Gregory Orr

I know now the beloved by Gregory Orr I know now the beloved Has no fixed abode, That each body She inhabits Is only a temporary Home.              That she Casts off forms As eagerly As lovers shed clothes. I accept that he's Just passing through That flower Or that stone. And yet, it makes Me dizzy— The way he hides In the flow of it, The way she shifts In fluid motions, Becoming other things. I want to stop him— If only briefly. I want to lure her To the surface And catch her In this net of words.

It's All Temporary

Dear Tiera by Sean Thomas Dougherty

Dear Tiara
by Sean Thomas Dougherty
I dreamed I was a mannequin in the pawnshop window of your conjectures. I dreamed I was a chant in the mouth of a monk, saffron-robed syllables in the religion of You. I dreamed I was a lament to hear the deep sorrow places of your lungs. I dreamed I was your bad instincts. I dreamed I was a hummingbird sipping from the tulip of your ear. I dreamed I was your ex-boyfriend stored in the basement with your old baggage. I dreamed I was a jukebox where every song sang your name. I dreamed I was in an elevator, rising in the air shaft of your misgivings. I dreamed I was a library fine, I've checked you out too long so many times. I dreamed you were a lake and I was a little fish leaping through the thin reeds of your throaty humming. I must've dreamed I was a nail, because I woke beside you still hammered. I dreamed I was a tooth to fill the absences of your old age. I dreamed I was a Christmas cactus, blooming in the desert of my stupidity. I dreamed I was a saint's hair-shirt, sewn with the thread of your saliva. I dreamed I was an All Night Movie Theater, showing the flickering black reel of my nights before I met you. I must've dreamed I was gravity, I've fallen for you so damn hard.

It's All Temporary

The Vigeland Sculpture Park Ladies

. . . in Oslo, Norway

It's All Temporary

On Being a Puppet

It's All Temporary

Mine That Bird

Most amazing Kentucky Derby ever.  And the last shall be first.

It's All Temporary

Murmuration

A murmuration of starlings . . .

It's All Temporary

Self-Portrait by Ira Sadoff

I sniff after the sparrow and the spaniel, flitting around, barking, digging up the dirt: how could I not be at one with them? But I'm a spendthrift too, rummaging about old sport coats, selecting a style, a clash of styles— in a private moment trying to decide who I am today by trying on something discarded, something nobody treasured— I think I want everyone and everything to be loved so much I get dour, chastising, dark, and sometimes hate so much I can't go for a stroll without recycling the moment they dropped acid on my palm, the thousand ways I could ease their demise—dipping them into a river of invective that seems futile and enticing—whether it’s the Secretary of State or a species of white shirts and thin black ties who exude smugness, who quote from the bible as if it were the Bible. It's like having an affair— they all end badly, don't they?—thereby the passion flies out of me like an open window in February: take the heat, world, disperse it before I undress another thought.

It's All Temporary

Energy Debate

It's All Temporary

The Road Home

An ant hurries along a threshing floor
with its wheat grain, moving
between huge stacks
of wheat, not knowing the
abundance
all around.  It thinks its one
grain
is all there is to love.

So we choose a tiny seed to
be devoted to.
This body, one path or one
teacher.
Look wider and farther.

The essence of every human
being can see,
and what that essence - eye
takes in,
the being becomes. Saturn
Solomon!

The ocean pours through a
jar,
and you might say it swims
inside
the fish! This mystery gives
peace to
your longing and makes the
road home home.

Rumi


It's All Temporary

Cappriccio Italien

Heard this at a concert in Hamburg - sent me right into orbit!

It's All Temporary