DAN BROOK

 

Cages

 

even the most beautiful butterfly

is ugly when caged

only regaining its beauty when free

 

the broken cage celebrates

it never wanted to contain

what was always meant to be free

 

 

She’s (Not) Mine?

 

as if in a dream

luminous, numinous

with beauty so voluminous

she’s an open book of non-fiction

yet still mysterious

without trying

just by her very being

being so very sexy

she simply seduces

and induces

frisson

an earthquake of emotion

with its epicenter in my heart

a tender heart filled

and bursting

with unfulfilled desire

her supple and sublime ways

with those beautiful eyes

seeing (past) me

a smile that sends me soaring

into destinations unknown

her luscious lips

pouting and pretty

yet puzzling

they speak without talking

always reminding me

of each kiss missed

which melts me

from the inside out

I bathe

in the visions of her lustrous body

so soft, so lithe, so alluring

basking in her brilliance

shining in my thoughts

caressing her curves in my mind

enjoying the curves of her mind

she infuses me with mirth

deep, deep down inside

like a dream within a dream within a dream

yet I am more awake than ever

 

 

Time For Yellow?

 

in my room

where I feel at home

where I feel safe

but today

I’m less comfortable

there’s an oversized, old-fashioned

yellow clock

occupying most of my room

almost touching the ceiling

with its big brass bells on top

I hope the alarm doesn’t ring

I don’t need that kind of trouble

rattling my being

already my bed is too short

my sneakers too small

my toothbrush tiny

the sun shines in

making the massive yellow clock sparkle

on this day without clouds

a giant yellow clock

is the new black

 

 

MRI

 

after the awkwardness

of the waiting room

nervous strangers

mostly pretending

the others don’t exist

each wondering

why are they here?

one might have cancer

another compressed vertebrae

the other a mysterious headache

why am I here?

then

being called

escorted to a room

getting less dressed

sliding into a pod

lying on my back

so still, don’t move

a little itch, don’t scratch

my little meditation hut

with weird industrial music

the sounds of science

mysteriously

at least to me

probing my innards

finding its prey

trying to relax

“are you OK?”

a voice asks

but I don’t know how to answer

without reciting the litany

almost over

then sliding out

getting redressed

what does it mean?

nothing is revealed

that’s for another time

another visit

another room

for now

it only means

whatever we decide it means

and for now

it means

I’m right here

still me

very much alive

 

always & forever

 

may you always be you

as I am always me

while we continue

to grow, to know

to share, to care

always striving to be better

healthier and happier

holier and holistic

just us with justice

forever under

the same full moon

 

DAN BROOK

 

DAN BROOK teaches Sociology at San Jose State University, from where he organizes Hands on Thailand. His most recent books are Harboring Happiness: 101 Ways To Be Happy, Sweet Nothings, about the nature of haiku and the concept of nothing, and Eating the Earth: The Truth About What We Eat.