Upside Down Kris

  Out of the Gray The world goes by gray or forest green. Sometimes there are whitish squiggles leading somewhere into the fog, or big blobs of blackened green as trees. The land is landish and the fog is flat, forming an indistinct horizon. The scene outside the train would have been food for impressionists. It gives the feeling of being suspended, of sky searching for land and land searching for itself. I am glad to be behind glass, feeling protected from the drabness. As long as the florescent lights of the train illuminate a little too much, the blue of the seats stays shocking, and the red line shows the way to the exit, I am safe. Gray is for people outside the train, not me. I am where there is bright. I will not fall into the smoke. I am aware this is a selfish view of my position, but maybe it's also self preservation. I don't want to be pulled in a direction I don't want to go. The train is flying past the gray and I paid to be on it. I worked to be on it. And n

  Park Perfection A pigeon crosses my path of vision as I follow its reflections in the park as well as my own. I am a backdrop for the light as it filters through the swirls of the white chair. I am sitting on cold, painted metal, but that doesn't lessen its charms in the October light. I am Chinese shadows representing a hooded figure with coffee. Am I the one in the seat or in the shadows? Which one represents me more? Maybe I like what I see in the shadows. Broadening my view, there are many fountains spraying out of thin poles.They could be grand parasols or delicate masts mounted with a cream colored sail. Some in the shade are tied around the waist so they can't set sail, but they still leave their mark in the autumn air, saluting it. Beyond the park of poles majestic trees form a magnificent back drop for this fall scene. They are a delicious medley of greens muted with reddish or yellow tones.My favorite is the tree with his leaves mimicking the weeping Willow. Maybe W

Silence's Charms The Silence of the day slips into me. She is not overt with her intentions...she just creeps up out of the waiting concrete and the clocks that are cloaking their clicking. I am ready for it-whatever she may bring. The truth is Silence has no plans: she's just hanging out. It's not like she is lurking in the darkness, ready to strike. She simply stays and adds to infinity.  She is not to fear. It is our walking into silence that we fear, of not waking from it somehow. However, she's just sitting on her comfortable cushion in no hurry at all, just content to be . She would be surprised to learn that so many of us are threatened by her. I lose my outlines in her, putting her on like a cloak. I wear her because I like her smell: that still scent that warms the air. I love her voice which says all the more in its echo. If I really listen to her, she is streaked with knowing. She also has blips of the day, maybe in the vibrations of moving metal or the refle

  Love and Messiness Love, along with the wonderful gush that often accompanies it, also means dealing with a lot of crap. One's own crap, a loved one's crap...we all have our idiosyncrasies: things we are not willing to go without or give up, things we have trouble letting go, things we wish were better, things we have trouble expressing... All this gets muddled into the crap we deal out and have to deal with. Maybe there are different levels of crappiness depending on how much of the crap is mucked, sticking to our pores and clogging us up. So, what do we do with the crap? My best answer is to b e patient when it calls for it and take a stand when the level of crappiness becomes too thick.  Remember, we all are dealing with our own mess.  If we realize that it's our personal crappiness that's making others miserable, I think we have to own it at some point and try to clean it up. Crabbiness and crappiness often go together. The most important thing is to forgive the c