POEM BEGINNING ‘O’
Is a slice of life, October and Otterstrom
Equally observe the O in a prominent
Position, stretching from February 11th
To the 2nd of May 2008. I live in 3 houses
Or is it 5? My obstacles are orthogonal
Distances measuring time as spaces
Between orgasms. Still fascinated by
My High School oscilloscope, watching
Waves in a cathode-ray tube or on
The Pacific shore but now I approach
My meeting with Osiris, my years over
Dedicated to the study of orthotropous
Ovule of the orchids that I raise, specialty
The Phalaenopsis of the vast epiphytic
Orchidaceous family. Octahedron symmetry
Was where I started; now I see creation
Unfolding along axes of icosahedrons.
Monday the 11th began watering plants
Cooking Gallo pinto, the first day of school
Delivery of another blooming rarity
To a distributor and the arrival of family
News from the Observer carefully organized.
The days flow from there, next on a bus
To San Jose to sign another trademark
Affidavit, reading news that makes me feel
Ashamed to me born in the U.S.A., tragic
Wars for selfish ends, meeting with other
Music promoters, a lost friend who just got
Fired, would moving to Golfito help me?
Returning on the 12:15 and suddenly
It’s the 13th, CD orders and sighting future
Goals or accept being tired and give up.
W.B. Yeats thought happiness came as
We had the energy and courage to assume
Another mask, another role of ourselves
Somebody that was us but not, poet, lover
2.
Missionary, entrepreneur, father, some
Other self. Valentines Day came with
Lots of orchid sales also music did well
But worried about Anatomia de La Habana
Production, logistics and cost, feeling
Sometimes, I just want to lie down and die.
Don’t give up the fight, one day at a time.
Daily papaya, iron my shirt, water the lettuce
Off to the office, sales tax has to be paid today
Using all of my orchid sales money, nothing
To do but be patient, relax in the Park
Old stones of the Church give authority
Who cares about 500,000 convert baptisms?
Waiting in Cuba for Bush to grant visas?
Nobody, selling of Cold War passions
Poison the mind of the populous against
Whoever hinders their greed, don’t talk
To people you don’t like, just bomb them
Until they agree to your terms. Why worry
What, me worry? The planet being destroyed
I was born into wars in Europe and Asia
A world torn apart, now the U.S. reaps
Its years of corruption and decay, civil strife
As people stressed, take guns, open fire.
Yesterday there were 7 dead and 20 wounded
For no apparent reason except the trauma
Of living in a dysfunctional society.
World economy on the brink, lower interest
Reduces incentive to save, banks try to
Increase loan volumes to unqualified
Borrowers. Waking on Saturday the 16th
In a hiatus, a gap in my continuity, restless
Impatient, my mind rebels, seeks to escape
Forcing myself to be content, I am too old
For new adventures, emotionally unstable
I review my trajectories: poet, marriage
Cuban music business, orchid development
Guitar always calming me, asking where
Can I improve, be of greater service, sense
3.
Urgency, daily living costs are crushing
The average family, writing my compulsion
Pushing against chaos, a time out would help.
Am I profoundly alienated, looking to reconcile
Myself, preserve some essential identity?
“From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were…” Is Cuba a home or more
Running? Cease the mutilation, T.S. Eliot said
That the progress of an artist is a continual
Self sacrifice, extinction of personality.
Poems are parts of greater living wholes.
The genetic memory field that interests me
The suffering man verses his creative endeavors
Digesting then transposing, our mind stores
Up experience then the intensity of the artistic
Process causes a fusion of particles, feelings
Images through the medium, get back to whom
I really am, my fragment, shreds “life leaves
Its wreckage in abridgments, synopsis of sand.”
Shattered image and shattered soul, how to heal
Let go or get a grip? Until the “marriage of
The shape with fire…” I am on God’s potters
Wheel, turning, what will my marriage of fire be?
Cuba is an idea of the perfection of human talent.
Alfred Doblin in “Tales of Long Night” as
Thomas Mann’s “Magic Mountain” study the
Process of healing, putting back together, from
Shreds of history, literature, art on a mountain
Top or a large family estate. Costa Rica has been
My healing, falling into paradise. Waking early
On February 18th, what can I make of life?
Waiting for my next trip to Cuba. Yesterday
I received the renewal of my Temple recommend
Permission to enter the House of the Lord.
Should I take refuge there or is there still more
That I need to do? Life only appears meaningless
Since it is process, whatever works to mold you
Refine your character until death, another
4.
Door into a more comprehensible dimension.
Is happiness a merging of pleasure and meaning?
Not expecting more, nor running faster than we
Have strength? Sold more orchids for President’s
Day. I have things of meaning and pleasure like
Family, poetry, music, business development
Scripture study. Feeling alone on the 19th
My dreams usually feature me alone, always
Searching, I probably will travel this weekend
Still dealing with erratic feelings on the 20th.
Iron shirts, cook and hand out money, put new
Strings on my guitar, delivered more orchids.
Organize to travel, purchases for el burro
Then Sunday the 24th, waiting to board Gate 9
Carrying money to pay artists of “Anatomia”
Yesterday an old amalgam, tooth filling gave
Way to sleep time grinding, the forth time before
A trip to Cuba, the tension destructive
Wondering where the money always goes so fast.
A lot of gringos on board, defying Bush embargo
Lift off, eating nuts, reading Kurt Gödel, sensing
The limit of the thrill above the clouds but outside
Instant death, still above Nicaragua then out across
The Caribbean. A miracle has brought me here.
I saw her in blue
Vertical, very celestial
Horizontal: pastels
Below me marine
Light defining the scene.
Monday the 25th, La Habana on the fast track agenda
Change money for CUC to support the Revolution.
The higher our consciousness the more the conscious
Being is excluded from the world, says M. Heidegger.
A beautiful breezeless day but heavy haze dominates
The skyline. My alienation is my higher consciousness
Sarah says that I am “Cool”. Lawyer has contracts
Ready for signing and paying, 10,000 CUC vaporized.
Complicated banks, money changer, Cadeca faster.
5.
Tuesday is more of the same then at night, a Torren’s
Concert for the students at Universidad de Cujae
Great rhythms, youth ritual dancing into the night.
Why would Bush want to bring war to Cuba?
Why would these young people have to die, blown
To bits for some slogan, turning back history?
Is there poetry in running to change money, pay
Keep your musical production on time?
Purchasing CD inventory for my Internet store.
It is cooler today, overcast, some rain, now and then.
February 28th preceding a Leap year 29th this year
A line at the BFI, only 4 cashiers, lunch time, I have
To wait in line, my book “Suite” should be ready
By April, Isis says, a year of waiting almost over.
My mind only follows the next payment, as pretty
As she is, there are weightier matters to attend.
A big turd while preparing my agenda for tomorrow.
Poetic ideas have been few, dry soil, all this money
Here and there, waiting for rain, this time
For the words to come not like Spokane 1989.
The CD “Dimensional” finished plus “Sound bite”
How to promote them, share them with the world.
A very strong wind whistling. The struggle that
Divides, creates, threads of fate tethering us.
I have often lost the fruit holding too tight to the rind.
Saturday night was a documentary and tribute to
Nico Rojas, Eduardo Martin was there with me.
An engineer for the water company, he composed
Great works for the guitar. At my apartment
Friends of their family visiting, all drunk on rum.
A poetess they wanted me to meet. March 2, Sunday
No church today since there is no hall, read to
3 Nephi 3, will finish the Book of Mormon before
Month end. A breezy bright morning, thankful
For my many blessings. This is what life is: an easy
Stroll beneath the palms and jacaranda trees
Breathing in deeply the Caribbean breeze.
6.
Practicing the guitar until my right hand cannot
Take it anymore. Taking a dump before I sleep.
Monday morning early, waiting for an urgent
Call for help, “no es facil” they say here, a friend
I wait to answer the desperate cry with some help.
Temper your temper, reticence is the better part
My parents taught me. Colombia, a puppet state
Produces the major part of U.S. drug consumption.
Bush and McCain are committed to go on and win
In Iraq but nobody defines win? We are winners
Not whiners, patriots not traitors they say.
Tuesday March 4 preparing to go to the airport.
An intriguing dream of being in a school with many
Rooms and magic blackboards, being chased by a girl
I escaped to my own house, another big white mansion
With many rooms and strange happy parents
Until the girl found me and approached in exotic attire.
We enjoyed the chase to the fullest. God loves us
He wants us to be happy. All checked in and waiting
For Customs to review my invoices. We are heirs
Of Eternal life. Yesterday I had a humorous experience
An old lady sitting by the bank, could see that I was
A foreigner, she said: “help me, Fidel doesn’t do anything
For me” I said that Fidel was old, how could he help you?
Then I told her that I was Fidel’s messenger and gave her
3.00 CUC and that made her smile. Vive Fidel!
Today is a big Primary day for the Democrats in Texas
Ohio and Vermont, on board more nuts and orange juice.
Going to 33,000 feet, high above vast flotillas of clouds
Reading Logic of Mathematics, I am more intuitive
There is a spiritual side that logic doesn’t reach
An impossibility of a complete axiomatic description.
Our world is enclosed in a large pavilion, we move
About not touching the outer boundaries, a workshop
For making men my Dad used to say, can we live
In harmony with others, animals, birds, plants
Trees and fishes? Starting our descent, tropical
Glacier cap of cloud, green hidden underneath
7.
White condensation, we are passing to the Pacific
To land from the West, downshift of engines
More rapid descent and approach, Costa Rica
Is where I live, the Lord brought me here
A better place, a place of healing and love.
March 5th with a long list of to dos, no time
To dream. The 6th and I am renewing my Driver’s
License, medical exam and I am attested vivo
Then wait in line, since the data base crashed
Everybody standing around, finally photo and
Now I am on my way, putting more money
In my brokerage account hopefully when I retire
Things will favor my hammock and seaside breeze.
Planning on the thrown the 7th, who to pay
Orchids to sell, the 8th saw more flower sales.
The 9th we participated in a small business fair
And sold a bunch of CDs and all of a sudden
It is the 12th of March, some birthdays around
These dates and some stock market action, close
To Easter Week, moved to meditate on Christ’s
Atonement, his passion and suffering and triumph
A metaphor for my life. No progress reports from
Cuba so I am planning my return to La Habana
On the 17th of April on faith. All of my changes
Are part of a whole, complementary or a whole
Life is the sum of its changes. My pen codifying
Dreams. Ambiguities of moments memorialized
In verse. Waking, the Yiguirro signaling rain
Coming , melancholy arpeggio, prophetic song.
March 18th was positive with a bunch of internet
Orders from around the world, overcast after rain.
Economic disaster seems to be on the horizon as
Governments scramble to cut interest rates and print
And print more money, trillions not billions now.
Do we live in a giant house of cards? A long fantasy
List as I am injured, scarred, empty longings to let
Go of, move on if there ever was love, there is none
8.
Now, persist and be hurt more. Wednesday the 19th
More European orders, thanks Bush for crashing
The dollar. Sent something off to be read aloud
for the Dia de Poesia in Cuba, the world has need
of more poets, I would to God that all men were
poets. Next day and I am waiting for the dentist
I hurried in a taxi to get here on time but he is late.
I am now writing from the back woods of San Lorenzo
La Paz, San Ramon, Costa Rica taking my 2 boys
Trout fishing, 11 catches and now a big fish fry
Low cloud cover, some drizzle, this is a cloud forest.
Listening to soft falling water, tender turbulence
Smooth bubbles of air rolling around, gurgling sound
Fog moving, a wet cloud sitting on top of us, then bursts
Of showers. Saturday the 22nd, re-reading 1986
And 1987 diaries, my emotional escape in script
I changed everything. Later a trip to the Mall
Just looking, my great desire in 1987 was to
Promote art, music and poetry, stop being a lawyer
It has taken 20 years but I have made the change.
Easter Sunday, most of the night I was immersed
In an interesting dream where I owned two theaters
In different parts of the world, I traveled between
Them, faced technical problems and gave freebies
To increase attendance, probably Cuba/Costa Rica
Orienting my life, contingency plans, escape routes
Options open. Monday, there was no project news
Yet 4000 U.S. soldiers have given there life in Iraq
At least 30,000 seriously injured, maimed or worse
As their minds have been ravished, our enemies want
McCain to be president, keep the wars going, exhaust
And bankrupt the U.S.A. I got my haircut, next stop
The Bank, Tuesday news was more time needed to
Finish my DVD but the Holtier guitar will be ready
Before the 17th of April. More orchids sold, payroll
Due Friday, scrambling to find money, distributor
Check came in Thursday, live by faith things work out.
9.
Bought my papaya and am taking a rest at the edge
Of the Park. Met payroll Friday, sold 5 orchids.
Saturday then Sunday the 30th, Church, tithing
Renew my covenant of baptism but worried about
Anatomia de La Habana, it is delayed, costly for me
What about another job, sent a resume to A.T.T.
They supposedly need people like me, no word
From Jamaica, restless when uncertainty comes
Church messages were edifying, keeping me on track
Repent and go forward, emotional scar tissue affects
Me sometimes, it is hard to go on. Monday the 31st
I wired money to an Argentine troubadour, he needed
More, Western Union is in the San Ramon Pali.
Worried about delays and believing in illusion
No change in my trajectory, praying, studying
Holy Scriptures, paying my tithing believing that
Something might change but I am at a dead end.
I need to be more proactive, but everything now
Is in others’ hands. Am I the Pampillon of Devil’s
Island always trying to escape? But escape to where?
Anywhere or to rest. Cast into the sea of chance
Part of me is driven to wandering but part is holding
On to something appearing tangible. Finally April 2
And still waiting, only orchids seem to sell. My life
Moves in two directions: 1. A great tragedy ending
In death or 2. Realization of divine destiny also
Ending in death. The condition of your end is
Managed by your attitude, be positive, kind, humble
Full of love, because if you are negative
Your condemnation will become real.
So much chatter in my brain, distant voices, random
Adumbral scenes from life, where does their
Order come from? Who sequences my thoughts?
My childhood is so close and vivid yet so fleeting.
Listing my priorities, organizing my budget, planning
A return to Cuba when the time comes. I worry
About stuff that hasn’t happened yet, instead of
Waiting should I be doing something else? Seek
10.
Diligently, choose the right, the Lord knows and
Loves you, He will prepare your way of deliverance.
Sunday April 6, enjoying General Conference, Quito
Ecuador bought something, a friend got fired again
Without justification, injustice is part of life, well
I have 60 years chattering for attention to savor anew.
Tuesday, on my way to the bank, trading stocks with
My electronic broker, keeping a hobby alive, projected
My trip to Cuba. April 9th David’s birthday Plus
Holtier says that Eduardo’s guitar is ready! Logistics
Of delivery on my mind, UPS to Florida, to Costa Rica
With Eduardo’s brother and I will take it to Cuba.
I was depressed, hitting bottom, until this news broke.
Grateful that the Lord has a plan for me, back to Cuba.
April 10th focusing on the bank, paying bills etc.
My book Suite is at the printers, Isis says, Anatomia
Finished too but no DVD yet . Is being authentic a good
Goal? Millions of meanings, I don’t even know
Who I am: 1. sum of my experiences, 2. What I did`t
Do that I should have done and 3. were my accomplishments
For the praise of men or God? God is hidden, subjective
We can only hope that his love never fails. Contemplating
Death, getting out of this world – finished my role – the
Play has ended – the audience gone home – curtains are down
Go home and rest, am I authentic at death? Eduardo’s
Guitar will be here the 15th, I will return to Cuba the 18th.
April 13th at the San Ramon Branch and almost nobody
While I think about form as the sole embodiment of energy
Matter is a concentration of energy into a small space
Einstein concluded, the compact center of the poetic field
It generates, a poem is a concentration of energy.
The triumph of imagination is measured by the extent
To which it has converted energy and ordered it into a space.
Then the contour, stability, achieved shapeliness of form
Is controlled and measured by belief, in its objective
Or transformed reality, quality of belief. The poem succeeds
In ratio to the success of the belief itself, Karl Shapiro argued.
11.
I learn to let go, a willing suspension of disbelief releases
The flow of energy. More scary financial news as we are
On the brink and the money presses are running day and night
To avoid the inevitable before the elections. Arabs and Chinese
Buy up more U.S. corporate assets, our future is not in our hands.
April 14th is a National Holiday, in memory of Juan Santamaria.
Good day to sit in the Park and wait until tomorrow. Overcast
And breezy, fresh air, cool humid wanting to rain, the stones
Of the Church, stone grey, checkered brown with tan mortar
One bell for 3:30 and movement on the street. What are my
Bearings today, the 15th as I run to the airport to receive the
Guitar? The 16th and I am in the Post Office, CDs for Puerto Rico.
Mood swing and I am depressed, suffering along with millions
On this planet but soon I will be in Cuba with friends and in front
Of the sea. No enough money for all that I have to pay.
Friday the 18th, I woke early and started a pot of black beans
A phantom cat walked across the roof, it is dark outside, searching
For rats in the drains, I feel like I am trying to climb a high
Mountain or get over a high wall, seeming impossible but I must
Forge ahead, be optimistic, happy, enjoy each challenge, So I am
Less stressed going to Cuba without enough money, faith that all
Will work out. I have been playing Eduardo’s new guitar and sense
His anticipation for this special instrument, all checked in, 2 hours
Early, an article about chess in La Nacion for Rico, I am at peace
All will work out. Eduardo’s new guitar is going to be hot, reflecting
Upon the mystery of the sign. My plane has landed, maybe somebody
Getting off that I know, whose path has crossed mine before, millions
Of people in movement around the world, airports are intersections
Crossroads aligned with the stars, passing through the Straits
Winds fury, sleet lashing, ominous seas block the passage into
Open warm seas, give up and turn back or go on to the other side?
Trying to finish Anatomia is a crushing task, a flood of emotion
Moves through me as I walk down the ramp and enter the plane
2A window seat thanks to frequent flyer miles. I am thankful
For loving parents and a Heavenly Father. Reading Ovid’s
Metamorphoses translated by Arthur Golding, we are here
On earth to be transformed into Gods, celestial beings, 1 hour
Out waiting to see the Caribbean as we have been flying over Nicaragua
12.
Then at Honduras we go more north over water, Rio Coco is the
Turning point, now free over blue, wings outstretched, clouds
Form shadows on the Main, we come from God trailing our clouds
Of glory, we have lost our memory but we are sent true messengers
To guide us through life’s forest, who tell us to remember when
We were children, return, learning to pattern our present life
After whom we were when we arrived here. Sylvan days of oranges
And jasmine, reflected light, moon beams, a child is submissive to
Its parents, obedient, kind, happy, loving, not judgmental nor
Burdened with prejudices. Pushing, thrusting through the air
We are coming to the warp, the inverse square of our root
Passing over the outer shelves of reefs, holding back the tides
Warm waters, calm, down we go. Delivered the guitar to
Unbridled emotion while all was recorded on video, other
Presents also delivered and my apartment is nice. Called
President Rodriquez to hear of another miracle, Miguel is now
President of the Council of Churches, the Lord moves
In mysterious ways, He doesn’t wait for the U.S. Congress
I sent the news out, finally being forwarded to the Twelve.
The 19th was a birthday celebration at Palenque for Jorge
46 years old, after eating too much I walked down 5th Avenue
Thinking of the failed and backward policies of Big Brother.
Cuba just purchased 12,000 diesel motors from China and 15,000
Buses earlier while Detroit is in shambles. The sun is on the
Tops of the trees, lighted as rising shadows build foundations
For a dark world arriving. Tomorrow I will talk about
Taking up our cross, our weaknesses and the challenges of life.
Almost night, coming to the end of my reverie, evening breeze
Barely moves the palms, lifting my page, stilling my pen
The sky holding a moments graying afterglow held up by circles
Of rosy pastels fading until all is enveloped below a marine dome
Pelagic lights studding, signaling years ago, thinking that I
Should pay more attention to the people moving around me.
Sunday, my sermon, praying for a conversion and then turkey
Dinner at Eduardo’s but not getting home until late, now
Monday sitting before the ocean, it is calm, waves almost not
Noticeable, except their cresting and receding, a murmur.
13.
Took an old car, maquina, to Prado, walking up to Central Park
No clouds, breeze, intense sun, already hit for 1 CUC, the city
Waiting for paint, major repairs, after 6 years of coming here
Havana is still a city waiting, captured in a shutter of timelessness
Paused, on hold, locked down, gears jammed, stuck pinions, rusted
Bearings, his black face in a blank stare, a stencil of The Che on
His T-shirt, intestinal labyrinth with tattered facades divided by
Heavy wooden doors, opening to inner alcoves, Spanish patios
Or clinging stairways, precarious or converted kitchens living quarters
Exposed foundations, crumbling blocks, now at Plaza del Cristo
No offers of Salvation only a con offering me a 3 peso coin for 1 CUC.
Passing store windows with their 50 year old mannequins
Draped carelessly, F.W. Woolworths lives on, its deli counter
Still serves something, my walk taking me to the Galerias at Paseo
Malecon, nobody to buy presents for, people going around in circles
In and out of glass doors, peering through windows. Flash poetic
Insight, like: Condi Rice is a nightmare or we need democracy not Hypocrisy in Saudi Arabia. Rice tells us that we don’t talk with
Our enemies but we bomb them until they cry uncle, getting stuff
Paid reading Edmund Spencer, I re-wrote too: When death shall take
Its due, my love then yet lives and in these lines new life renew
Lines from Sonnet 75 Amoretti, my quest traced, passing through
Many arduous encounters, dangers and apparent defeat to eternal
Victory, from darkness into light, chaotic disorder into harmony
From bondage to liberty, Papal tyranny opening magic casements.
More delays and excuses from, people here don’t work against
The clock, there is no clock probably, so back to wandering
Taking a 1957 black Chrysler New Yorker with red nag hide
Seat covers to Central Havana again. In what world of bullshit
Fantasy, constructed of non sense do I live? Watching flocks
Of tourists take photos of Jose Marti in white marble.
Up San Rafael, shoppers, gazers, pocket artists, people waiting
Aimless suspense. Cuba’s greatest asset is its people but so many
Are idle. Later I am eating shrimp in garlic sauce at Di Mar
Tomorrow is dead, so planning for next week, pick up some
Inventory at Egrem, my heart beat is up after checking my
Bank account. Poems on hold a minute. I live in a fictitious
World like a video playing here, some dance spinning around
14.
Contortions, contorting to some non descript beat, now old 1920s
Film clips, mixed with current stuff, scorpions on the eyes
Physical and mechanical violence, alienated man in a skyscraper city.
I am drinking water, no pop for me, the clueless waitress gave
My shrimp to someone else, so I have to wait a little longer. Finally.
April 25th starting on the thrown organizing my day, suffering
The terrible news of war, starvation and cruel loss of life or limb
Perpetuated by the U.S. and Israel, Why does God allow this
To go on, for sure it will get worse, what can I do but weep?
Tonight they are showing “Sicko” by Michael Moore on T.V.
Is it un-patriotic to question the decisions of elitist political leaders?
In the U.S. the people fear their government, is that democracy?
Saturday brings no news on any front, still and peaceful like the sea
Before which I am sitting. The in coming swells gently cupping
Against this shelf of rock pocked with the movement of tides
Home of tidal creatures, drawing out a long sigh, frustrated
Thinking that my efforts have all ended in loss. A mother with
Her two daughters setting traps using plastic bottles as floats
Maybe it is some religious rite I wondered? I am working hard
To place words in new relations, feeling and searching for
New inductions, syntax coming to a point in life of rest. Slow
My pace, it is a struggle to be still, to wait for death to arrive
More shrimp and garlic, relax, you were born into very favorable
Circumstances, to good loving parents, in a secure home, I have
Fathered 11 exceptional children, had a full life of adventure, service
And I continue to be involved in interesting projects. I am thankful
Blessed are those that are found waiting at His coming.
Good news, money cleared, I can payoff the audio engineer.
Planning to go to the Sintesis Concert tonight.
Sold out so I am waiting in an overflow line, got in, 10 pesos
Found a plastic chair and a great spot to put it: a hole
On the 50 yard line, so to speak, great show, emotive
Now walking home along the Malecon, quay of lamps lite
Arch to the West. So many other water fronts, seal beams
Breaking the symmetry, busy traffic, curve of light fortress
Wall glimmering against a threatening Northern tide
Up 23rd waiting for the P-1. Sunday the 27th, the morning still
Sleeping, a great calm, the sun glowing behind buildings
Only a taxi in the road, sounds of compressors keeping
15.
Interior climates controlled. The tops of the palms first receive the new sun,
the Hotel Melia like a tomb, guests sleeping, new internet order From London
for an Afro Cuban Anthology. Visiting Eduardo Martin
Again to pick up more material for the internet, then to Church
Later spending a few hours with Sintesis in the Alfonso home
Neighbors, I want to promote them over Mayandigital. I cannot
Erase our space from my mind, interior screen, Monday the 28th
Everything stays complicated, on a new Chinese bus, very smooth
Ride but packed with Cuban resources who all need to eat
Each task here takes a very special effort, 4th try is a charm
Ate a half pint of chocolate ice cream in the shade and caught
An old Chevrolet that reminded me that I was 13 years old
When it came off of the G.M. assembly line, wind ‘n’ sea
Bright and warm making me feel great, secure, loved under
A desert sun, lawyer coming to pick up some money, I am
Confident but some Cubans are desperate, you can give and give..
My book Suite continues shrouded in mystery at the printers
Thanks to Isis it is at least there, there is always a privileged
Class in any system, Isis says that she thinks that my book
Will be ready tomorrow, watching the sun sink into the horizon
7:56 it is gone. Steer through payments and picking up masters
Until I turned off the T.V. watching Spiral Staircase, an oldie
Tuesday April 29, restless night, worrying about payments and
Survival until Friday, Egrem agreed to a contract modification
That helps me out a lot, last night was precious as the sun fell
Quickly into the sea, If we stopped spinning or were hit by a
Giant meteor knocking us out of our ellipsis, we cant fear
Death, death is the coming of the Lord. I am not a wanderer
From Spokane, La Jolla, Provo, Sandpoint but from my heavenly
Home, from my parents, my wandering exile will finally end when
I die, I must use my time better here, to prepare for that reunion.
This trip is at least partly successful. The only God that talks to
George Bush is Beelzebub Bush. It is so sad to see the tragedies
Of Gaza and Iraq. Especially school for children, their futures
Have been bartered away for selfish oil guzzling, an elitist could
Cares less. Summary of all of the payments, astronomic, the 3oth
And I am reading the D&C cover to cover, good feel for the
Restoration, testimony strengthening, cooking a final poem for Park.
16.
Black Hole jets just confirmed on space.com, the hole distorts
Space/time twisting magnetic field lines into a coil that then propel
Energy particles out at near light speed. In life we are crushed
Spun around at high speeds until our space time is distorted.
We can break, crack, explode, blast into pieces, going out as a flash of light.
Spent the day waiting for my artistic director, way beyond the agreed time,
May 1, 2008 about 4:00 a.m., coming out of an involved dream
Where I was told several times “some people cannot give you a blessing”
A warning to be careful and not confide in some persons,
we cannot assume that all people have the power or capacity to bless, edify and
Instruct or that their intentions are in our best interests, Just finished
D&C 47, there is a spiritual world just as real, if not more so than this
Near at hand, prepare now to get out of this aviary, “walk in the
Meekness of my spirit” we are counseled. As our consciousness expands
Our separation becomes more obvious, go out from among them.
The dream continued into a large house that was abandoned with furniture
and Christmas decorations in tact, soon the house was
Filled with strange people eating my food and emptying the cupboards.
My separation from family, living with strangers, material things
Have little value, trying to orient ourselves to return home. May 1
Is the day of the worker around the world, here there are massive
Marches in all of the major cities, showing support for the Revolution
Fidel and Raul for what they are trying to accomplish for the Pueblo
The Revolution is not Fidel but the Pueblo, a culture transformed.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was the featured film today.
My uncle Chic worked on it and won an Oscar. It is the Plan of
Salvation, Satan having lost his place in eternity is jealous of truth
Beauty, love and kindness and tries to destroy good but fails. The Prince
Is Christ, the Bridegroom, who comes to redeem his beloved people
Whose only desire is to be with him again, the innocence of my youth
But where I need to be, eating more shrimp in garlic sauce,
a tout Breeze, warm, the sea must be choppy, I must trust in the Lord
He has prepared a way for my deliverance. I feel insecure emotionally
My life could turn upside down at any moment, so I keep options
Option, still waiting for the Master CD, “estoy llegando” over 5 hours
Ago, The May Day parade were great successes, Fidel’s passing will
Not be a surprise, but he is very loved so there would be an outpouring
Of emotion and greater dedication to his cause.
17.
Friday May 2, my last look at the sea – on a big pile of hardened
Cement, the sea calm yet with a voice – a constant guttural agitation –
cresting and withdrawing. Many small fishing boats bobbing
Near the horizon. Their night of fishing is almost over, seething
Distance rumbles, water encroaching on the rocks – then with more
Force as a distant swell arrives becoming a wave breaking on
This dead coral shore. 100% successful is out of reach but I have
Overcome complications, errors in orthography, people wasting
Time and I am anxious to get out of here, I am broke and hopeless
Only one option: catch your plane, thinking that risk in life
Gives more personal growth, Christ’s plan was one of risk
Freedom to fail, now all packed and waiting for Rico, noting
How my hosts manage each exact space within their house.
Checked in then Customs calls to see my inventory invoices.
We can’t see God in the flesh, his or ours, because he exists
Outside of time, in an instantaneous world, we would be instantly
Crushed or vaporized, 20 minutes before boarding, I think
That my blood pressure is high, I didn’t take my pill, on board
Getting something to drink, I overdosed on chocolate
I can rest now until Costa Rica. My rebellion agitates my mind
Thinking of men in dark vestments accented by white shirts
With patriotic ties, symbol of biblical phylactery, flowing, they
Move to the highest seats, tradition and form instilling
Authority, subjected we agree in unanimity. Passing the outer
Cuban islands, I want to rest, or I have been resting to much
Should see land soon, the food was terrible, decomposed pasta
I am getting a headache. I hope that I get home before I die.
Looking forward to sitting in the Park.
c) Jan G. Otterstrom Fonnesbeck
May 17, 2008
Palmares, Costa Rica
|
