary.

Time keeps send­ing shiv­ers to me.
Mak­ing me Cold.

Bring­ing back mem­o­ries.

I’d like to feel some warmth,
but all I am is freez­ing these days.

I shiv­er -

Feel soaked-through like Win­ter clothes
brought inside, but left too far from the heater.

My fin­gers ache.

I have a mem­o­ry of morn­ing chores,
and water­ing troughs coat­ed with ice.

I broke the ice,
so dif­fer­ent, then than now,
with red hands,
and sharp intakes of Win­ter air.

Today, the Ice is dark, and the Cold is Bit­ter;
the ache comes from anoth­er place.

Time’s tid­ings, once glad,
now bring forth ill winds
that wrap them­selves in wrin­kles and weath­ered skin.

They remind me of all the days I should have either stayed inside
or put on skin cream.

Of the days when pal­lor was an indi­ca­tion of ill­ness,
instead of a way to avoid it.

These shiv­ers, and this cold, keep com­ing,
but they are in no way wel­come.

I would shun them if I could.

Turn my face away from such sad tid­ings,
and seek some lev­el of com­fort
beyond the march of days.

Time.

It used to fill me with promis­es.

Now it’s only ugly,
and too short.

Point of View…

Point of View.

I imag­ine there are points of view less painful.
More pos­i­tive.
More sure.

But this one’s mine!

And for all my great desire to turn around
and find some oth­er place to look,
I can­not…

Because this point of view,
this one that’s mine,
it gets stuck on the fact that it can imag­ine
more things than I can ever know.

That it can dream things that can­not be -
That it can need things
that I can nev­er have.

Change it?
I’d be glad to!

But then who would think these things?

Per­spec­tive.

Some­times I think there are pat­terns we can­not see!

Pat­terns too large for sim­ple expla­na­tions,
too large, even for dis­cov­ery,
except in that rarest of instances when we step out­side the inside track –

They are Pat­terns far flung…
sep­a­rat­ed by such stretch­es of time and view­point,
that they can only appear to us as sin­gu­lar events –
odd sight­ings and such…

Odd, per­haps, and out­side our view!

But pat­terns nonethe­less!
Part of the Great tapes­try that extends out past the sens­es –

Out past eye­sight,
Earshot –
and the brief achieve­ments made by man!

Rethinking 2008.

Matters managed.

Things were never good; only managed.
	We all tried - 
		but managed 
	just barely not to fail.

No point placing blame, I guess.
	Not today, 
		nor ever -

Time to live with what’s past,
	Try to Live past it
		and say good bye.

Because the time, and the place 
	for anger and resentment are gone,
along with most of the players.

The ones left
	can only wish things had been different,
		or that we were.

No. 

Common Ground, 
	or at least Comfort, 
was something we wanted - 
	tried our best to construct 
out of the wrongness of who we were.
We never made it - 

	Only managed to work it out the best way we could.

I escaped as fast as time, 
	and my barely opened eyes would let me!

I don’t think anyone completely failed,
	or maybe we all did.

I don’t think anyone wanted to be hateful,
	or even hate-filled.

In the end, all we wanted was something safer,
	Something simpler,
		Maybe just something a little more familiar -

	something we weren’t. 
		couldn’t find, and could never be!

I’d like to thiunk I’ve managed
	to put this all behind me,
but I think it more likely I just hid it somewhere
	that only I can see,

Blood.

Funny.
	I don’t feel so different - 

But my Blood does.

Things you cannot see
	can change your life,
		or death.

Things that Blood does.
	Flowing,
		feeling,
	Taking stock of the life that fills the minutes
between wakefulness and sleep.

Blood flows,

	Blood knows.



The Great Fire.

There is a dream,
	and a Heart redrawn by flames.

Fire,
	Kindled from a Great seed
		brought forth by the wind 
	and wave.

There is a dream - 
	forgotten, almost, by too many births,
		and too many broken hearts.

Flame,
	Burnt bright by the light of day,
		Consumed, it seemed -
	but Not!

There is a dream,
	purified by firestorm!

Form!
	Created from a mystery,
		and cured by hearts ablaze -
	set Free!

Brought forth!
	Beyond the grave.




We, the people.

We, the people.
	yeah, us...
the ones that talk funny,
	do the wrong thing at a fancy restaurant,
		and say the wrong thing when you wish we wouldn’t.

We, the People!
	That’s us, alright.
		A place, and a piece of writing,
	meant for us - 
Meant to understand us,
	describe us - 
		Define our right to exist 
outside the norm of what most folks 
	consider common practice, and common courtesy,
at least when you’re counting something 
	other than honest behavior 
as the baseline.

We, the people, alright!
	The ones that believed everything the Founding Fathers wrote!

The Very Ones that tried, 
	and try, every day to live that line, 
		and that series of steps they put down
to make this a NEW world, 
		and a new way of living.

We, the People!
	Some people call us fools, or foolish - 
maybe niave,
	or just too blinded by belief in what can be,
		to give in to what most likely is, 
and will be for some time yet to come.

We, the People!
	We may be fools, but we Believe.

Thanksgiving 2015 — Poetry and Mood Swings…

I shall not go -

Nei­ther will­ing­ly,
nor with some fool­ish smile upon my face.

I shall not hope
to meet some myth enshroud­ed mak­er,
nor shall I plan to join some
per­fect­ly-pitched celes­tial choir.

My loved ones
who have passed the veil before me,
will not be there to greet me in death.

I take no con­fort in such fool­ish­ness.

This world has been bru­tal enough.

Why would I expect
some new nir­vana to exist;

One that would some­how make up
for all the evil and the pain
we knew here in this place,
and in this con­scious­ness,
faulty as it is.

Faulty,
and filled with fool­ish­ness.

Bad Mil­lenia.

We humans are, sad­ly, the most recent result
of so many millenia’s worth of evo­lu­tion.
And yet we are such fools -
bent by a desire to find some thing
beyond our­selves
that we can either cling to,
blame every­thing on,
or believe in.

Hope­ful­ly,
the next mil­lion years
can bring forth some­thing bet­ter
before this world gets destroyed -

either by a bomb built on the inside,
or an aster­oid bar­rel­ing into it
from the out­side.

Don’t Know.

We just don’t know.
Can­not know, in such short time
as we have, with a mind
capa­ble of think­ing about such things.

We try to guess,
but we are worse for guess­ing.
and while imag­i­na­tion
prob­a­bly helped us into con­scious­ness,
it was a poor sub­sti­tute
for the drought we call real­i­ty.


Not By a Long Shot.

I shall not go.
Nei­ther will­ing­ly,
nor with hap­pi­ness,
giv­en a choice.

I shall not eas­i­ly give up this shell,
despite the evil and the pain
that has been heaped upon it
through­out this mean,
but short exis­tence.

I shall not turn this con­scious­ness
over to obliv­ion
with some false sense of secu­ri­ty,
or some hope for an altered,
and alto­geth­er dif­fer­ent form of real­i­ty.

Know­ing the truth
is that there is noth­ing hid­ing
behind any of the doors
dealt by death
is not an excuse for hope­less­ness,
or for deal­ing dam­age.

Rather, it makes what we have
even more pre­cious than we might
oth­er­wise have believed.

This is it.
This is life.
Not to be wast­ed,
nor treat­ed with dis­re­spect.

Ronald (Ron) Lee Baxley — In Memorium

Ronald (Ron) Lee Baxley — In Memorium

Born: August 28, 1959 — Died: Novem­ber 30, 2009

Nowa­days, with cell­phones, per­son­al com­put­ers, emails, Face­book, Twit­ter, and all the oth­er social media devices, it is rel­a­tive­ly easy to keep in touch with and/or recon­nect fam­i­ly and friends all over the world, and from all the pieces of our lives. Before all those things, and before most peo­ple got on board with all those things (my moth­er still isn’t), it was much more dif­fi­cult. We relied heav­i­ly on cards and let­ters (nei­ther of which were my forte), in per­son vis­its and phone calls.

We made a bold step and moved across the coun­try to Cal­i­for­nia in Jan­u­ary of 2000. Behind us, we left friend­ships span­ning twen­ty years or more. And although we all tried to stay con­nect­ed, it was some­times dif­fi­cult, espe­cial­ly for us, because we were start­ing a new busi­ness, clos­ing an old busi­ness down, and gen­er­al­ly fac­ing a large learn­ing curve in a new indus­try. Not an excuse. Just a fact.

I learned just yes­ter­day that a friend I’d known since I was 21 had died. Worse yet, he’d died in 2009. not two years after he and his boyfriend had vis­it­ed us in Palm Springs. I had wor­ried about him because he had moved and I had no for­ward­ing phone or infor­ma­tion. Still, you hope one day to get a card or a phone call. I got, quite by acci­dent, notice that he was no longer alive. I am dev­as­tat­ed and embar­rassed.

I have known Ron Bax­ley since 1979. I had moved to Atlanta to go to Sem­i­nary (some­thing I nev­er com­plet­ed), and had moved with a fra­ter­ni­ty broth­er, Cleo Creech. Cleo was going to the Art Insti­tute of Atlanta, met Ron, and they fell head over heels for each oth­er (as often hap­pens to us when we are young and fresh­ly out as gay men — oh hell, it hap­pens to every­body all the time no mat­ter how old they are — who am I kid­ding!. Any­way, Ron was soon our room­mate, and when Chris moved out to live with anoth­er boyfriend, Ron stayed.

We became close. Ron and I vis­it­ed his aunt Glo­ria many times. He adored her. I even joined him on a trip back to Sum­merville for the wed­ding of one of his sib­lings, despite the fact that Ron’s fam­i­ly had real­ly not accept­ed him at that point. They were good peo­ple, but talk about stress­ful! Then boyfriends, and more boyfriends, and lots of job changes for all of us and Ron also moved in with a boyfriend. John S. Foltz moved down from North Car­oli­na and moved in with me.

A few years lat­er, Ron was look­ing for a place to stay, and he once again became my room­mate, this time with John S. Foltz. We brought two cats, Har­ri­son and West­in, and Ron Brought Katy, the sweet­est cock­er spaniel you could ever meet. We lived togeth­er, then moved apart briefly (boyfriend again), then final­ly became room­mates again at 1769 Mon­roe Dr NE, Atlanta, GA. We lived there for awhile, and dur­ing that time, I met my future hus­band, Stephen Boyd. Well, again, we all had job changes, boyfriend changes, and we all moved into sep­a­rate direc­tions, but Ron always came by for Christ­mas, we called and kept in touch, and he also sent me a mother’s day card every year. He con­tin­ued doing that even after we moved to Cal­i­for­nia.

Ron vis­it­ed us one in Cal­i­for­nia. I had been bug­ging him to come out and see us, and final­ly he did. Mike came with him. Wa had a great time catch­ing up. Short­ly after that vis­it, though, Ron’s phone num­ber changed and his address changed, and I had trou­ble reach­ing him. Time gets away from us. In that inter­im, Ron moved to Flori­da — first to Orlan­do, then to Alta­monte Springs. It was there, I guess, that he died.

I lost one oth­er friend this way. Anoth­er in our group of Atlanta friends, Teri Renel­la. I hope nev­er to lose anoth­er one unknow­ing, and I intend to work on that. But in the mean­time, if you knew Ron Bax­ley, and you’d like to leave a mem­o­ry or a remem­brance of him, I have reac­ti­vat­ed the guest book from his obit­u­ary. You can see them both here.

Calcite Mine…in the Badlands

South­east of Palm Springs, die East of the Salton Sea, and west of Bor­rego Springs is an area known as the Bad­lands. It’s a fas­ci­nat­ing area with lots of Box Canyons, wash­es and indi­ca­tions that this was once an ancient sea (which it was). The for­ma­tions are quite amaz­ing although I don’t feel that many of them pho­to­graph as well as oth­er hik­ing areas. These pho­tos were tak­en near an old Cal­cite mine which was mined dur­ing World War II. Veins of Cal­cite run through­out the land­scape in this area. It’s real­ly quite inter­est­ing.

Words Won, In Three Iterations.…

Words Won, point One.

I work so hard
to mar­ry words -
and wor­ry them into some­thing more than worn out phras­es.

To bend them so they match the moment,
and the mea­sured cadence of my heart.

And then I hear this man -
dis­tin­guished -
famous!

And he spouts some sim­ple phras­es out
that call for noth­ing more than a brief look
at the Sun­day paper for inspi­ra­tion!

I must won­der, then, what I am doing Here?

Why pay this Penance -

Why try so hard to work mean words into song.
Into…transcendence.

To rise above medi­oc­rity, and beyond me.

Why should I, for want of some way to stop myself,
Seek to string phras­es that actu­al­ly reach for aether air,

Or phras­es built with words
meant to bear the Read­er out onto the Clouds.

Today, the World turns upon its sor­ry self,
and breeds poets with no more imag­i­na­tion
than a cou­ple of pieces of worn out gum wrap­per!

Why should I be dif­fer­ent?

If today’s Lau­re­ate is waste­ful,
and his words are hard to hear,

Then why should I exert myself to twists
and turns of phrase.

Bet­ter to just wish Him Well,
then turn my head,
and Bind my ears!

If only I could.…

Words Won, point Deux.

I work so hard
to mar­ry words -

Wor­ry them into some­thing more than worn out phras­es,

To bend them,
so they match the moment,
and the mea­sured cadence of my heart.

Small won­der, then, that when I hear this man -
dis­tin­guished -
famous.

spout out some sim­ple phras­es out
that call for noth­ing more than a quick look at the Sun­day paper -

I won­der…

What am I doing Here?

What Force com­mands me to pay this penance -
What com­pul­sion wants me to wind words
into strings that sing, or into phras­es meant to taste the aether air.

Why tran­scend the real world?

This rough and ragged world
that turns upon its sor­ry self,
and breeds poets with no more imag­i­na­tion
than an unopened dic­tio­nary.

If the Lau­re­ate is waste­ful,
and his words are hard to hear.

Shall I wish Him Well and praise him,

or turn my head,
and Bind my ears!

And, if I do,
then who Cares, but me?

Is the world less rich?
Is one mind less like­ly to excel.

Who knows!

Words Won, L’originale.

I work so hard
to mar­ry words -

Make them bend to match my moment,
and my heart.

And then I hear this man -

dis­tin­guished -

famous.

And he spouts some sim­ple phras­es out
that call for noth­ing more than a hasty look at the Sun­day paper for inspi­ra­tion!

What am I doing Here?

What penance makes me wish to turn mean words
into sen­tences that sing songs to rise beyond me -

Taste aether air, and raise me
into worlds made for imag­i­na­tion,
and for dream­ing deeply while the world turns upon its sor­ry self.

And if I try -

If I wor­ry words for some­thing more than worn out phras­es,

who Cares?

Who Cares!

If the Lau­re­ate is waste­ful,
and his words are hard to hear -

Shall we wish Him Well and praise him,

or turn our heads,
and Bind our ears!

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