As my friend and co-creator, I hope you'll comment on these fledgling poems. They hatch out daily on Twitter @everydaypoet and migrate here.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Life's Omega and Alpha

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OMEGA AND ALPHA (First Draft; see "ASIDE" below)

the last of things last meal last cigarette last word last of the Mohicans
the phases of pupa, larva, etc… not so precise
last of it can be the least of it… the first of something else
but what is significantly new from one calendar day to the next?
one deck of cards can be played an umpteen thousand ways
or is there really a progression; something imposed? deposed? supposed?
I’ve probably been taught and have forgotten why my culture celebrates
the turning of the year on January 1st
for there are Nature’s laws and timings—solstices, etc.
year like rosary beads with holy days and holidays, the Ave’s and Our Fathers
along our way though the days
the turn and tip or tilt of earth, the counter-tilt of moon
I’d like to see the southern constellations
he said “I’m going to write a book; 3 pages a day for a year.”
that’s a lot of thinking. no, ruminating, questioning, researching.
one kind of thinking is like that… like opening the valve.
another is to filter, clarify, distill.
it’s all about what you will
I suppose at New Year’s we celebrate the going and the coming,
the end and the beginning, the—
not the Alpha and Omega, but the Omega and the Alpha…
the whatever next that follows what we know
what we knew and did—the flow, the open valve, and New year’s
is the water treatment.
for half the world at solstice time… the Icarus idea…
at the same moment parts of earth and parts of humankind are in
the most cold phase; others are in the most-hot, and at the equator,
the change is minimal
the turning of a year—how profound do we want to make that?
ho-hum or humongous?
our perceived life may be a paint-by-numbers, but we can change t
he color scheme, or disregard the lines, or simply
open the paints and inhale the fumes
the last laugh last breath last morsel last drop

[ASIDE: I made a typo when I first titled this:
“OMEGA AND ALPHA (First Drat)”
Today, as I watched the beautiful dawn unfold,
many poems appeared in various stages of completion.
This particular one is so lengthy and intimidating that
I don’t know if I can refine it in a year. So I offer it as
an example of the writing/creation process for anyone
who might be interested. So far, the only reworking

is to undo some typo's or shorten some lines.]



Someone has to live this life
as if it matters—must be bold,
assuming that each seed
it grows and scatters
will rebound a hundredfold.

Someone has to live this life
out in the open, bare,
ready to be stared at, stare.

Someone has to live this life
from beginning to end,
meandering through
its fair-to-middling middle.

Someone has to delve the riddle
of what is mess, what success,
and what to make
of waylayal and betrayal.

Someone has to live this life
in tuition to intuition.

Someone has to open to light,
thrilling at first and second sight.

Someone has to die the death
that follows every followed breath.

Someone has to live this life
in all its mundane glory—

Someone has to tell the story

[ASIDE: This poem was nearly or partly lost.
It disappeared from my computer and had to be
reconstructed from memory. I am so proud of the attempt;
it gives me more confidence in my mind and muse.

What/who is a muse? If you’re engaged with one, you know. ]

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