Barefoot across Burning Coals

I don't believe for a second
that people walk barefoot across burning coals
and reach the other side unscathed.

I've never done anything of the sort,
but I imagine it would go something like this:

I would begin.
It doesn't matter how.
I would step on the ash
and avoid the coals.

Simple.

I would soon realize,
however, that the ash was hot too
and the coals were unavoidable.

In the midst of the searing pain,
I would need a new strategy.

It would be this:

At the risk of losing my feet
up to the ankles,
leaving cauterized stumps in their places,
I would make it to the other end.

And if I stumbled,
at the risk of losing my hands
up to the wrists,
I would make it to the other end.

And if someone then asked me
how I did it,
I would respond,
jumping up and down on two stumps and
waving the other two in the air:

I decided to.

Lost

"I thought I'd lost you,"
said the earth.

"Where would I go?"
replied the air.

"The moon could not hold me
and the sun would only use me."

"No, I could not go."

"Perhaps you mistook the wind
for my departure."

Maple Leaves Blushing

maple leaves blushing,
landing alone on a liquid landscape,
rushing,
converging within the outstretched arms
of a mill at the end of the run,

(even Feynman moved in only one direction)

blown over by the wind they once embraced,
turning faster and more uselessly
than ever before,

maple leaves trailing in their wake,
facing each other as if to say,
as they descend:

"... your satin robes are softer than mine,
your branching veins more perfect,
your gradients more subtle ..."

forward and forward,
up Escher's stairs,
endlessly

moving forward, turning corners,
moving forward, turning corners,
moving forward, turning corners,

but never ascending.

A Tango

“I'm going to teach you a different way to be strong,” she said. She placed her hand against my back. “Relax here.” It reminded me of something my tai chi instructor might have said years ago. Weighing less than ninety pounds, missing the right side of his neck, and draining a tube from his stomach every few hours, he was immovable. Even the three-hundred pound linebacker he selected during the first class of the semester walked away with a different understanding of the world around him. “Now here,” she said. There was a wall in front of me, and then it was gone. I had chosen yoga as a balm that could be rubbed into my hardened skin and the process was not unlike choosing tango as a pillow to hold over my face while I shouted.

“The Disappearance of Garcia Lorca” was the first I had heard of the man and between the covers of his book, “In Search of Duende,” I learned of the creature I had been trying to silence. Those peering in from the outside may be led to believe that tangueros dance with each other. They do not. They dance with the bulls inside themselves and either one or the other dies in the process. “There,” she said, finally, and I welcomed the release.

The Bohr Model

one proton,
one electron,
hydrogen.

two protons,
two electrons,
helium.

three protons,
three electrons,
lithium.

and so forth,
everything in concentric circles,
or so we learned
in high school chemistry.

in retrospect,
neither the proton
nor the electron
have very much at all
to do with an atom.

in retrospect,
it is the space between them,
the cloud of possibilities,
fading in every direction,
the lobes of uncertainty,
mirroring each other like
so many lungs,
the rings of chance,
circling like an embrace,
that give the atoms
their character,

and we continue
to find them
even more beautiful
when understood
than when imagined.

Floral Photography

if ...
(and this i can safely recommend)
... you want to photograph a flower
in the studio,
you should cut it
at the base of the stalk,
just before it opens itself to the world.

when you arrive
back at the studio
cut it one more time
very close to where you cut it before,
and place it in the light,
which may now be modified
in infinite variety
to meet your expectations.

if ...
(and this i cannot safely recommend)
... you want to photograph a flower
where it blooms,
you will have to wait
as the sun rises
and illuminates one side,
as the sun sets
and illuminates the other,
as the full moon
softens the shadows,
even as the early snow
spreads its ever-thickening veil
across the landscape.

in this way,
you will be ready
when the petals come to terms
with the day,
with the night,
with the palpable air,
which grows colder by the second.

Rush Hour

i'm in a hurry
and my hurry
is more important
than your hurry.

as a matter of fact,
if your cash-for-clunkers hurry
would slow down for a minute
and check out my
fully-upgraded,
hybrid hurry,
you'd see
there's no contest.

or, by analogy,
if our hurries were playing poker
with everyone else's hurries
(everyone from this six-lane highway is invited)
my hurry would have a full house,
aces over tens,
and your hurry would be looking up,
sheepishly,
deciding whether or not to call.

i'm sure it would never occur to either of our hurries
or any of the other hurries around the table
that everything need not add up to zero.

my hurry
could just buy your hurry a drink,
perhaps,
and they could have a good time
on their way home.