Shrinking heads

Expanding hearts

the psychology poems

 

(heart image)

 

©2003

  1. Neil Meili

 

 

It is difficult

 

to get the news from poems

 

      yet men die miserably every day

 

for lack

 

of what is found there.

 

William Carlos Williams


 

 

CONTENTS

 

MEMORIES OF THREE OR FOUR

BLUE EYED BOY

FIRST ART PROJECT

REED BETWEEN THE LIONS

MY COUSIN WAYNE

BIG BOYS

A GUY THING

LINKS

AUSTIN

JUDY

FOR JOAN

DEBBIE – SIX MONTHS LATER

A DEBBIE MOMENT

IUDITA

UNSPEAKABLE

THE LIZARD

MOTHERIN UP

EGGSHELLS NEED LOVE TOO

PROJECTION

UNDERSTANDING THE FEMININE

LULLABY TO POLARITY

BECOMING

WHEN THE STORMS CAME

A VALENTINE FOR DORSEY

THE THERAPIST PRACTICES HER ART

ROPE BURNS

MONA LISA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I can embrace all the parts of me

 

maybe then I can see how God sees me


MEMORIES OF THREE OR FOUR

 

 

I remember being nestled

 

in that old ranch kitchen

 

deep in the warmth of washday Monday

 

 

The Maytag’s liquid sounds mixing

 

with the gentle driving chugs

 

of the little gas engine

 

 

Sloshing and chugging sloshing and chugging

 

as I curled up beside it

 

in the great pile of laundry

 

rich with the smells of the people I loved

 

 

Half asleep half awake I floated there

 

all my senses safely cradled and warmed

 

and part of a rhythm and a sound

 

like a heartbeat in a womb


BLUE EYED BOY

 

 

Blue eyed boy

 

blasts off from breakfast like a quail on a rail

 

 

Collie dog leaps on board

 

and they’re off across the prairie

 

barely touching the tops of hills

 

 

Sun gives warmth or cloud gives shade

 

all depending on his whim

 

birds and rocks and swaying grass

 

everything living embraces him

 

 

Burrs don’t stick and thorns don’t prick

 

fences joining in the play

 

happily turn their barbs away

 

 

Floating along on the wings of four

 

not long now till they slam that door


FIRST ART PROJECT

 

 

It took a long time to pound

 

a whole keg of brand new spikes

 

into the hard ranch yard

 

 

A silvery path

 

paved with shining heads

 

danced bright in the prairie sun

 

 

I stood back

 

young and strong and proud

 

and knew that it was beautiful and good

 

 

My father thought he had to teach

 

 

There was no room for art

 

in a hard yard in a hard world

 

 

It was a long time before I tried again


REED BETWEEN THE LIONS

 

My mother’s will

was always stronger than my won’t

 

My father’s won’t

was always stronger than my will

 

Caretaker soft or Cowboy strong

 

How quick I learned to change my face

to face the faces that I faced

 

And

 

I can still spin that mirror now

so you can see the face you want to see

 

But neither you nor I will know

which one is me


MY COUSIN WAYNE

 

 

When Wayne was thirteen

he had the finest blondest hair

the finest features and the finest mind

of all the cousins round

 

A city boy and cooler about everything

than all of us until we took him hunting

 

when his first shot hit the rabbit

he ran and cried and held it till it died

 

At eighteen he quit school with A grades

 a month before grad to get a jump on a job

met a girl and bragged

of achievement on first date

 

Over achievement it turned out to be

quick marriage, quick two children three

 

Army for security liquor for the pain

it was twenty years before I say him again

 

He was in a basement bar

sitting there course and thick as adobe brick

 

I wanted to roll it all back

reach in for the lost fineness

yank it all inside out

 

And hold him like the rabbit when he cried

still innocent when it died


BIG BOYS

 

 

The deep sadness

 

the red anger place

 

the “hang on tight we might

 

end up in the next county” passion

 

 

All hidden behind the great wall of control

 

That terrible land where I locked

 

the little boy who could cry

 

 

And if I open the door to one of these

 

will they come bursting out

 

And with what years

 

of built up force behind them

 

 

I know big boys don’t cry

 

I don’t remember why

 

Would they die


A GUY THING

 

 

Narcissus

 

Stared into the water till he died

 

locked into the image of his pride

 

 

Trying to embrace it made it fly

 

teardrops spoiled it when he’d cry

 

 

No thirst would make him think

 

to spoil it with his lips to drink

 

 

Self love was not the nymph’s dire curse

 

but love of image which is

 

much much worse


LINKS

 

 

Sometimes I’m strong enough

 

to fight the other man and win

 

 

Sometimes I’m strong enough

 

to keep all my feelings in

 

 

Sometimes I’m strong enough

 

to push your love away

 

 

Sometimes, yes sometimes, I think

 

I’m only as weak as my strongest link


AUSTIN

 

 

My daughter Patricia

 

meets a young man in Austin

 

 

He tells her a story

 

about the time he decided to end it all

 

 

Walking home from buying the gun

 

he meets a woman on the street

 

 

She smiles at him as they pass

 

 

He throws the gun away


JUDY

 

Judy was a beauty

tall and blonde and shy

early this month she decided to die

 

Those soft wise eyes those curling lashes

all now ashes

 

We have been friends for twenty years

hugs and coffee when in town

cards when far away

 

And always the latest poetry

 

She said it was important, and it touched her

in places nothing and no one else could reach

 

Three years ago

I put my neck in a green eyed noose

 

I sent no cards, I did not call

 

I do not know if I could have saved her

although touch and poetry

have been known to

 

I only know that I hate

what I did and didn’t do

 

I only know

that she drowned out there alone

 

I only know it was a long time

since I had thrown her a line


FOR JOAN

 

“God in his mercy lend her grace”

 

 

DEATH OF A THERAPIST

 

 

Even the camel

 

eater of straw

 

Cannot always reach

 

the one on his back

 

 

If we had been able to see

 

if she had been able to ask

 

 

Who would not have taken

 

a handful

 

to add to their lighter task


DEBBIE – SIX MONTHS LATER

 

 

How can I write of your death

and writing make it real

how can I not and ever hope to heal

 

 

How can I write of the crab

without a hatred more than buzzard red

who will a least not eat you till you’re dead

 

 

How can my heart and hands be empty

with fullness of the gifts I cannot give

how can if be you do not live

 

 

How like a vampire do I walk the night

and in a mirror no reflection see

without a you where is the me


A DEBBIE MOMENT

 

 

I was noticing again the other day

watching a movie, strangely enough

called “Remains of the day”

that even though you died

you haven’t gone away

 

In the movie

a bird gets trapped in the house

and tries to fly

through the high ceiling glass

 

Remember the time in the office in Austin

when the sparrow was trying to panic

to escape in this way

 

You spoke to it in your stardust voice

and it landed in trust in your hand

 

I remember the windows you flew against

and it is a great comfort to me

 

That you and the sparrow

are both flying free


FOR IUDITA

(child of holocaust survivors)

 

 

Artists without hands

 

hold the brush with their feet

 

 

Without hands or feet

 

hold the brush in their teeth

 

 

As for me and my friend

 

all that remains is the navel

 

 

And small circles

 

in the center of

 

the canvas


UNSPEAKABLE

 

 

 

The chosen people were forbidden

 

ever to speak the name

 

of God

 

 

Which is understandable

 

when you think of all

 

the unspeakable things

 

that are done

 

 

All in the name

 

of God


THE LIZARD

 

 

The lizard’s curled up

 

at the back of the brain

 

 

And the lizard’s

 

a cold blooded cuss

 

 

And whenever the heat

 

gets turned up too much

 

the lizard kicks up a fuss


MOTHERIN UP

 

 

Sometimes you lose a cow

 

sometimes you lose a calf

 

 

You wrap the orphan

 

in the dead calf’s skin

 

and the mother takes in like kin

 

 

Gold enough there for a country song

 

It’s a hurtin song – you can sing along

 

 

About true love died and true love gone

 

and foolin yourself just long enough

 

to keep on keeping on


EGGSHELLS NEED LOVE TOO

 

 

Lately I’ve been feeling so empty

 

and more fragile than ever before

 

 

Everything that I believed in is gone

 

 

Desperate I turn

 

my jagged edges to the world

 

 

Step on me

 

with sensitive feet, you will be sorry

 

with lumbering boots, I will be crushed


PROJECTION

 

 

She has reels upon reels in her mind

 

and a bright light further back in her head

 

and in a little theatre on a screen that is me

 

she plays films of her father who’s dead

 

 

All the flickering light makes it real

 

and we soon forget it’s a movie again

 

as we both get caught up in the action

 

and those magnets of fear and pain

 

 

But sometimes I hear an outside sound

 

and try to remember and look around

 

and wake to the pain of this dreaming

 

 

More often in the dark I just panic

 

and run from the theatre screaming


UNDERSTANDING THE FEMININE

 

 

The moon has a bright side

 

that we see in the skies

 

or reflected in water

 

and eyes

 

 

The moon has a dark side

 

which can never be ours

 

she uses it only

 

to commune with

 

the stars


A LULLABY TO POLARITY

 

 

The more the more

 

you are woman the more I am man

 

 

The more the more

 

you rest soft in my arms

 

the stronger they become

 

 

The more the more

 

I am man

 

the more you are woman

 

 

The more the strength in the shape

 

of the spoon

 

The more the more even in sleep

 

you curl up and melt

 

into sugar and good medicine


BECOMING

 

 

When it comes to becoming butterflies

 

only one thing applies

 

 

Nothing hard may be taken

 

 

For the caterpillar packing

 

for beauty and flight

 

 

Nothing hard may be taken

 

 

For she must first

 

become liquid and only then light

 

 

Nothing hard may be taken


WHEN THE STORMS CAME

 

 

When the storms came

 

and I started them I hid

 

 

When the storms came

 

and you started them I ran

 

 

When the storms came

 

and the world started them

 

 

I ran to you and hid


A VALENTINE FOR DORSEY

 

 

Reluctant she rises from morning love

 

 

The voices of a million things to do

 

argues with the voice of

 

the perfect moment

 

 

Slowly concedes

 

and fall back

 

into a purr


THE THERAPIST PRACTICES HER ART

 

 

Dorsey paints with people

 

dips into their hearts

 

where all colors

 

have merged

 

to mud

 

***

 

Gently

 

lays them out

 

ultra violet to infra red

 

spaces between clearly seem

 

and hands them back the brush


ROPE BURNS

 

 

I want to be able to bring home to you

 

 

Not only what I caught today

 

but the rope burns from

 

the ones that got away

 

 

Not only the buckles for the ones

 

that I stayed for the eight

 

but the taste of the dirt

 

and other stuff I ate

 

 

Not only the meat from that old bear

 

but all the claw marks he left there

 

 

That you’re the one I want to kiss them well

 

also shows the love that I can’t tell


MONA LISA

 

 

I’m so thankful you were there

 

like a Mona Lisa fair

 

 

To show me things I’d never see

 

and to model for my poetry

 

 

 

Which is not to compare

 

the artist or the style

 

 

But only to confirm again

 

the value of a smile


Dorsey

photo of Dorsey

 

 

back quote

 

What is to give light

must endure burning

 

                                                                        Victor Frankl