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author’s note:
Not only is the Universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine.
— Sir Arthur Eddington
UNIQUE BROADCAST FREQUENCY
If I hold very still
when I’m in
that gray place between
waking and sleep…
in the extended silence
my inner ear may detect
a word or phrase
from a voice—
unknown
yet somehow familiar.
Maybe it’s merely the “me”
within me…
but how do you explain those times
when we meet someone
who seems familiar
though a still a stranger
and the words just flow
as if we’re continuing a conversation—
maybe one begun long ago…?
Based on such experience
I postulate:
at night, as the conscious mind rests
we transmit messages—
often across vast distances.
I realize I’m not being
very scientific
but
I believe it’s best to believe
that every individual in our world
owns a unique broadcast frequency—
in this way, at least
we the people have equality.
© 2018, Michael R. Patton
listening to silence: poetry ebook
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Up from the bottom
of an old pond,
that duckling
has seen something strange.”
— Joso (trans. Beilenson/Behn)
dUNKED
In those ocean dreams…
I want to bob on the top
of the water like a buoy
even though I know
if I don’t dive down
I will be dunked
dunked again:
drawn down
by some force of nature—down
to dark depths
where faces float like jellyfish:
they seem so foreign
and yet I’m told
they’re all a part of me—
even the women
even the animals
even the machines.
Occasionally I’ll witness
a face so luminous—
I burst to the surface with joy
but more often I’m greeted
by something much dimmer:
maybe a blank-eyed robot
or a drooling dog.
So next time I find myself
bobbing at the top
I may again resist
when I feel
that downward pull…
even though I know
I’ll be dunked if I do
yes—dunked again.
© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog
author’s note:
When a man hears angels singing
he hears angels singing.
— Mary Oliver
THE FABLE OF THE SONGBIRD & THE FROG
When the songbird told him
you’re no match for me
the bullfrog countered:
by who’s measure?—
yes, many have opened
their windows to your song
but the few who’ve opened to mine
recognize a beauty less obvious
so aren’t they more refined?
Only a wise heart can find
the aria hidden within
my harsh slimy croaking.
© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps: poetry ebook
dear reader:
Two for the price of one today.
WHEN I SAW YOUR TRESSES ON THE PILLOW
How can these wild dreams be
true tales of a tame waking life?
I asked myself when I awoke
from that dream in which
your tresses cascaded
down a long set of steps
then answered that question
by shining a soft light
over your fierce tangles
and discovering there
a waterfall of fiery life.
GREAT LIFE
Frustrated by the necessary limitations
of my crib…
I find release
in the expansion granted
by my nightly dreams
which, I’m told
are actually pictures
of my pen…
what a great life we secretly live.
© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog
Michael Patton
