By Hal Portner
In my dream
You were a luminous thread
Golden
In the sun of your own creation
Purple
In the softer shadows of mine.
Though the thread seemed a single strand
Thousands of fibers
Were intricately joined
To form its length—its slender breadth.
The separate fibers were constantly in motion
Twining into new arrangements
Pulsing with energy, with life force.
One end of the thread was attached to humanity,
The other
To your own special dreams,
The thread serving, at the same time,
To connect and separate the two points.
Over the years, the thread had been
Pulled taut—
Not by tension or conflict
But rather with care and love
So as to form a vibrating string—
A musical instrument
Sensitive to the bows and picks
Of those who are aware—
Those who would be music makers.
I found you thus in my dream
And knew you
And knew your structure
And knew the circumstances
Of your formation
I breathed on your spun-out strands
And began to caress the vibrating
Essence they formed.
The music began
No—it always was there
Only now it came alive
It danced—it sang
It flowed through and around
Filling the void
Setting all into motion.
Then, I was the thread
You the player
You the dreamer.
And so we shifted back and forth
Until there was no distinction
Between the player and the played
The dreamer and the dreamed
The lover and the loved.
By Hal Portner
With soft eyes
I watch spaces between snowflakes.
Those empty non-things|
that define, outline,
and give shape
to crystalline some-things.
With aureoled skin I feel openness of windows, doorways.
Those vacuous non-things
that invite, delight,
and grant escape
through brick-walled some-things.
With careful ears
I listen to silence between sounds.
Those tacit non-things
that anticipate, alternate
with lovers' sighs and drops of tears,
to strengthen ties of some-things.
Some-things are forms
Non-things, their formers.
We call on what-is-not
to fashion what-is.
Each is the other’s anti-clone.
Each cannot endure alone.
Some-thing is the animated sky,
the turbulence and the rain.
Non-thing is the eye
of the hurricane.
Feelings
by Hal Portner
Dig deep
through countless layers within.
Like lucent onion skin,
unpeel each layer
each complex layer
each living layer
each layer
each layer.
Dig deep.
How do feelings begin within?
How do feelings begin?
Search well.
Probe the myriad levels within.
As with pointed javelin,
pierce each level
each complex level
each living level
each level
each level.
Search well.
Find where feelings quicken within.
Where do feelings begin?
Seek through
the timelessness of times within.
Like pulsating chimes, begin
to mark each moment
each complex moment
each living moment
each moment
each moment.
Seek through.
When do feelings reign within?
When do feelings’ pains begin?
Reach full
to formless spaces within,
to places you’ve never been.
Explore each space
each complex space
each living space
each space
each space.
Reach Full.
Where do hidden feelings reside?
Where do unbidden feelings hide?
Feelings are.
They fill the all within
become the origin.
They start each act
each complex act
each living act
each act
each act.
Feelings are.
They originate, impart within
and celebrate each start within
each complex start
each living start
each start
each start.
Dig deep
within the guarded cave.
Unleash the feelings there,
expose them to the air,
no longer be their slave.
Greet emotion with open heart,
the time is long o’er due;
unleash your feelings; let them start
to touch the loving part of you.
the loving part
the part beyond control ...
Herein resides your soul.
This page last modified on Friday, January 06, 2012