Parable in My Shoe

By Michou Landon

Contemplative poetry of a secular mystic. Honest reportage from a Dark Night of the Soul and other Miracles. Thoughtful observations on inner and outer life, with depth, humor and striking imagery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cygnet Media Group Inc.
• Release date: Sep 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781630200428

Michou Landon

Michou Landon is an essayist/poet, songstress, and mystic. Parable in My Shoe emerges six years after the publication of her first volume, Blue Transparent Face: A Poetry Retrospective. The poet and her world has seen much change and challenge in these years. Through the river of woe, weirdness, wonder, words that has flowed over and through us since, the Miracle persists. At this writing, Michou continues her quiet walk as an awakening agent in Santa Fe, New Mexico, through yoga/qigong/meditation instruction, singing and song-craft, playing among trees, and witnessing her fellow creatures in all manner of evolutionary adventures.

Book preview

Parable in My Shoe

Michou Landon

Parable in My Shoe

Copyright © 2021 Michou Landon.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Published by:

Cygnet Publications

Cygnet Media Group Inc.

www.cygnetmediagroup.com

ISBN: 978-1-63020-042-8

Dedication

To Brian David Alexander

and the mysterious Grace for which he is an instrument.

Table of Contents

Byway of Introduction

Pardon Our Dust

In early January, when the veils are thin…

Tomatoey Saffron

EverNoir

Scribbling on a Napkin

It’s quite simple, really…

PCP

Blue Nothing

Which came first the children or the headache?

After the Procedure

Crossed Purpose

Moya I

Moya II

Moving Day Meditation

Deep Doggerel...…

Deep Doggerel

Thalli Deva

My Lady and I

Golden Goose

Remembrance Practice:

summit naked

The Dukkha Flower

Convergence

Talk About the Weather

Insect Aside

Spring Preview

Springtime in Apocalypse (I)

January 1st, 2019…

Snow Plumb

Trial in Eldorado

Snow Fall

Hail Sizer

Winter Welcome

Thanksgiving Bounty

Stallion Dreams

Gaia’s Kiss

Fire Watcher

The Sound of Crows

Coyote Moon

Evoluna

Morning Pep Talk

Haiku

Haiku

Haiku Play

Haikupuncture

Portraiture

A Tributary’s Tribute

I’m asked my favorite poet…

Miss Kitty

Kitty II

Alamentation

Twin Tulips

Hearing

Artemus

Adam Ever on the Eve

Dharma Bummer

Ghost in Glass

Jessie Mai Allen

School Zone

When the Wind Comes...

Zikr Witness

Beautiful But Not Pretty

Beautiful But Not Pretty

Little Sitters Know…

Untitled

Meditating with the Body

Molten Homecoming

Borne and Born Again

Untold

Quartzsight

Escalatress

Over-Work and Under Weather

Antidote:

Longer Winds

O’ Pinion

Irreverie

[e-mail]

Last Day at the Beach

Jet log

Parable in My Shoe

Acknowledgments

Poet's Notes

My first volume of poetry, Blue Transparent Face, was published in 2015, as a sampler drawing from my first five decades, but weighted with poems from later years of accelerating evolution.

When my parents passed four months apart in 2013, the slow-burn Dark Night of the Soul that I’d kept on the back burner, while tending their years of decline, was able to have its way with me. It appeared I might finally be crawling out of it when the last book was published.

Six years on from then, it seems this bride of Shiva is in it for a longer haul. The poetic impulse is perennial, but what emerges has shifted many times. As body and brain, mind and personhood have spiraled through change, I have relaxed my definition of poetry and relinquished attachment to its appeal to others.

Poetry is still and always a practice of discovery, one undertaken by an individual, but (I believe) for the collective.

I suspect that our world is an out-picturing of our thoughts; not only our current, more conscious thoughts, but the assumptions and projections about reality bequeathed to us ancestrally. This all lives in the deep psyche, giving rise to the way we perceive the world and how we respond to it, individually and collectively.

Increasingly we are living the projection of a roiling inner-conflict, spilling out into the world we see, and which, I venture, we can trace back to the original big bang of separation consciousness. It’s a challenging time on the planet, period. It’s especially so for an empath, as humanity becomes, at one level, more polarized and, at another, more porous to the collective.

We are seeing through a glass darkly. There is more Light, but (to our eyes) more light can result in more shadow.

The poetry of this phase has not always displayed the flavors of clarity, efficiency, depth, even precision, that I once took for granted. I do sense those still working, but obscured in more crowded airwaves. What has emerged could be described as searching reportage from the Dark Night tunnel, sifting and plowing through surface debris and disturbed soil, and still turning over the occasional gleaming gem.

…Today a brawl broke out among my inner selves.

The cloud of dust that filled the space seemed to consume all the oxygen

and scorch