My heart, the fish,

flops, wriggles, thrashes,

threatens to swim

up my throat to leap

through my mouth,

escaping the rigid body

trying to squish it

into submission.

Slip into that pocket of darkness,

dizzying yourself with stars.

Hear your heart’s hinges snap open,

as you slide away from comfort

into the plump arms of madness.

 

Leave your day, your life, your name

shivering on your doorstep.

Move toward sweet, black freedom

on anonymity’s swift feet,

becoming a student of surrender

Three poems inspired by lines from Charles Bukowski’s poem, “The Laughing Heart.”  Click on the link to watch the entire poem read by Tom Waits.

“The Laughing Heart” read by Tom Waits

 

I.  Marvelous

 “…you are marvelous. the gods wait to delight in you…”

    —Charles Bukowski

you really are, you know.

marvelous in the most marvelous

sense of the word, provoking

marvel with every breath, every

scripted and unscripted display

of charm. the gods wait

for the delight you will bring

to their stuffy boardroom,

the lilac perfume that will overwhelm

their mothball-scented sweaters

and remind them of youth and spring,

while you just go on being

nothing less than marvelous.

 

II. Chances

 “…be on the watch. the gods will offer you chances. know them. take them…” 

    —Charles Bukowski

 

chances live everywhere.

everywhere. climb trees

to see them.  look under

rocks.  lie on your back,

wait for clouds to spell

them out for you.  turn on

the radio, write down

every 11^th word, then string

them all together to

know your chances.

and then when you have

watched, listened, found,

touched, known your chances,

take them.  stuff your pockets,

fill the trunk of your car, cram

box after box, and take them

everywhere you go. everywhere.

 

III.  Your Life

 “…your life is your life. Know it while you have it…”

    — Charles Bukowski

 

it is yours, and yours alone.

touch it, taste it, feel it, know it.

love it even as you fear it,

and let love steer it everywhere

you’re too scared to go alone.

know it while you have it.

take it out every day for inspection.

study the bumps and the creases,

learn the colors, the flavors. then

close your eyes and make yourself

remember the details so that when

you can no longer see, you will

still know it, you can still live it.

you will not have it as long as you

think you will, but you will be wise

if you know life, especially the one

that is yours, while you have it

and while it has you.

Kennedy’s assassination, 9/11,

The Challenger—you know exactly

where you were, what you wore

when devastation left its handprints

in the cement of your memory.

The first day of school, your first kiss,

your child’s birth—those balloons

of joy will stay inflated forever.

What you must dedicate yourself

to remembering are other moments,

delicate moments pivotal in the story of you.

Remember, for instance, where you stood

when the ache of loneliness introduced itself,

when disappointment first shook your hand.

Recall the plunge of your heart

the first time “sorry” was not good enough,

the first time you snared yourself in a lie.

Remember the loss of equilibrium

when your parents became people

with feelings and flaws.

Go back to the first secret you cradled,

the first kindness delivered in anonymity,

the first hand you led out of fear.

Remember the rhythm of your footsteps

the first time you walked away,

the silence the first time you didn’t.

Conjure the smooth stone you became

the first time you trusted yourself,

the first time you heard your voice

speak words that came only from you.

Remember?

Standing in the snow, steam

rising from the invisible lines

where their heat meets the air,

vapor fleeing their nostrils,

they must be cold.  Lonely too.

 

I am cold today.

And drowning

in melancholy.

 

Possibly, the horses enjoy

this weather, feel most alive

when the cold splices their heat,

delight in the barren silence,

while I, alone, shiver.

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.”

–Carl Sagan

 

The vastness, that great big everything

will swallow you at some point,

but you must not view this as failure

or weakness, fellow small creature;

this is what vastness is supposed to do,

and to struggle against it is to spit

in the eye of mystery and surrender

your curiosity, it is to hurl the kaleidoscope

of wonder into a merciless void

and send your life marching barefoot

across a prickly desert.

But with love, that overused word

with underused potential, with the lamp

of love you will see that being engulfed

by vastness is not only bearable, it is

an adventure that will blast your soul

into the jungle of discovery, from where you,

fellow small creature, will never want to leave.

Together we laugh, really laugh

with mouths wide open,

bodies spastic with joy,

hearts stretched wide,

about what you know so well,

but what I’ve almost lost

in the slippery tunnel of time.

Musicians devour passion,

applause expanding

their hunger.

 

Instruments vibrate,

emitting waves of bliss

played in the key of yes.

 

Volume chases away thoughts,

stomping out chatter,

within and without.

 

Bass throbs, pumps something

thick and electric through veins,

superseding heart.

 

Rhythm grabs legs and arms,

commanding movement,

connecting us all.

Backstroking

across the ocean

under poems

spelled by stars,

immersed in

the steady chant

of darkness,

I search for signs

pointing toward home,

not realizing

I may already

be there.

Tie me

to the wind,

setting me

free from here

where these

untethered arms

still will not flap

into flight,

here where

something

tighter than rope

binds me

to the safety

of solid ground.

 

And wind,

take me

everywhere

my feet will not

travel,

take me above

and around

the widest world

you can find,

take me far

away from

everything

I think I know.