• it’s hard to remain angry in a zen household •

My ‘get up and go’,
has apparently absented the building,
leaving no forwarding address,
and has taken the dogs,
most of my collectibles,
and what remained
of my ‘speaking’ relatives, with,
and I’m not sure I don’t
feel the better for it.
Damned ‘get up and go’,
who needs anything
so ambulatory anywhoo!
Not me, and that’s for sure!!
If I never see it’s delicate,
fleet-footed ferret face
again, it will be too soon!!
(I would slam a door, here, but,
I have installed all ‘pocket doors’,
in my comely abode,
so I’ll just quietly slide this one
until it slides snugly into its
snug little ‘pocket door’
‘landing pad’.
Sorry.)
~ Tim Burchfield
10/6/17

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• lonely •

I love that word,
lonely.
Even as a misnomer,
it’s a myth.
But a myth that gives credence
to a feeling
that is a first indicator
of an open mind:
the one on the other side
of your head.
Feed it. Listen to it.
Ask it what it wants,
to feel happy.
It will speak in dreams,
and impressions,
and (sometimes) songs
and other voices.
The word is a signpost
of an open line,
a siren song,
a gift.
~ Tim Burchfield
9/21/17

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• experimental archeology •

Friend, ‘Fitz’ told me
the ‘oil’ of the husk
of the black walnut (nut)
makes a very good (wood) stain.
This is my attempt
at extracting the ‘black gold’
with
(no, not ‘Nerds running wild!’)
curiosity-driven,
sensible,
austere,
‘experimental archeology’.
~ Tim Burchfield
9/1/17

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• storm courage •

It’s funny how stoic we can become
when we are scared for someone.
I call it, ‘storm courage’,
which, I suppose, I learned
as a little one.
“Worrying won’t accomplish anything,”
I heard myself saying.
“We’ll just have to wait for news,
at this point; until then,
there’s nothing to be done.”
But you do, (worry) anyway,
but inwardly, and don’t let on.
Why do we do that?
Where does it come from?
Maybe we think if we give in to fears,
so readily, at the mere suggestion,
when disasters do come,
that we’ll lose our heads
while in the midst of one.
Or scare the kids with a suggestion,
of a negative outcome.
I’m not sure, it’s a strange phenomenon.
But it’s set in me, now,
like DNA, like a tribal rite,
like a religion,
and, so, as a matter of course,
I pass it along.
~ Tim Burchfield
8/26/17

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• a good day •

If I keep ‘keeping at it’,
and ‘moving forward’, bit by bit,
progress is bound to show.
I work a bit, and rest a bit,
and twice a day, I ‘walk’ the dogs.
I’ve seeded, and weeded,
and mixed mortar and moved stone.
Ideas are swirling in my head,
and I have a plan ‘percolating’,
of how to make something beautiful for someone.
It’s nearly at the ‘surface’.
I can feel it.
It feels like contentment.
It feels like confidence.
A good day, all in all.
~ Tim Burchfield
8/23/17

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• pod people •

Had a close family relative touting the argument for ‘moral equivalency’ between the ‘combatants’ of Charlottesville, who became irate when I scoffed at her statement that ‘both sides were equally culpable for the violence’, as if she were owed the respect due her position in the family, with a free pass to spout any Trumped up malarkey CliffsNoted direct from Limbaughland, Hannityville, and GlenBeckistan.
I’m sorry, but all opinions are not equal.
Last I checked, it wasn’t anti-racist counter-demonstrators who were to be found assembled in battle gear on the streets of Charlottesville, shouting racial epithets and wading into crowds of placard-carrying people wielding bats at bellies and clubs at heads. Last I heard, it wasn’t NeoNazis, or white supremacists being mowed down by vehicles in the streets, friend. You know who uses the argument of shifting blame to victims? Rapists. And those who defend rape. “She had it comin’.”
Huh, not in my house, pal.
There is no moral equivalency.
I can’t bring myself to hate the person, but I can damn’ well hate the speech.
You can believe any laughable nonsense you want, it’s your right to be wrong and to spew spurious invectives and blatant balderdash in front of me. I have a sense of humor like you wouldn’t believe, and a twisted sense of irony, so I’ll be okay. Of course, if you then see me looking at you like a ‘pod-person’ emerging from a cocoon of slimy repugnance, (Jim or Jane) well just know that I have ‘pegged’ you. Oh, snap, you did not just say that…something craven this way comes.
You can parade your naked ignorance all you like, sweetie, beat your drum, start a jingo-driven all brass band, it’s all one to me – but do me a favor, will you? Not in front of the dogs, okay?
~ Tim Burchfield
8/19/17

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