My Body is a Forest-Pecan/Head

By Scott Vanya

Continuing with the idea, that "I" am an indistinguishable whole, no more capable of preferring nor being rid of any one limb or body part over another, I put together-My Head or Pecan.

If this book, of the set, represents anything more than anything else, it would be the cerebral poems, those laced with the metaphysical, as opposed continuing the analogy, My Torso or Oak, representing my heartfelt ones.

These might be said to be my thoughtful poems, those which I hope will pant seeds in You, the Reader, to plant seeds of his or her own in the minds and hearts of your loved ones.

And they thoughts: that they too are as inseparable from you as a man be separated from his heart or head.

Peace be with you and may your days always find with whole mind, body, and heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Vanya
• Release date: May 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311578983

Scott Vanya

I've been writing for a very long time, what seems like my whole life, taking it seriously from the time I was about 11. Now, at 46, I think I may be starting to get the hang of it: Say what you feel, as passionately as you can, but always with an ear turned to those who are listening.Most of my more serious work is done at live performances, which i do totally extemporaneously, channeling the mood of the room as my fingers play on the guitar. You can see some of that if you go to "my" website. (Open Mics Austin is a platform I created to showcase the Spoken Word scene here in Austin, TX. Only a small role in which i play.)As far as I can tell what makes good writing is LOVE. Love ,plainly simply, and with no strings attached.I put these words/books before you, not so much because I want something back from it, because I think and feel like I feel my bones and my soul, if you were to see the world, experience it like it do, for even a brief moment, you would walk away from that happier, more alive, compassionate and in tune with all those around you.Peace, good will, and harmony. Let those be your guiding light.Agape forever,Scott VanyaPublication Credits:Stepping Stones Magazine, The Main Street Rag, www.carcinogenicpoetry.com, Texas Art Initiative, Phoenix New Life Poetry, Walt’s Corner, Manna, Perigee, Chicago Literary Review, Mobius, Cosmic Trend, Pitchfork, Romantics Quarterly, Artisan, Pegasus, The Neovictorian, Red Owl, The Story Teller, The Blind Man's Rainbow, Atlantic Pacific Press

Book preview

No Koan

let us not talk softly now

  let us whisper not

    let us forget our mumblings

      and pratfalls

and speak as if we meant it.

Thank you very much!

  Creation which like/as (appropriate simile of your choosing)

at every instant

in the present

in the Here and Now

miraclifies us.

True?

It must be admitted

it also boots us from the garden.

But so BE IT:

It is?!

Correct!?

Well, given that

couldn't it be said

We are generally

most of the time

in awe?

It is the dumbfoundedness

and as well the little

pluckings we do of it

making sense as we go

that leads me to believe

The Buddha

really did come back

from satori

with a flower in his hand.

---

-for Robert Q.-We got to carry each other.

Peace, Love, Truth - Scott 12/19/97

---

Previous:Next

Cistern

Bring up fresh water, my boy,

bring up fresh water.

Hand over hand, set yourself

to it. Mother needs her water

to make coffee, and I

to wash my hands.

Bring up fresh water, my boy,

bring up fresh water.

The rains been collected;

let the horses drink.

The cow's out by the salt-lick,

I think. Your sister needs fresh milk.

Bring up fresh water, my boy.

Your sister will set to churning

by breakfast we'll have butter;

coffee and baguette.

Bring up fresh water, my boy.

The sun's near rising; stars bleached out

Venus and Mars have gone awarring

leavin' us time for breakfast

they'll be back, if I'm not correct.

The cistern'll be dry by summer

then we must bend our backs

pick all the muscadine,

press them; our best vintage.

We'll sell 'em at market and

then, only then, I think

have the lux'ry of time.

Sleep late and talk of rainfall.

Bring up fresh water, my boy

bring up fresh water.

I hear your Mother calling

and your sister's milked a pail

The yeast has risen and the

bread is warm. We'll pass

the butter 'round and

if you' done your chore

our hands will be clean

and we can sit 'round the table,

break bread and say a prayer

Bring up fresh water, my boy,

bring up fresh water.

---

Previous:Next

I am no longer

I am no longer laughing in the face of Death.

He is laughing in mine.

He says to me,

"You have spent all of your time

on idle trifles hoping to find

some meaning to the journey.

Yet now that you see me looking

into you,

you begin to know

that all of the hurry,

all of the toil was for naught.

For oh, most noble soul,

you did know all along

I would catch you like this

one day,

bowing, bending,

yet not broken,

yet wanting some rest,

final serenity,

and peace."

I did not know, I say to him

"you would not lend me a hand

or some other being

would help me afix meaning

to the journey from waking up

to ending.

And, Death, I did not know

it would be like this.

Yet, now that I see your face,

all those things that meant

so much to me

were in reality

only stepping stones

until I made it to your door.

And now, I ask

humbly, implore

that you let me come in

and get out of the cold,

sit by your fire,

smoke from your pipe,

and roll around upon the ground

at your feet,

laughing perhaps

even then."

"Oh, most noblest of souls,

that has striven so hard,

walked so many miles

and laid aside so many burdens,

little acutraments,

you thought belonged to you,"

Death says,

"come in my son,

I have been waiting for you too.

All beings end their journey

at my door

and when they cross my threshold

their form is left behind.

It has been a long time

since you were born

and came into the world.

And though it did mean something

to others

though not to you,

you belong with me

as do all things

when they have reached their end.

Turn now and look back

out into the mountain side,

the river there still running in the moonlight.

Say goodbye to all those you leave behind

the deer, the antelope,

the child, the son or daughter, too,

the loved one or many,

the fathers ad-infinitum

and mothers as well.

They will be fine without you

and need no longer

for you to dwell

upon their earth."

I no longer laugh in the face of Death

I cry upon his shoulder instead.

And it is not to a feathered bed I go

rather to the final awakening

where no end nor beginning is,

only then may I listen

to his stories, tales, long, old and true,

and when they're done

rest my weary head throughout the night

that never ends

and listen, yes, just listen

to him breathing -

the Never Ending that comes to all men and women."

---

Previous:Next

If I carefully remember

I do not miss

what I have

never had.

And I have never had it

so easy

as I have

had it with you.

I do not miss

rose petals on a window sill

for I have never had them.

I do not miss

the gulp of water

a fish has as he returns

beneath the surface.

I do not miss the moon and stars

for I have never held

them in my hands.

I do however

miss the lines in