Full moon through my writing room windowpanes.
Moon bright white, blemished with cobwebbed shadows.
Moon, glowing molecule of great insane
idea, ignite my dark mind. I bow
to your bright sphere, dull blades of my open
blinds failing to slice your bobbing globe. Moon
recalling bouncing ball, rhythmic Chopin
conducting our moviehouse chorus. Soon
you’ll dissolve from sight in this cloudy night.
Moon, my soul finding hope in darkest space,
make space for all of me. Earth without light
grows cold, threatens my entire kneeling race.
Before you’re gone, lead us in song, some tune
inviting love’s meager glimmer, oh Moon.
Roger Armbrust
March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
TO LOVE AS NO ONE THOUGHT
I reviewed exact words with my sponsor,
then went and knocked on her door. Told her how,
sober, I pictured her nights of terror—
not knowing what monster lurked, form embowed
like a hunchback, soon to rage through our rooms,
an insane storm. Explained I no longer
explode as beast, now work for peace, assume
roles of quiet service, thanks to stronger
spirit deep within, gift of our breathing
universe. She took it better than I’d
hoped. (Not everyone has.) On my leaving,
I’d descend steps of her new home, sad pride’s
crust of crushed dust stuffed in my pocket. Say
to myself, This is the easier way.
Roger Armbrust
March 30, 2010
then went and knocked on her door. Told her how,
sober, I pictured her nights of terror—
not knowing what monster lurked, form embowed
like a hunchback, soon to rage through our rooms,
an insane storm. Explained I no longer
explode as beast, now work for peace, assume
roles of quiet service, thanks to stronger
spirit deep within, gift of our breathing
universe. She took it better than I’d
hoped. (Not everyone has.) On my leaving,
I’d descend steps of her new home, sad pride’s
crust of crushed dust stuffed in my pocket. Say
to myself, This is the easier way.
Roger Armbrust
March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
BLUSH WITH A STRANGE FIRE
This infernal list I dreaded so long,
this internal death row of shame at last
scratched on paper, putting names to past wrongs,
those loved ones and others—honesty casts
me no longer as victim. Preps my heart
to open like small glass case of humble
pebbles at wounded royalty’s ramparts.
This concrete row of humans I’ve stumbled
through, shoving them aside with vile ego,
doesn’t even conceive it awaits me.
Soon I’ll approach them, softly let them know
I wish to come talk, write how I’m sorry
if they’re far off, or call them, it depends.
State clearly my intent to make amends.
Roger Armbrust
March 27, 2010
this internal death row of shame at last
scratched on paper, putting names to past wrongs,
those loved ones and others—honesty casts
me no longer as victim. Preps my heart
to open like small glass case of humble
pebbles at wounded royalty’s ramparts.
This concrete row of humans I’ve stumbled
through, shoving them aside with vile ego,
doesn’t even conceive it awaits me.
Soon I’ll approach them, softly let them know
I wish to come talk, write how I’m sorry
if they’re far off, or call them, it depends.
State clearly my intent to make amends.
Roger Armbrust
March 27, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
AFTER AGING AS MASKS
I’ve learned, at last, humble derives from Greek
meaning earth. As basic as life gets. I’ve
learned humility, for me, means to seek
reality, become aware I thrive
in its power, accept how masks stay sealed
to my face until this one higher source
chooses to remove them. When it’s revealed
me to myself, I pray, Keep me on course
through this day and night. Sober actions, please.
Then I try to pay attention to all
I think, feel, and say; do I move with ease
through gifted air as honest soul, or fall
back on fear, try to suck another’s breath
away, assuring relationship’s death.
Roger Armbrust
March 20, 2010
meaning earth. As basic as life gets. I’ve
learned humility, for me, means to seek
reality, become aware I thrive
in its power, accept how masks stay sealed
to my face until this one higher source
chooses to remove them. When it’s revealed
me to myself, I pray, Keep me on course
through this day and night. Sober actions, please.
Then I try to pay attention to all
I think, feel, and say; do I move with ease
through gifted air as honest soul, or fall
back on fear, try to suck another’s breath
away, assuring relationship’s death.
Roger Armbrust
March 20, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
OUT BEYOND OUR RECALL
We keep struggling to experience what
we already know. We can’t remember.
Why? Perhaps our cell cycles, their secret
society—mass producing members
for such brief existence—withers recall
with every minute life’s sudden ending.
Is what we deem memory, after all,
only instinct? When we long for blending
to families and tribes, is this merely
cells’ magnetic power? Cytoplasm
sailing nuclei toward collision? We
base our relationships on orgasm,
accept each war as though it’s religion,
dismembering bodies with precision.
Roger Armbrust
March 19, 2010
we already know. We can’t remember.
Why? Perhaps our cell cycles, their secret
society—mass producing members
for such brief existence—withers recall
with every minute life’s sudden ending.
Is what we deem memory, after all,
only instinct? When we long for blending
to families and tribes, is this merely
cells’ magnetic power? Cytoplasm
sailing nuclei toward collision? We
base our relationships on orgasm,
accept each war as though it’s religion,
dismembering bodies with precision.
Roger Armbrust
March 19, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
RIPENED UNTIL REAL
So now I’m complete to this textured point,
soul’s cavity scraped of sinful decay,
crushed offenses laid in a row, conjoined
in patterns revealing my defects. Say
I’m a new man. You’d cite feeling not fact.
We’ve neared a great first half. Now to spend time
alone, reflect, invite conscious contact,
measure my willingness to replace crimes
with actions of honest service, let go
of all to the Great All. Time to light my
own candle. Time to bind and place ego
over the flame, let its ashes soar high
as sacrifice: prayer to hold hands steady
as sign my entire being is ready.
Roger Armbrust
March 18, 2010
soul’s cavity scraped of sinful decay,
crushed offenses laid in a row, conjoined
in patterns revealing my defects. Say
I’m a new man. You’d cite feeling not fact.
We’ve neared a great first half. Now to spend time
alone, reflect, invite conscious contact,
measure my willingness to replace crimes
with actions of honest service, let go
of all to the Great All. Time to light my
own candle. Time to bind and place ego
over the flame, let its ashes soar high
as sacrifice: prayer to hold hands steady
as sign my entire being is ready.
Roger Armbrust
March 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
LIFE REVEALS ITSELF QUIETLY
Pulling out my fourth step’s typed pages, I
began to rattle off old transgressions.
My sponsor quickly stopped me, saying, “Why
don’t I light a candle? For confession,
let’s invite God in.” He lit the candle.
It’s soft flame calmed my heart. My voice assumed
an easy cadence. What seemed dire scandals
turned to faded ghosts. At times I presumed
my action irredeemable, this world’s
lone scar. He’d nod. Say, “I did the same thing.”
Finding him human, my surprised brain swirled
briefly. Then sensed relief. Our hours talking
led to silence. I said, “Done.” He said, “Good.”
We went out for food. Spoke of gratitude.
Roger Armbrust
March 17, 2010
began to rattle off old transgressions.
My sponsor quickly stopped me, saying, “Why
don’t I light a candle? For confession,
let’s invite God in.” He lit the candle.
It’s soft flame calmed my heart. My voice assumed
an easy cadence. What seemed dire scandals
turned to faded ghosts. At times I presumed
my action irredeemable, this world’s
lone scar. He’d nod. Say, “I did the same thing.”
Finding him human, my surprised brain swirled
briefly. Then sensed relief. Our hours talking
led to silence. I said, “Done.” He said, “Good.”
We went out for food. Spoke of gratitude.
Roger Armbrust
March 17, 2010
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