Finding Mine, Or, Lengths Versus Distance, Part Two

Finding Mine

Or, Lengths Come From Versus Distance Out

a poem by a Faust

I have jumped from the twentieth floor.

I have walked weeping, alone, to get lost in the rain:

In unison derided, have not hidden my pain;

among the indifferent, the diffident, have been different, sane. 

Taught to pray fearful, taught myself to pray grateful.  Over, over again,

out there before God & everyone, have caught myself, all along,

-- & if one day I know better, let this verse be my song --

deciding for no good enough reason to decide myself wrong

when sometimes some things just need to be looked at some more.

Lest fœtid perfidy sidle up to me, wetly grinning for its due,

peremptorily I'll leave -- & forcédly -- any Face of me unsaved: to follow, or lead, or,

better understand than demand when I'm needed as leader.

No flaunting nor hiding. No leveraging either.

Because becoming the person I'd very much rather

the thing worth all this working, & working, & working until

-- will at least -- surely -- have to have -- gotten easier still --

if I thought I could tell if I knew what I will

won't or can't do when I need me to.

Which I will when I won't when I want what I will.

The which one of me's me, then, surely being the kicker,

if I stand up too fast, could I be even quicker?

if I'm shock proof, determined, however pricey the sticker,

camelback then unbroken, chaining patience to care

to remember to begin to follow on up out of where

so ever through valley from shadow it leadeth, to dare

to find out one day maybe soon -- myself -- already there,

maybe to find myself soon out there already still.

Finding Mine, Or, Lengths Vs Distance — Part One

 

Talking To Strangers

(Or, Lengths Come From Versus Distance Out)

some philosophizing by a Faust

"The lengths that I would go to, 

the distance in your eyes"

—— Michael Stipe, "Losing My Religion," R.E.M.

you know, it's just like the chance interaction

to — be able to — bring you back here to the now

to stave off — for a moment — that too often reaction —

that one if you saw what it looked like you'd know

as if knowing the what meant any knowing of how

only true for a handful of cases, a fraction

so small I would think myself wise to allow

as much room wide as deep — to see — my reflection

but just getting ahead of that knee jerk redaction

just not settling again for some impromptu show

takes on all my risk averse dealing in action

risks again taking in what i'd keen disavow

if such lengths served me like measure of real world success

to even greater i'd go — much more often — than less

all of me to All Of You — a poem by a young Faust

all of me (to All of You

reflected in the eyes you see i

live forever Now & never

once the same)

as Gods we walk as mortals dream

alone together fear

(the Secret in the game(

i find i give you All -- of me -- 

& you

i know you know

that Beauty is a dare)

for what you see you merely seem

though everything is) here

i am (a mirror)

stare

a female faust

nyc 1983

Unless The Spirit Wakes In Us We'll Drown (revised)

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Unless Our Spirit Wakes In Us We'll Drown

(Or, On This All Too Near but Most Unnecessary Apocalypse) 

We all of us together living dream alone,

& when all is (almost) said, & some of it is done, 

stand (if we are lucky) on the shoulders of those peers 

made expert by experiment, 

if not enough by years. 

It's like that story with the garden, you know, the chick, the snake:

They struggle to sedate us;

We struggle to awake. 

This 'They' is a neither unified nor organized assault,

 is powerful, relentless, one-pointed to a fault. 

Despite its seeming gentleness, we find tsunami threatening:

So should we recognize the enemies 

of dreamer, set, & setting…

...even if within our Selves. Especially. Could be that part deciding!

(What?) (When?)(What if?) 

The questions overpower — our innocence — confiding — 

as bright of eye & bushy tailed as government recruits

set up to be knocked down

by once trusted men in suits.

 

Where — this metaphor... does not 'do justice,' is also where — the Law... 

ius, iura may be both, my Friend,

but in the end, l'Etat c'est Moi.

So... 'let us go then, you & I,' indeed, this time to make a vow 

as holy & as sacred as any we know how 

as serious as if our hearts hung in some balance otherwise 

to do a little more each day to extirpate their lies.

 

If all of us (imagine!) at once withheld informed consent 

TPTB would find their hands were forced — most fully — to relent —

(& not in empty word alone!) Although, so difficult a vision 

hinges more upon our accuracy than it does upon precision:

for it must vanquish at long last the forces of stagnation, 

of corporate indifference, of fascist machination…

that in this foreboding pre-apocalypse seems to me sine qua non 

of all the creeping evil that we, together, face, 

& all of us, right here, right now, must choose to carry on: 

must create anew this broken World,

must save the Human Race. 

by a female Faust, revised slightly this October 26, 2023