They say...

            —make hay while the sun shines

            —money begets money

            —murder will out

            —fight fire with fire

            —only time will tell

            —waste not, want not 

and an endless stream of such

but I say, it's all hearsay.

But Newtruth is coming like a train

Here's a sample for your brain

            —A penny saved is a penny not spent

            —Lie with a smile and beget denial

            —Hack the facts and let the world end

            —Saying so makes it so for any so and so

            —It's always darkest before it gets darker

            —It's never too late to spin a lie

I dare say it's not here say, nor hearsay,

but Newsay, moving along and gathering speed.

On Tuesday, February 28, I went for my scheduled cataract surgery. At the last moment, an administrator came in and announced that the surgery could not proceed because my PCP (Primary Care Provider) had not submitted a physicians' clearance form as the required OK that my health was good enough for the surgery. I had spent a good bit of time and energy getting myself ready for the surgery, so I was upset, to say the least. In fact, I had not been this grumpy for as long as I could remember. It took me a long while to get it all sorted out and rescheduled for the following week. When you are my age, these things can be upsetting in the extreme.

Still, I knew enough from my own work that any "unexpected" or "unintended" consequence must be respected. The ego's natural emotional reactions are never the whole story. Once I calmed down and sorted everything out and came to a better place, the first thing I decided was to not go ahead as if nothing had happened and do my regular things both for Tuesday and for Wednesday. I decided to go ahead and keep my "time out" and to see what sort of things would appear if I didn't over agenda the cleared space. So, I relaxed into this "free" time.

What happened initially was a flood of memories, beginning with a very early memory of having my tonsils out when I was a kid. When I came out of the anesthesia, Dr. Dixon showed me my tonsils. I wanted them. He said no. I kicked his arm and he dropped the specimen jar, the glass breaking. This was followed by a memory of being in the hospital with mastoiditis--a complication of measles. I had taken with me a box of Hershey bars that I had won at a Saturday movie matinee. I put them on top of the radio. Radios in those days were powered by tubes and got hot. My Hershey's melted. This flood of "medical" memories kept going. I noted each one down and then was greeted with several more streams of memories—long since forgotten, but now vividly recalled. This continued the following day as well. It has been quite an extraordinary experience and one I am grateful for in so many ways.

The most stunning result of my reflections was the realization of how invariable my medical experiences have been tied to new ways of doing art. So, as I prepare now for the procedure next Tuesday, I go into the experience with a whole different mental and emotional set than before. This seems like a gift from that work of pursuing something other than the ego's emotional grump.

     Always pay attention to the unexpected and the unintended.

My "Pistachio Owl" ... Pistachio's have been around since 6750 BC. This may be the first image of an owl made from the Pistachio. I've told Mr. Pistachio in our various conversations that he is a culinary nut, not a botanical nut. He's not much interested in bits and pieces from Wikipedia. Since making his image, he has appeared in a number of dreams, always with the feeling of urging me on to something that he seems to know about but I'm a bit slow in getting to it. He's great to have around.

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They ask me

Sunday, February 12, 2017

7:32 AM

They ask me why I risk

life and limb or worse

with these people

these people of the street

It is my assignment

I tell them as they look

queerly at me clearly

wondering at my sanity

Most will back away

at this point not waiting

for elaboration or any

answer to their query

But the answer is thus:

years ago a dream voice

said, "Listen to the voiceless

open your eyes to the unseen."

And so I have listened and

and looked, time and time

again and will continue

and what do dreams tell you?

The Cane

Sunday, February 5, 2017

11:43 AM

His cane was not a proper cane

just a stick—well a branch to be

exact, should exactness be

required in such matters.

I learned his name was "Z"

because he was always last

to be chosen or to hear the news.

Last and lost, he repeated, smiling.

What are those notches?

Days when something good happens.

And the bad days?

Man, nothing big enough for that.

Could I try out your memory cane?

No one ever interested before

Feels good, nice heft

I think I'll make me one.

Now that's a good thing

Worth two notches I'd say

Good luck in finding yours

Mr. Z, you are first in my book!

I met him there

there on the sidewalk

sitting against the wall

of the ramshackle bar

Bedraggled one would say

in describing his condition

his weathered cardboard sign

declaring "Anything…God bless"

"You're the dream doc, aren't you?"

he announced, extending his hand

shaking it, I said, "Yes, how did you know?"

"They say you always wear owl shirts."

"Yes, it's true. My totem animal. You have one?"

"What's a totem?" I sat down beside him.

"Well, if you were an animal, what would you be?"

"Hey man, I'm just a bum. They call me Crazy Gus."

"Well, Mr. Crazy Gus, do you dream of any animals?"

"Nah, I can't remember dreams worth shit, no…nothing."

"Wait. Awhile back, months maybe. It was an elephant.

It was standing on its hind legs and it was a funny blue.

Must have been the stuff I was using. Crazy, like they call me."

"OK Gus, for now, your totem is a blue elephant. Name him."

"Max. Just popped in my head when you asked. Max. Yes."

I got up, shook hands, and said, keep Max close. Mr. Gus."

Deep dark wrinkles etch the face looking up at me

An Indian at the post office, back against the wall

Legs curled under him, or maybe none at all

His sign reads: homless, hungry, plees help me

I kneel down, knees on the ground, now eye to eye

Strange alter--the thought flashes and rushes by

What tribe I ask, pulling out bills for this hungry guy

Duwamish he says, sounding shy with a tear in his eye

You know of Princess Angeline then, Seattle's daughter.

Ma told me stories yes, said that gramma knew her

No one believed her, cause she was a whisperer

But I've been where Wewick squatted, with her beads and her water

How about we exchange: give me a dream, I give you dollars

You the crazy man, but I'll play. You serious?

Ask your friends. They call me Doctor Serious

You a doc? PhD, a freeloading member of a community of scholars

What's with the rhymes? Keeps the talk from being small

What's the dream? I was gettin' outa the wind at the new hotel

They called the police and ran me off. Today it happened, real as hell

Same as the dream. At the Marriott? Yes, just using their damn wall.

Can't see it's worth two bucks he says as I hand him the money

Oh it is, it is, and more, but that's my going rate for now

I'm off to the Marriott, I'll explain the origin of my new vow

I will say, I will not stay, I will not pay, not even a copper penny

Another Kind of Blue

Monday, January 23, 2017

4:14 AM

and        and  and         and         and                    and

fffft                     ffft                              fffsssss

First Aide: Whoa girl, you're drinking from a pail…not good

Second Aide: She's

cat's tail, monkey's mail, all hail the third rail

argghhhhhh

Policeman: she's not making any sense

cracks in                           facts

                artifacts for                  sealing wax

Social worker: She presents as a 30-year old delusion.

black in                    white       not                           polite

give me                                                 candlelight

Doctor: No, it's chlorpromazine for you young lady.

lights out                         no                  doubt

hey                        doc    wanna gawk        a hawk   a fauk

Nurse: Room seven will be available shortly.

i'm an                        alternator             forthe     dictator  

i'm a               leading                       indicator

ok                       ok                   I'm           outa       here   

hear