The Time Portal

I had spent many years journeying to find a gateway to another time and place. I found it in the Hudson Valley, in 2016.

When I climbed aboard their craft, I found the veil of time was torn. I could see backward through when many cultures met at these rivers shores. Natives, servants, slaves, squires, all met and danced as one. We danced to show our spirits free, that no one could ever stop us or hold us back.

I was the rainmaker, the one who brought the boon back to his grateful people. In terms of fertility, I thought I’d run my course. My wife was pregnant with our second child. But when I danced in this mysterious land, I jumped so high, I got myself a third kid the following year. No birth control could hold that Calvin back.

Fire raced above my head, curling the hairs on my forearms. Music I had never heard before stirred my heart, and I sang and rejoiced. I hope one day I can return, but I know it lives in me.

The Wound

The beginning wasn’t a beginning, it was an ending; just an endless circle. It was complete, nothing needed to happen.

Something did happen. What was it, the moment in the everything, the potential, that kicked over, infinite space, folded in on itself, creating a change, beginning time?

Time began when space was divisible into “is”and “is not.” Was it a sin, or a delusion, or an illusion? They’re all the same.

Needless to say, it hurt. We still hear that scream every day, every night, throughout eternity. In our head, it’s a high pitched whine, around 1600 Hz. It’s the sound of time, of incompleteness, of an aching need for something that we can’t even name.

We think we’ll find something to salve this burn, but we never do. It just festers and rots. Then we think that if we find another who hurts like we do, it won’t hurt so bad. But ultimately, there have never been any like us, so we go on limping, alone.

Still we hope. We search. We inquire. We persist. One day we’ll find him, or her, or them, and we’ll all speak our truth to each other, and we’ll have found the words that bring us back into our circle. We’ll be one again.

Time will cease, and we’ll rotate on our axis, harmonious and lovely, we’ll orbit.

Aeolian

I learned how to see

Auras this week. Not read them;

I see clear haloes

Of shimmering flux

Above people’s heads. Today,

We operated

On a very sick

Woman. Her aura clung to

Her, and after she

Had anesthesia,

It rose to fill the ceiling

Of the OR. When

We waited to start

The surgery, I implored

Her silently to

Stay, just a little

Longer, not to leave us here

On earth alone. I

Hope she listened. She

Will awaken soon; my heart

Cannot bear more death.

Twenty Eight

Inputted my first

Name to Chaldean numbers,

Got twenty eight. Was

Told this meant I was

Unlucky, unwanted. I

Start strong, then hit so

Many roadblocks, it

All dries up; I have to start

Again. Losses are

Inexorable.

Well, fuck. That’s my life to a

Tee when I’m on a

Depression jag. But,

Here’s why that’s bullshit. Netzach

Is twenty eight, is

Victory, power.

It’s four seven times, it’s Gad,

Warrior tribe, the

Strongest brother of

Israel, and there’s four of

Him. G-d named as He

Is seen in Venus,

Adonai ha-Aretz, I

Am beloved of

The Lord, times four. With

These prophecies in conflict,

I derive union:

Strength and power must

Not grow complacent, but must

Practice the strictest

Discipline. For a

Kingdom neglected goes to

Ruin, is torn by

War without end. The

Beloved provokes envy,

Leads to malice, so

Must my splendor be

Veiled, disclosed with time and care;

I am a pearl,

Not to be cast to

Swine. Material things I

Will lose; gold remains.

Unclean

What do you do when
Someone wrecks your work and says
You’re worthless. You don’t

Want to live like that,
But you can’t change your thoughts and
Your feelings, how you

Were defiled and
Made unclean. How do you let
it go? Do you pray,

Jerk off, rage, explode?
we to your self and wall off
From your family?