swimming centers me, fallen japanese maple leaves sink in water, nestle between my toes, stick to shoulders, i am a leaf magnet, like the man feeding pigeons in central park, the tree likes me, i think, gifts from above, cold water thoughts, staring at stars, nameless constellations, pump arms and legs harder, keep the heart moving blood to numb fingers, i have a rock on pool’s ledge for coyotes, but i would never throw anything, maybe splash or yell, coyotes won’t visit, worries disappear, this is a good night.
Tag: Breathing
How To Commute On A California Highway
first, don’t get in your car, bike the 18 miles, you will never get there in time and that’s okay, second, stay in the right lane, but go at least 75, this scares cars getting on the freeway, but the thrill is worth it, if you must leave the right lane, do it quickly, stare at old toyota camrys, space out for several seconds, this was your high school ride, keep wishing you were younger, never turn on the radio, it interferes with your breathing, listen to your inhale/exhale, if a tesla is speeding (and they always are), drive nearby, they will get pulled over, not you, if you see an 18 wheeler, stay behind it, imagine that square as a canvas, what would banksy paint there? try to remember that each vehicle contains at least one human, they are really alive, you must protect them, this means checking blind spots and using a turn signal, whatever you do, don’t think too much, the asphalt and fluorescent lines don’t care, they’ve seen thousands of you.
Swimming As Meditation
i’m experienced in walking meditation. one step slowly in front of another, ball of foot, then toes, and finally the heel, like a dog carefully touching december’s first snow. the point of walking meditation is to go nowhere, except within, and this can happen while breathing each breath, one inhale, one exhale. in the pool where i paddle pushing water with palms and legs and arms, maple leaves glide near me on the surface where i pretend to walk in deep water, treading instead. i sometimes pray, that my back heals, that i can be kinder, that i will live without fear. with glances i watch the trees, today it was a pileated woodpecker, the birds know more than i, about when to move quickly and when to just sit and wait. my quick days are over, the waiting days are here, breathe in, breathe out.
Enduring 2020
introvert, he is one
quiet with his time
passing the days like
a sleeping couch dog
not to say he
doesn’t pay attention to
it all, the unraveling
of life in this
magical year of screens
and awful virus dreams
breathing is so much
of the hours, in silence
content and aware that
maybe there really is
nothing more important
Anonymous
no one knows who
i am, no photos
of me on a
screen, where i might
look wealthy or important
wearing a suit, standing
serious, ready to buy
or sell something, or
convince you that i
am indeed successful,
i walk, don’t drive
a tesla, or anything,
and therefore you might
not know me and
how i sometimes just
stare at trees and
how that is just
fine, good enough to
breathe and watch you
in wonder, trying so
hard to be somebody
Daniel W. Polk 