“There is to everything a season.”
Surgically improved vision is no exception.
It seemed our house was clean and my hair OK
I am now hounded by the visually insane.
If subjected to a barracks inspection
By a nasty First Sergeant
Neither me nor my room would pass.
But nostril hairs?
I’m not especially hairy
So an in-depth examination
Of follicles that were undisturbed since prepuberty
Seemed invasive.
In truth, it seemed demented.
When finished I was advised
That there was near rioting
As mustache and nose hairs fought for supremacy.
Before cataract surgery my nostrils
Were a matter of universal indifference.
Hairs did what hairs do,
And no one found it especially offensive.
Walls that looked white
Ae nowa pronounced “faded”,
In need of restoration.
This could cost $$$.
I’ve called the ophthalmologist.
What would it hurt if my wife’s eyesight
Were just 25/25?
He is not sympathetic.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Pushing the Cart
Dad pushed the shopping cart up the incline,
Not quite to the level sidewalk,
Gave a small final thrust
And turned to join me in the car.
I watched as the cart rolled down.
Catching my gaze, Dad looked back,
And twisting his face into a frown,
Retraced his steps to the descending cart.
He gave one big push,
Sending the cart back up the ramp,
Where it hit another cart sideways,
And stopped partway beyond the incline.
My Dad would never have left the job to chance.
He would have walked the cart up,
Secured it to the other carts
And then checked his work.
But this anxious old man,
Wanting to be driven home,
Pursued by tasks untended and unclear,
Found safety in the passenger seat.
Not quite to the level sidewalk,
Gave a small final thrust
And turned to join me in the car.
I watched as the cart rolled down.
Catching my gaze, Dad looked back,
And twisting his face into a frown,
Retraced his steps to the descending cart.
He gave one big push,
Sending the cart back up the ramp,
Where it hit another cart sideways,
And stopped partway beyond the incline.
My Dad would never have left the job to chance.
He would have walked the cart up,
Secured it to the other carts
And then checked his work.
But this anxious old man,
Wanting to be driven home,
Pursued by tasks untended and unclear,
Found safety in the passenger seat.
My Vacation is Ruined
Evan found floating down the river
In a spare tire a ridiculous affair-
Uncomfortable, boring, with no redeeming adventure.
He pronounced his vacation ruined.
Diana looked around the small studio room
Becoming increasingly unhappy.
A hugh couch block the closet--- no balcony.
Her vacation was ruined.
Both Evan and Diana recovered.
50 years of life separating
Their perspectives, but
Mattered not at all.
It is moments of grace
That allow for the insight.
Age, education and experience take you so far
Then comes life.
In a spare tire a ridiculous affair-
Uncomfortable, boring, with no redeeming adventure.
He pronounced his vacation ruined.
Diana looked around the small studio room
Becoming increasingly unhappy.
A hugh couch block the closet--- no balcony.
Her vacation was ruined.
Both Evan and Diana recovered.
50 years of life separating
Their perspectives, but
Mattered not at all.
It is moments of grace
That allow for the insight.
Age, education and experience take you so far
Then comes life.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Chord
His body twisted,
Searching to escape the stomach pain
That kept him from crawling to the john.
As I watch him,
I experienced the sadness
Of observing a failed experiment.
I was safe from his alcoholism.
While the smell pervaded the tiny room,
I was immune to his suffering.
A lightbulb, suspended on a long wire,
Set the stage for a melodramatic
Second act of a piece of theater.
How many times had Eric performed
This god-damn pathetic scenario,
To be followed by a false brief reprieve?
Searching to escape the stomach pain
That kept him from crawling to the john.
As I watch him,
I experienced the sadness
Of observing a failed experiment.
I was safe from his alcoholism.
While the smell pervaded the tiny room,
I was immune to his suffering.
A lightbulb, suspended on a long wire,
Set the stage for a melodramatic
Second act of a piece of theater.
How many times had Eric performed
This god-damn pathetic scenario,
To be followed by a false brief reprieve?
The Communist
On most days he believed.....sort of,
That the equality promised by Communism
Would subdue the worst of human nature.
A superior idea.
Austin, now retired,
And living off a modest pension,
Felt it was time for his four daughters to share.
And what greater gift to bestow than his person.
To educate his materialistic children,
And save his grandchildren from the disaster
Of excess consumption and uneven distribution,
It was necessary that he move into their homes and daily lives.
Surely a a six month stay-over
Would cause minimum inconvenience,
While allowing him to allow them
To practice sharing.
As a practical communist it seemed pointless
To maintain his apartment,
Keep a telephone, subscribe to newspapers, etc.,
When his girls already had those things.
He patiently explained
It was just short of a fatal blow to materialism
When coffee and the Times are shared,
On a daily basis.
Capitalism would be shown for the vicious,
Gluttonous fiend it is.
Separate homes, with underused silverware,
And individual mail, the waste!
There were few takers when he suggested
That the Berlin wall kept unbelievers out.
Nor did his progeny seem overjoyed by the prospect
Of Austin’s settling on their sole toilet’s seat for the morning.
After two weeks the eldest, Flora, insisted
That the next oldest sibling
Accept with grace the gift of Dad.
Mao would have been disappointed,
As was Austin.
That the equality promised by Communism
Would subdue the worst of human nature.
A superior idea.
Austin, now retired,
And living off a modest pension,
Felt it was time for his four daughters to share.
And what greater gift to bestow than his person.
To educate his materialistic children,
And save his grandchildren from the disaster
Of excess consumption and uneven distribution,
It was necessary that he move into their homes and daily lives.
Surely a a six month stay-over
Would cause minimum inconvenience,
While allowing him to allow them
To practice sharing.
As a practical communist it seemed pointless
To maintain his apartment,
Keep a telephone, subscribe to newspapers, etc.,
When his girls already had those things.
He patiently explained
It was just short of a fatal blow to materialism
When coffee and the Times are shared,
On a daily basis.
Capitalism would be shown for the vicious,
Gluttonous fiend it is.
Separate homes, with underused silverware,
And individual mail, the waste!
There were few takers when he suggested
That the Berlin wall kept unbelievers out.
Nor did his progeny seem overjoyed by the prospect
Of Austin’s settling on their sole toilet’s seat for the morning.
After two weeks the eldest, Flora, insisted
That the next oldest sibling
Accept with grace the gift of Dad.
Mao would have been disappointed,
As was Austin.
Loss of a Friend
I’ll miss Clark...
But not interminably.
How easily I close a book.
There will be time enough to reopen.
He orders his life,
Loves his wife and boys,
Gives to charities,
Adds value to the community.
A New York liberal,
We share many values,
Excluding his love for the Yankees!
A forgivable sin.
One truth annihilated our friendship.
I quit to salvage the game,
An extant thought that we had shared
Without anticipating our changing roles.
Certainly, and not for the first time,
I angered a friend.
His indignation became my courage and excuse;
Pathetic, but comforting.
I do not believe in the unforgivable,
Though, sadly, I sometimes practice the vice.
A disingenuous suggestion may annoy me
But it’s hardly subhuman.
Yes, Clark may, on occasion, be unconvincing,
And his motives unclear.
I’m sure I have been guilty of worse,
And the last verse is unwritten.
But not interminably.
How easily I close a book.
There will be time enough to reopen.
He orders his life,
Loves his wife and boys,
Gives to charities,
Adds value to the community.
A New York liberal,
We share many values,
Excluding his love for the Yankees!
A forgivable sin.
One truth annihilated our friendship.
I quit to salvage the game,
An extant thought that we had shared
Without anticipating our changing roles.
Certainly, and not for the first time,
I angered a friend.
His indignation became my courage and excuse;
Pathetic, but comforting.
I do not believe in the unforgivable,
Though, sadly, I sometimes practice the vice.
A disingenuous suggestion may annoy me
But it’s hardly subhuman.
Yes, Clark may, on occasion, be unconvincing,
And his motives unclear.
I’m sure I have been guilty of worse,
And the last verse is unwritten.
Hindu
I can’t seem to reconcile
My joyful memories of Brooklyn
With my general belief
That I hated my life there.
I think both are true:
A combination
Of bright splashes
On a dark canvas.
“Hindu” meant “it should not be counted.”
That was the plea
When some adult interrupted a stoop-ball game.
Or when you screwed up a clean pass interception.
“Hindu” was often followed by outrage.
“Fagettaboutit” was the standard response.
“Dat lady dien’t block nuhtin for crissakes!
“Ya just fuckin drop da ball, next batta.”
After five minutes of venting
Someone, preferring to play,
Gave up screaming, and conceded,
Allowing the game to proceed.
Was there anyone among us
Who imagined someone powerful and wise
Wearing a turban and invoking a great spirit
Through the pronouncement of “Hindu”? No.
Older apartment players used the word.
We adopted their rules and words,
Along with their shouts of frustration.
I still prefer “Hindu” to “misspoke”.
My joyful memories of Brooklyn
With my general belief
That I hated my life there.
I think both are true:
A combination
Of bright splashes
On a dark canvas.
“Hindu” meant “it should not be counted.”
That was the plea
When some adult interrupted a stoop-ball game.
Or when you screwed up a clean pass interception.
“Hindu” was often followed by outrage.
“Fagettaboutit” was the standard response.
“Dat lady dien’t block nuhtin for crissakes!
“Ya just fuckin drop da ball, next batta.”
After five minutes of venting
Someone, preferring to play,
Gave up screaming, and conceded,
Allowing the game to proceed.
Was there anyone among us
Who imagined someone powerful and wise
Wearing a turban and invoking a great spirit
Through the pronouncement of “Hindu”? No.
Older apartment players used the word.
We adopted their rules and words,
Along with their shouts of frustration.
I still prefer “Hindu” to “misspoke”.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Disingenuous
Ted Koppel used the word effortlessly.
Calling the man a liar by synonym
Allowed for the continuation of a conversation.
Disingenuous; a suggestion that you are mistaken... intentionally.
An eight year old who is having trouble with math,
Maybe learning disabled, not retarded.
She was born with “a broken learning”.
No fault here. She could move on with a disability.
Could I but distinguish between being right
And being righteous,
I would be a better man.
But I think I should be a better man first.
There is a radio station that plays only piano solos.
Most of the music does not raise
To the level of the concert hall
Nor sink to an elevator recital.
*
Calling the man a liar by synonym
Allowed for the continuation of a conversation.
Disingenuous; a suggestion that you are mistaken... intentionally.
An eight year old who is having trouble with math,
Maybe learning disabled, not retarded.
She was born with “a broken learning”.
No fault here. She could move on with a disability.
Could I but distinguish between being right
And being righteous,
I would be a better man.
But I think I should be a better man first.
There is a radio station that plays only piano solos.
Most of the music does not raise
To the level of the concert hall
Nor sink to an elevator recital.
*
Russ At 177
A big smile said “hello” before he spoke.
Russ looked real happy.
He’d shed 25 pounds and shifted into high.
There was light in his eyes.
Having done something that marked him,
He now viewed his surroundings as fair game,
No longer a series of grievances
To be cursed like the darkness.
Could you, or me reach beyond our boundaries,
View ourselves as immune from attack
Grounded in the other guy’s
Finger or car-horn.
Could we leave a meditative state,
Carry the calm and strength
We had gained there
Into the world of noise and threat?
Russ, of this moment,
Has arrived. After a lifetime,
Of looking outward for cause,
At a place of possibility.
Russ looked real happy.
He’d shed 25 pounds and shifted into high.
There was light in his eyes.
Having done something that marked him,
He now viewed his surroundings as fair game,
No longer a series of grievances
To be cursed like the darkness.
Could you, or me reach beyond our boundaries,
View ourselves as immune from attack
Grounded in the other guy’s
Finger or car-horn.
Could we leave a meditative state,
Carry the calm and strength
We had gained there
Into the world of noise and threat?
Russ, of this moment,
Has arrived. After a lifetime,
Of looking outward for cause,
At a place of possibility.
Tossing Papers
I destroy papers.
Nothing to do with recycling,
Everything to do with recovery.
I will never find the documents if filed.
I spend time
Debating the alternatives;
By subject, date, author?
Which should be discarded?
If asked “why I discarded a paper”?
I usually respond “I believe in recycling”.
Occasionally I suggest that keeping the papers means
“The terrorists are winning”.
I have not worked out the cause and effect,
But no one wants the terrorists to win.
Responders nod sagaciously ,
Meaning “Leave this crazy man alone”.
I had a lawyer who suffered a similar malady.
He had files covering his office floor.
That way he could claim he was working on them.
And could not possibly put them away.
I work on Thoreau’s system.
He hypocritically claimed files should
Be kept on a thumbnail,
(But could supply a list of every half-penny he spent.)
I feel my descendants will be grateful.
They need not concern themselves with
Sorting all manner of poor punctuation.
They need only take the cash, if any, and run.
Nothing to do with recycling,
Everything to do with recovery.
I will never find the documents if filed.
I spend time
Debating the alternatives;
By subject, date, author?
Which should be discarded?
If asked “why I discarded a paper”?
I usually respond “I believe in recycling”.
Occasionally I suggest that keeping the papers means
“The terrorists are winning”.
I have not worked out the cause and effect,
But no one wants the terrorists to win.
Responders nod sagaciously ,
Meaning “Leave this crazy man alone”.
I had a lawyer who suffered a similar malady.
He had files covering his office floor.
That way he could claim he was working on them.
And could not possibly put them away.
I work on Thoreau’s system.
He hypocritically claimed files should
Be kept on a thumbnail,
(But could supply a list of every half-penny he spent.)
I feel my descendants will be grateful.
They need not concern themselves with
Sorting all manner of poor punctuation.
They need only take the cash, if any, and run.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Annie in Pursuit
My granddaughter sprinkles fairy dust
On hair, body and people in close range.
She tells me it will wash off
Over the next two months.
Annie is a teenager.
Her life is devoted to Adam Lambert.
Adam is a talented entertainer.
Annie electronically stalks his every breath.
Adam performed in our town on Friday.
Annie and her posse were on hand.
Some of her cohorts had crossed the continent
To worship his every move.
Idolizing Adam gives her social life focus.
It does not seem to promote
Criminal behavior,
Only hours of dress preparation.
I still detect an atom of the 4 year old
Who was very curious
And the 8 year old who
Could not put down her first Harry Potter.
On hair, body and people in close range.
She tells me it will wash off
Over the next two months.
Annie is a teenager.
Her life is devoted to Adam Lambert.
Adam is a talented entertainer.
Annie electronically stalks his every breath.
Adam performed in our town on Friday.
Annie and her posse were on hand.
Some of her cohorts had crossed the continent
To worship his every move.
Idolizing Adam gives her social life focus.
It does not seem to promote
Criminal behavior,
Only hours of dress preparation.
I still detect an atom of the 4 year old
Who was very curious
And the 8 year old who
Could not put down her first Harry Potter.
We Have Seen the Whites of Their Eyes
Having covered the agenda
It was venting time,
And the Republicans
Were the object of our disdain.
Comments were both reasoned
And otherwise.
Some succinct,
Others not.
My world teems with Republicans,
And I can’t entirely dismiss them.
These guys may be right...
About something.
It was venting time,
And the Republicans
Were the object of our disdain.
Comments were both reasoned
And otherwise.
Some succinct,
Others not.
My world teems with Republicans,
And I can’t entirely dismiss them.
These guys may be right...
About something.
Distraction
Perhaps if I could agree with the Buddha
I would accept my life as a distraction,
A mere illusion that conceals
Clarity and knowledge.
What terrible vision would be set before me?
Family and flowers, love and hate,
Might be recognized, if at all,
As impostors, hiding the greater reality.
And that reality?
Beyond words or any human comprehension.
Or perhaps merely a drug induced dream,
Temporarily suggesting that there is a way.
No doubt it is fear and lethargy
That prevent me from such a journey.
No road signs to mark my path,
And eventual safe arrival.
To lose belief in the possible,
And find something far greater,
Is a precarious trade,
And beyond, far beyond, my limits.
I would accept my life as a distraction,
A mere illusion that conceals
Clarity and knowledge.
What terrible vision would be set before me?
Family and flowers, love and hate,
Might be recognized, if at all,
As impostors, hiding the greater reality.
And that reality?
Beyond words or any human comprehension.
Or perhaps merely a drug induced dream,
Temporarily suggesting that there is a way.
No doubt it is fear and lethargy
That prevent me from such a journey.
No road signs to mark my path,
And eventual safe arrival.
To lose belief in the possible,
And find something far greater,
Is a precarious trade,
And beyond, far beyond, my limits.
Four Ones
Four ones might be propitious .
No doubt astrologers will find a coded message
From ancient astronauts
Foretelling a galactic catastrophe.
When was the last time
Our calendars arranged themselves
So that four short, straight vertical strokes
Told us month, day and year?
Perhaps this year the descending ball
Signaled the end to world strife?
All peoples read a message in the sky
A message of peace and understanding ... or not.
No doubt astrologers will find a coded message
From ancient astronauts
Foretelling a galactic catastrophe.
When was the last time
Our calendars arranged themselves
So that four short, straight vertical strokes
Told us month, day and year?
Perhaps this year the descending ball
Signaled the end to world strife?
All peoples read a message in the sky
A message of peace and understanding ... or not.
Culture
Lithuanians don’t say hello to strangers.
Too many years of government oversight?
They don’t say hello to first time retail customers.
No names are put on receipts.
Woman’s place is vouchsafe
And strictly enforced
In orthodox middle east countries.
So much baggage.
Barbaric describes the “other”.
To cross into universality
Requires acceptance of “truth”
Beyond our cultural borders.
A “Brave New World” would surmount
Our inexhaustible inventory of identity
In exchange for agreement
And the inherent loss of “humanness”.
If we all agree to the King’s splendid clothes
How can we see his nakedness?
I will set you free from sight
And burden you with miracles.
Too many years of government oversight?
They don’t say hello to first time retail customers.
No names are put on receipts.
Woman’s place is vouchsafe
And strictly enforced
In orthodox middle east countries.
So much baggage.
Barbaric describes the “other”.
To cross into universality
Requires acceptance of “truth”
Beyond our cultural borders.
A “Brave New World” would surmount
Our inexhaustible inventory of identity
In exchange for agreement
And the inherent loss of “humanness”.
If we all agree to the King’s splendid clothes
How can we see his nakedness?
I will set you free from sight
And burden you with miracles.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Hello
I think, therefore I am not
Averse to getting upset over nonsense.
Some mornings I even start
With a smile.... and a little humor.
It doesn’t cost much,
And though the results aren’t measurable
More often then not
It gets a smile in return
No doubt ego is part of the equation.
If nothing else, I feel better about myself
And applaud my clever gambit,
Confirming my gift to humanity.
How many would rather be ignored
As they stroll past other walkers?
My bit of cheer might deter a suicide.
Someone could leave me millions.
If not, I’ll live with my satisfaction.
Of course, if my “hello” is ignored
I tend to think, “You are an asshole,
And I’ll stick a pin in your doll. ”
Averse to getting upset over nonsense.
Some mornings I even start
With a smile.... and a little humor.
It doesn’t cost much,
And though the results aren’t measurable
More often then not
It gets a smile in return
No doubt ego is part of the equation.
If nothing else, I feel better about myself
And applaud my clever gambit,
Confirming my gift to humanity.
How many would rather be ignored
As they stroll past other walkers?
My bit of cheer might deter a suicide.
Someone could leave me millions.
If not, I’ll live with my satisfaction.
Of course, if my “hello” is ignored
I tend to think, “You are an asshole,
And I’ll stick a pin in your doll. ”
Enemies
“Enemies attack at night”,
One of many accusations Lyndon Johnson
Hurled at the Vietcong.
How utterly diabolical!
Fifty year later
I still hear complaints
That we should have leveled this,
Or we should have invaded that.
Fifty years later
Millions of Vietnamese
Have moved here, and may be
Leading lives of quiet desperation.
They have opened small businesses,
Voted in elections
And have birthed two generations of native Americans,
After winning a war with native Americans.
Two million Vietnamese died
In that long-ago war.
Fifty thousand Americans died in that war,
Fought to bring refugees to our shores.
Now we have a black President
Intent on continuing a war,
Given us by a White President,
A war that has lost its geographical bearing.
If we can bring over millions of Afghanis,
Maybe they could work for the Vietnamese,
And send money back to their families
After winning a war with native Americans.
One of many accusations Lyndon Johnson
Hurled at the Vietcong.
How utterly diabolical!
Fifty year later
I still hear complaints
That we should have leveled this,
Or we should have invaded that.
Fifty years later
Millions of Vietnamese
Have moved here, and may be
Leading lives of quiet desperation.
They have opened small businesses,
Voted in elections
And have birthed two generations of native Americans,
After winning a war with native Americans.
Two million Vietnamese died
In that long-ago war.
Fifty thousand Americans died in that war,
Fought to bring refugees to our shores.
Now we have a black President
Intent on continuing a war,
Given us by a White President,
A war that has lost its geographical bearing.
If we can bring over millions of Afghanis,
Maybe they could work for the Vietnamese,
And send money back to their families
After winning a war with native Americans.
Incident in the Park
Wandering across the small park,
I passed a man with a Jackson Hole red T-shirt.
He confronted me, angered at my walking
The dog, in clear violation of a posted sign.
His two children were nearby when Rose peed.
They were barefoot and could have,
With a small effort, stepped on the wetted grass.
I should have simply apologized.
Failing to appreciate the children’s
Proximity to Rose, I explained
We were just crossing to my house.
I should have said what sign?
He proposed to report me to the police,
I said again, we were just going home.
He then suggested I lacked guts.
I should have accepted his challenge.
I told him his was a rotten example
To set before his children.
I crossed the street to my house.
I should have pointed out the broken glass.
I passed a man with a Jackson Hole red T-shirt.
He confronted me, angered at my walking
The dog, in clear violation of a posted sign.
His two children were nearby when Rose peed.
They were barefoot and could have,
With a small effort, stepped on the wetted grass.
I should have simply apologized.
Failing to appreciate the children’s
Proximity to Rose, I explained
We were just crossing to my house.
I should have said what sign?
He proposed to report me to the police,
I said again, we were just going home.
He then suggested I lacked guts.
I should have accepted his challenge.
I told him his was a rotten example
To set before his children.
I crossed the street to my house.
I should have pointed out the broken glass.
Anonymous
True generosity comes without a name.
It relinquishes its power
By allowing the giver to retain
A self image untarnished by approbation.
Humility comes at a cost.
Your name will not
Be held in reverence,
Or emblazoned on buildings or billboards.
Who are those people
Who give $5.00
To the bag lady
When I hesitate to give $1.00?
It relinquishes its power
By allowing the giver to retain
A self image untarnished by approbation.
Humility comes at a cost.
Your name will not
Be held in reverence,
Or emblazoned on buildings or billboards.
Who are those people
Who give $5.00
To the bag lady
When I hesitate to give $1.00?
Crossing the Street
She looked fearful
Waiting on the corner of Chestnut and Steiner.
As I started to pass her and cross Chestnut,
I turned to see that she was in trouble.
Eighty I guessed, looking at an eight inch curb drop
That was too much for her.
Our eyes met, I held out my hand
And supported her arm as we negotiated the corner.
Breaking out corner curbs could cost a fortune.
How many people really need curb cutouts?
Maybe they could phone for stuff?
Anyway, there'll usually be someone to help.
Waiting on the corner of Chestnut and Steiner.
As I started to pass her and cross Chestnut,
I turned to see that she was in trouble.
Eighty I guessed, looking at an eight inch curb drop
That was too much for her.
Our eyes met, I held out my hand
And supported her arm as we negotiated the corner.
Breaking out corner curbs could cost a fortune.
How many people really need curb cutouts?
Maybe they could phone for stuff?
Anyway, there'll usually be someone to help.
Humble
It looks pathetic,
A piece of tape hides
Torn plastic finish at the desk’s edge.
There is perhaps hope in its shabby appearance.
It is but one of two
Visible symbols that I
Have an awareness of difference,
That I not accept the given.
Lacking enough character,
Combined with a persistent
Absence of any esthetic,
Forces me to hold onto trivia.
How do I demonstrate
That I will not acknowledge,
Nor accept the obvious?
My claim of humility is based on a desk corner.
A piece of tape hides
Torn plastic finish at the desk’s edge.
There is perhaps hope in its shabby appearance.
It is but one of two
Visible symbols that I
Have an awareness of difference,
That I not accept the given.
Lacking enough character,
Combined with a persistent
Absence of any esthetic,
Forces me to hold onto trivia.
How do I demonstrate
That I will not acknowledge,
Nor accept the obvious?
My claim of humility is based on a desk corner.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Ticking
Slower, slower and yet,
It does not stop.. yet.
Somewhat erratic,
Rarely erotic.
Older than Lincoln,
And the pyramids.
It does not measure
Nor feel pain.
Bending, when it must,
To forces that are indifferent
To beauty and grace.
Always reaching, never arriving.
We may ask for insight,
Believing there was a beginning
That will explain.
But understanding is not times domain.
It does not stop.. yet.
Somewhat erratic,
Rarely erotic.
Older than Lincoln,
And the pyramids.
It does not measure
Nor feel pain.
Bending, when it must,
To forces that are indifferent
To beauty and grace.
Always reaching, never arriving.
We may ask for insight,
Believing there was a beginning
That will explain.
But understanding is not times domain.
Arcimboldo
What's in a name,
So difficult to pronounce
And so foreign to my ear?
An artist of unambiguous talent!
At once detailed, humorous,
Richly colored from a palette
Alive with possibilities,
Arcimboldo floods his canvas with life.
100 years after haloed spirits
Were the centerpiece of art
He painted still life’s
Showing man as part of nature...literally.
If the Renaissance ignited
The human imagination,
Then art was it's most visible expression
And Archimboldo's paintings a grand confirmation.
So difficult to pronounce
And so foreign to my ear?
An artist of unambiguous talent!
At once detailed, humorous,
Richly colored from a palette
Alive with possibilities,
Arcimboldo floods his canvas with life.
100 years after haloed spirits
Were the centerpiece of art
He painted still life’s
Showing man as part of nature...literally.
If the Renaissance ignited
The human imagination,
Then art was it's most visible expression
And Archimboldo's paintings a grand confirmation.
Bum in the Park
Man likes looking at the planes.
He envies me my dog.
Shows me his artificial leg.
I tell him it looks beautiful.
He probably wanted sympathy.
I offered “how lucky you are
To have such a nice looking leg.”
Wrong song, wrong key.
Little park is pleasant and feels safe.
He’ll hang here ‘til dark.
Wonder if he has a room,
Or has he scoped-out this warm bench.
I sit with him.
My dishonesty offset by his forgiveness.
He can easier stomach a fraud
Than be without a friend.
Soon enough, I vote myself holy
And lead my dog back to our house.
Charley sniffs the grass, pees once.
The man returns his attention to the planes.
He envies me my dog.
Shows me his artificial leg.
I tell him it looks beautiful.
He probably wanted sympathy.
I offered “how lucky you are
To have such a nice looking leg.”
Wrong song, wrong key.
Little park is pleasant and feels safe.
He’ll hang here ‘til dark.
Wonder if he has a room,
Or has he scoped-out this warm bench.
I sit with him.
My dishonesty offset by his forgiveness.
He can easier stomach a fraud
Than be without a friend.
Soon enough, I vote myself holy
And lead my dog back to our house.
Charley sniffs the grass, pees once.
The man returns his attention to the planes.
I Am an Amber Paradox
If I repeat something often enough,
To many people,
Someone will decide it is meaningful.
Hence, I am an Amber Paradox.
I believe taxes are a Communist plot,
Designed to suck the life-force from our bodies.
Oil companies are in business to serve humanity,
But as an Amber Paradox this affords me no comfort.
If God exists He is overdue
In destroying the New York Yankees.
They are like terrorists,
Always winning.
Not born, I was created
As a tax loophole.
I can be rented
To serve the remainder of your prison term.
I’m told I resemble a beer can.
I find this gratifying.
It gives shape to my existence,
And should result in Amber Paradox discount football tickets.
To many people,
Someone will decide it is meaningful.
Hence, I am an Amber Paradox.
I believe taxes are a Communist plot,
Designed to suck the life-force from our bodies.
Oil companies are in business to serve humanity,
But as an Amber Paradox this affords me no comfort.
If God exists He is overdue
In destroying the New York Yankees.
They are like terrorists,
Always winning.
Not born, I was created
As a tax loophole.
I can be rented
To serve the remainder of your prison term.
I’m told I resemble a beer can.
I find this gratifying.
It gives shape to my existence,
And should result in Amber Paradox discount football tickets.
Chocolate and Strawberries
Its not those impressions,
Seemingly so singular at the time,
That I thought I would never forget
Where I was , and what I was doing.
One rainbow over the Koolau Mountains
I’d never forget, long forgotten.
But my first taste of Chocolate and Strawberries
Always returns to bring a renewed sense of delight.
Not merely the taste,
I recall the improbable image;
“What a great idea!
How clever the author.”
Chocolate and strawberries was a forbidden treat,
When I could still be surprised.
Seemingly so singular at the time,
That I thought I would never forget
Where I was , and what I was doing.
One rainbow over the Koolau Mountains
I’d never forget, long forgotten.
But my first taste of Chocolate and Strawberries
Always returns to bring a renewed sense of delight.
Not merely the taste,
I recall the improbable image;
“What a great idea!
How clever the author.”
Chocolate and strawberries was a forbidden treat,
When I could still be surprised.
Where Did the Train Stop?
It left at 5:06 AM, destined for a warmer climate.
When it arrived two hours late
There were no passengers on the train.
Where had they gone?
Years later the commission established
To locate the missing 134 people
Issued it's conclusion:
Those missing 134 people left the train.
It seems their group leader
Had convinced them all
That Euclid was right.
Their train could never arrive.
It would halve the distance ever day,
Bringing them closer and closer,
But never quite arriving.
A new plan was needed.
Traveling, without a destination
Would leave them, at the close of each day,
Exactly where they stopped,
They will have arrived.
When it arrived two hours late
There were no passengers on the train.
Where had they gone?
Years later the commission established
To locate the missing 134 people
Issued it's conclusion:
Those missing 134 people left the train.
It seems their group leader
Had convinced them all
That Euclid was right.
Their train could never arrive.
It would halve the distance ever day,
Bringing them closer and closer,
But never quite arriving.
A new plan was needed.
Traveling, without a destination
Would leave them, at the close of each day,
Exactly where they stopped,
They will have arrived.
Fast & Inevitable
“Inevitable” is what happened yesterday.
At least we think it happened yesterday.
Dialog moves to "probable"
Where the big money takes bets.
When the bets move round the table
It's nice to have a friend,
Someone that helps your chances.
Wish I knew when Buffet was going to buy.
“Fast” are my hands moving from under your palms.
You won’t escape....I will be faster.
I'd rather be wiser,
Think I'm working at that.
I could write faster, run faster,
Respond faster.
Unfortunately that doesn't add wisdom.
Maybe you have to be dead to be wise?
Think I'm working at that.
At least we think it happened yesterday.
Dialog moves to "probable"
Where the big money takes bets.
When the bets move round the table
It's nice to have a friend,
Someone that helps your chances.
Wish I knew when Buffet was going to buy.
“Fast” are my hands moving from under your palms.
You won’t escape....I will be faster.
I'd rather be wiser,
Think I'm working at that.
I could write faster, run faster,
Respond faster.
Unfortunately that doesn't add wisdom.
Maybe you have to be dead to be wise?
Think I'm working at that.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
First Class
I drank a lot.
Not the expressed purpose
Of flying on the company's
First class policy.
Get there well rested,
Ready to rip up the joint.
I know Mom,
It's really just bullshit.
At seven I must have received
Some permanent psychic reward
For rejecting the 6 cent ice cream cone
In favor of the 4 cent one, sold across the street.
For those who claim
A high level of objectivity,
And crave "world class"
My mother, as my dibbuk, offers her disapproval.
If I’d had a choice I might be indifferent.
Overcoming gravity is difficult,
But has nothing on mother's "practical".
I will, perforce, find "world class" seriously flawed.
When next you stand on principle,
Choose the "good" over the "other",
Know that your decision was made by a group,
Who might find your haircut a sad affair.
Not the expressed purpose
Of flying on the company's
First class policy.
Get there well rested,
Ready to rip up the joint.
I know Mom,
It's really just bullshit.
At seven I must have received
Some permanent psychic reward
For rejecting the 6 cent ice cream cone
In favor of the 4 cent one, sold across the street.
For those who claim
A high level of objectivity,
And crave "world class"
My mother, as my dibbuk, offers her disapproval.
If I’d had a choice I might be indifferent.
Overcoming gravity is difficult,
But has nothing on mother's "practical".
I will, perforce, find "world class" seriously flawed.
When next you stand on principle,
Choose the "good" over the "other",
Know that your decision was made by a group,
Who might find your haircut a sad affair.
The Rich
“They will probably cut the plants back next week,
I don’t think they will be coming this week.”
So spoke the lady who lives in the very large corner house,
Where her plants now cover a public sidewalk.
“I think my gardeners are very nice and do a good job”,
She continues, assuring herself
That she is defending her gardeners,
Who are, in truth, not the issue.
My guess is she knows those gardeners work for her.
She might have to pay them an additional 25 bucks
To stay longer and cut her plantings back.
She’d rather carry the white man’s burden.
She tells me of other homes that are worse,
Notes how lovely her plants look,
And concludes with the observation:
“Isn’t it all about having lovely greenery”?
How great is the leap,
Having denied you have a choice,
To concluding that if your rights
Burden your neighbor, God has chosen you.
I don’t think they will be coming this week.”
So spoke the lady who lives in the very large corner house,
Where her plants now cover a public sidewalk.
“I think my gardeners are very nice and do a good job”,
She continues, assuring herself
That she is defending her gardeners,
Who are, in truth, not the issue.
My guess is she knows those gardeners work for her.
She might have to pay them an additional 25 bucks
To stay longer and cut her plantings back.
She’d rather carry the white man’s burden.
She tells me of other homes that are worse,
Notes how lovely her plants look,
And concludes with the observation:
“Isn’t it all about having lovely greenery”?
How great is the leap,
Having denied you have a choice,
To concluding that if your rights
Burden your neighbor, God has chosen you.
What’s To Be Done?
We’ve found the source of the Nile.
Now it’s time to locate God’s present position.
After searching the heavens with no success,
Efforts are turning toward a “time” exploration.
One scientist, disdaining conservative religious leaders
And evolutionists,
Believes he can track the Big Kahuna
By going back more than 14 million years.
Eminent space/time hunter, Professor Whatsamatter,
Heads a pack that includes several bail bondsmen,
Stars from 12 TV CSI programs,
And assorted dog tracking teams.
Whatsamatter has noted strange sounds,
Coming through his laboratory antennae.
These could emanate only from something
Earlier then the Big Bang.
Assuming that God was present
Before the creation of space
Whatsamatter expects to locate a sound trail
Left by the Almighty.
After noting the proximity of the
Sound studio for “Stupendous Noise”
A reporter suggested the sound might be coming from next door.
To which Whatsamatter replied “What you say”?
Now it’s time to locate God’s present position.
After searching the heavens with no success,
Efforts are turning toward a “time” exploration.
One scientist, disdaining conservative religious leaders
And evolutionists,
Believes he can track the Big Kahuna
By going back more than 14 million years.
Eminent space/time hunter, Professor Whatsamatter,
Heads a pack that includes several bail bondsmen,
Stars from 12 TV CSI programs,
And assorted dog tracking teams.
Whatsamatter has noted strange sounds,
Coming through his laboratory antennae.
These could emanate only from something
Earlier then the Big Bang.
Assuming that God was present
Before the creation of space
Whatsamatter expects to locate a sound trail
Left by the Almighty.
After noting the proximity of the
Sound studio for “Stupendous Noise”
A reporter suggested the sound might be coming from next door.
To which Whatsamatter replied “What you say”?
Candy
I don't think she paid
For the baby’s treat.
It isn't my store
But it's my system....
And yours.
Who would point her out,
Drop the dime?
Let the clerk demand the candy be returned.
I have no say
If the hedge fund manager
Gets preferential tax treatment,
But here I can matter.
Besides, the billionaire
Did not break the law.
(He might have written it.)
Nice.
Surely the Mom could afford the candy?
$2.25. Everyone can afford 2.25, right??
For the baby’s treat.
It isn't my store
But it's my system....
And yours.
Who would point her out,
Drop the dime?
Let the clerk demand the candy be returned.
I have no say
If the hedge fund manager
Gets preferential tax treatment,
But here I can matter.
Besides, the billionaire
Did not break the law.
(He might have written it.)
Nice.
Surely the Mom could afford the candy?
$2.25. Everyone can afford 2.25, right??
Zionist
That a country for Jews
Should seem desirable
Testifies to both reason
And insanity.
Reason; recognizes
A history of persecution
And thought to mitigate.
Insanity; because anti-Semitism is irrational.
Sixty years later it looks like a set-up.
Only America offered assistance
And that covertly.
Some enemies wanted redemption, others a final solution.
“Here is a place you can be safe”, thought some.
More thought 100 to 1 against.
“Got to like those odds,
Let the Arabs finish them”.
Jews have long since redeemed
Their guilt over victimization.
They now walk straighter
And Israel stands, to the world’s embarrassment.
Should seem desirable
Testifies to both reason
And insanity.
Reason; recognizes
A history of persecution
And thought to mitigate.
Insanity; because anti-Semitism is irrational.
Sixty years later it looks like a set-up.
Only America offered assistance
And that covertly.
Some enemies wanted redemption, others a final solution.
“Here is a place you can be safe”, thought some.
More thought 100 to 1 against.
“Got to like those odds,
Let the Arabs finish them”.
Jews have long since redeemed
Their guilt over victimization.
They now walk straighter
And Israel stands, to the world’s embarrassment.
Rage
She moved her chair into my space.
He turned without signaling,
Costing me a chance to beat the traffic.
This really angers me.
It's been a long time with no philosophical repose
To suggest I'm making any progress.
What drives the need to find fault?
Surely, the blame lies with mother.
By bedtime I don’t recall
All the outrages that marred my day.
But I feel secure in the knowledge
That I haven’t passed into enlightenment yet.
Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow might be the day
When the slow moving, lane blocking, asshole
Does not reach into my third eye
And blacken it with his blatant disregard of my nerves.
Perhaps tomorrow I will overlook
Those fools who insist that life is glorious
And offer spiritual realignment
When the situation calls for disengagement.
Because I carry the Earth on my back,
I can sympathize with Atlas.
It’s a job that doesn’t pay well
But you can’t beat the view.
He turned without signaling,
Costing me a chance to beat the traffic.
This really angers me.
It's been a long time with no philosophical repose
To suggest I'm making any progress.
What drives the need to find fault?
Surely, the blame lies with mother.
By bedtime I don’t recall
All the outrages that marred my day.
But I feel secure in the knowledge
That I haven’t passed into enlightenment yet.
Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow might be the day
When the slow moving, lane blocking, asshole
Does not reach into my third eye
And blacken it with his blatant disregard of my nerves.
Perhaps tomorrow I will overlook
Those fools who insist that life is glorious
And offer spiritual realignment
When the situation calls for disengagement.
Because I carry the Earth on my back,
I can sympathize with Atlas.
It’s a job that doesn’t pay well
But you can’t beat the view.
Mom
Her last good friend was not Jewish.
I’ve a picture of them playing Rummy,
Or at least attempting to play Rummy.
Mom is focused on winning.
Her last best friend is not white.
But the lady understood
That Mom had carried
A relatively benign racism into their friendship.
Mom moved beyond
Those acculturated fears
Long before she died
Veronica was her friend.
If most are victims of their time and place
Mom rose above her comfort level
Choosing “practical”.
Translation: this works for me.
In the minutes before she died,
When asked to wait for her children to come
Ruth gave a small head shake.
But for Veronica she nodded.
Then, settled in Veronica’s arms,
And as a child comforted
By her mother’s embrace,
Left us.
I’ve a picture of them playing Rummy,
Or at least attempting to play Rummy.
Mom is focused on winning.
Her last best friend is not white.
But the lady understood
That Mom had carried
A relatively benign racism into their friendship.
Mom moved beyond
Those acculturated fears
Long before she died
Veronica was her friend.
If most are victims of their time and place
Mom rose above her comfort level
Choosing “practical”.
Translation: this works for me.
In the minutes before she died,
When asked to wait for her children to come
Ruth gave a small head shake.
But for Veronica she nodded.
Then, settled in Veronica’s arms,
And as a child comforted
By her mother’s embrace,
Left us.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Sharansky
It wasn’t only his singing
That kept him from being
President of his class.
He was too short.
Standing at the lectern,
Facing 500 believers,
He did not breath fire,
His was not the night’s cause.
Natan reasoned with his audience.
You may choose humanity and that is good.
You may choose Judaism and that is good.
Either way you will pay a price.
This audience, these 500, wanted something else.
Tell us of the indignities visited upon Israel.
Remind us of the surrounding terror.
Exhort us to demand more U.S. aid.
Not this night.
The Carnivores went home hungry.
Natan did not demand,
He encouraged. I liked him.
That kept him from being
President of his class.
He was too short.
Standing at the lectern,
Facing 500 believers,
He did not breath fire,
His was not the night’s cause.
Natan reasoned with his audience.
You may choose humanity and that is good.
You may choose Judaism and that is good.
Either way you will pay a price.
This audience, these 500, wanted something else.
Tell us of the indignities visited upon Israel.
Remind us of the surrounding terror.
Exhort us to demand more U.S. aid.
Not this night.
The Carnivores went home hungry.
Natan did not demand,
He encouraged. I liked him.
Hanging Out
How did the lizard,
With its ridiculously long tail,
Get itself on a twig in the pond?
Unless gravity were to reverse itself
This six inch long black life form
Was not going to survive the morning.
It appeared to be pondering the situation;
Considering options,
Composing a farewell speech.
When the day began Leo,
(A decent name for a lizard,)
Went searching for insects.
Leo had leapt onto a broken twig
Captured his prize,
And caused the twig to move off the shoreline.
If I were a reporter,
I would need to resist human intervention,
Since it would change the outcome.
But I am Einstein’s intrusion.
My being there was part of the story,
Merely observing changes the result.
Leo might deserve an assist.
His life’s devotion to bug eating
Could have made my sleeping mosquito free.
Yes, this tale has a happy ending,
If your in favor of prolonging
The life of a six inch long, black lizard with a fabulous tail.
With its ridiculously long tail,
Get itself on a twig in the pond?
Unless gravity were to reverse itself
This six inch long black life form
Was not going to survive the morning.
It appeared to be pondering the situation;
Considering options,
Composing a farewell speech.
When the day began Leo,
(A decent name for a lizard,)
Went searching for insects.
Leo had leapt onto a broken twig
Captured his prize,
And caused the twig to move off the shoreline.
If I were a reporter,
I would need to resist human intervention,
Since it would change the outcome.
But I am Einstein’s intrusion.
My being there was part of the story,
Merely observing changes the result.
Leo might deserve an assist.
His life’s devotion to bug eating
Could have made my sleeping mosquito free.
Yes, this tale has a happy ending,
If your in favor of prolonging
The life of a six inch long, black lizard with a fabulous tail.
The Ultimate Optimist
What if you find,
After a life of toil and trouble,
Wins and losses, you are resident in Hell?
There may still be a place for optimism.
Believing you deserve a better location,
It will likely take some time
To reconcile prior beliefs
With your current situation.
I’m convinced, based on nothing,
That the next step will be to plan.
Knowing you are misplaced,
How do you move up, WAY up.
Where are the exit signs?
What good deeds can you do?
Even god can make a mistake,
Look at the almost infallible Pope.
Perhaps a change of name, address,
Or a renunciation of past hiccups
Will get you a ride to the top?
Within the fires still an optimist.
After a life of toil and trouble,
Wins and losses, you are resident in Hell?
There may still be a place for optimism.
Believing you deserve a better location,
It will likely take some time
To reconcile prior beliefs
With your current situation.
I’m convinced, based on nothing,
That the next step will be to plan.
Knowing you are misplaced,
How do you move up, WAY up.
Where are the exit signs?
What good deeds can you do?
Even god can make a mistake,
Look at the almost infallible Pope.
Perhaps a change of name, address,
Or a renunciation of past hiccups
Will get you a ride to the top?
Within the fires still an optimist.
Forgiveness
Finding the depth of his failures,
And personal dishonesty,
Assails me daily.
I will never forget!
He asks for my forgiveness.
But he has not suffered the thousand blows
That I revisit, unsolicited recalls that
Drive knives through my mind.
Yes, we have a history,
Much of it warm, comforting.
Now those memories lay at my feet,
Trampled into the mud of tears.
My wisest option is out.
Time may not be an ally.
Staying, leaves me vulnerable.
I do not, did not deserve this.
Yes, we are not dead,
There are still feelings,
Recollections of love and humor
That strike a responsive cord.
Forgiveness is not fair,
It asks the injured to risk
Further abuse,
And a dangerous uphill climb.
Still, there are tangos to learn
Music to hear,
Friends we share;
And the years have not been unkind.
And personal dishonesty,
Assails me daily.
I will never forget!
He asks for my forgiveness.
But he has not suffered the thousand blows
That I revisit, unsolicited recalls that
Drive knives through my mind.
Yes, we have a history,
Much of it warm, comforting.
Now those memories lay at my feet,
Trampled into the mud of tears.
My wisest option is out.
Time may not be an ally.
Staying, leaves me vulnerable.
I do not, did not deserve this.
Yes, we are not dead,
There are still feelings,
Recollections of love and humor
That strike a responsive cord.
Forgiveness is not fair,
It asks the injured to risk
Further abuse,
And a dangerous uphill climb.
Still, there are tangos to learn
Music to hear,
Friends we share;
And the years have not been unkind.
A Day With Family
Ashes in the ground.
Only one person cried.
Then the small family group
Returned to their lives.
Mom was not resurrected
Morning passed into noon,
Lunch, conversation.
Pleasantries replaced sober reflections.
If there are no typical families
This group raises no objection.
It is devoted to the American dream,
With all it's warts.
No apparent serial killers,
Only one absolute failure.
Several potentially good guys
Who might turn the wheel.
It's the children who give hope.
Innocence is enchanting,
And watching the youngsters play
Would have pleased my pre-ashes Mom.
Only one person cried.
Then the small family group
Returned to their lives.
Mom was not resurrected
Morning passed into noon,
Lunch, conversation.
Pleasantries replaced sober reflections.
If there are no typical families
This group raises no objection.
It is devoted to the American dream,
With all it's warts.
No apparent serial killers,
Only one absolute failure.
Several potentially good guys
Who might turn the wheel.
It's the children who give hope.
Innocence is enchanting,
And watching the youngsters play
Would have pleased my pre-ashes Mom.
The Sandman
The street is a canvas
And his scooper the palette.
He hears “Thee voice”,
Then paints the messages with sand.
Shadow thin, with few teeth remaining,
He dresses in black.
Does most of his work after dark,
Only to see it obliterated by noon.
Not unlike Sisyphus,
Will start a new piece
Before the next sunrise.
His wrist moves confidently
As he “paints” his messages,
“I’’s topped with four leaf clovers,
Occasionally seeking help with his spelling.
I doubt his passion provides a living wage,
Which likely accounts for his bedraggled clothing
And emaciated body,
Neither of which diminish a genuine smile.
Whether today’s effort will involve
Gigantic wishes for honeymooners,
A word to the wise, or a full moon,
Upon completion, they satisfy the artist.
His work invariably asserts
Life as a positive force,
With sufficient humor
To add much value to my morning walk.
And his scooper the palette.
He hears “Thee voice”,
Then paints the messages with sand.
Shadow thin, with few teeth remaining,
He dresses in black.
Does most of his work after dark,
Only to see it obliterated by noon.
Not unlike Sisyphus,
Will start a new piece
Before the next sunrise.
His wrist moves confidently
As he “paints” his messages,
“I’’s topped with four leaf clovers,
Occasionally seeking help with his spelling.
I doubt his passion provides a living wage,
Which likely accounts for his bedraggled clothing
And emaciated body,
Neither of which diminish a genuine smile.
Whether today’s effort will involve
Gigantic wishes for honeymooners,
A word to the wise, or a full moon,
Upon completion, they satisfy the artist.
His work invariably asserts
Life as a positive force,
With sufficient humor
To add much value to my morning walk.
After Midnight
Running up from the Marina
To Pacific Heights is grueling
But possible,
Getting past the closing night is not.
Words move beyond my reach,
I listen to my breath.
The lack of street lights
Suggest home and safety are not at hand
Shadows, broken and bending,
Create a feeling that someone is following
And I must move faster,
Or hide in my closet.
My course takes me through
A cardboard village
That fronts abandoned shops
Like a pre-Potemkin slum.
Fog speaks to me,
A tale of winter, sans snow,
That allows no respite,
Just the cold of the financially undressed.
Doorways crowded with the poor,
Who have formed temporary alliances
That might not last the night,
Bent on liquor induced Hollywood dreams.
Nearing my haven,
Shadows become familiar and safe.
Cold and fog recede.
My cheerful television makes the night certain.
To Pacific Heights is grueling
But possible,
Getting past the closing night is not.
Words move beyond my reach,
I listen to my breath.
The lack of street lights
Suggest home and safety are not at hand
Shadows, broken and bending,
Create a feeling that someone is following
And I must move faster,
Or hide in my closet.
My course takes me through
A cardboard village
That fronts abandoned shops
Like a pre-Potemkin slum.
Fog speaks to me,
A tale of winter, sans snow,
That allows no respite,
Just the cold of the financially undressed.
Doorways crowded with the poor,
Who have formed temporary alliances
That might not last the night,
Bent on liquor induced Hollywood dreams.
Nearing my haven,
Shadows become familiar and safe.
Cold and fog recede.
My cheerful television makes the night certain.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Shock & Awe
Blue, green, and red fireworks
In fantastic shapes and sizes
Burst across the evening sky,
Amazing the little girl who holds her mother’s hand.
A present to the six year old
That permanently resides
In the dream compartment
Of those able to smile.
Accompanied by explosive sounds
That momentarily catch the child's imagination,
Creating a space for uncertainty and fear
Before Mom nods the world safe and fun again.
From the science that brought us
Spears, guns and bombs,
A collateral, incidental byproduct
Of progress, becomes the wonder of the innocent.
She will dream of the colors
In those giant spreading displays
That filled the sky,
But, thankfully, not of the power that launched the wonders.
In fantastic shapes and sizes
Burst across the evening sky,
Amazing the little girl who holds her mother’s hand.
A present to the six year old
That permanently resides
In the dream compartment
Of those able to smile.
Accompanied by explosive sounds
That momentarily catch the child's imagination,
Creating a space for uncertainty and fear
Before Mom nods the world safe and fun again.
From the science that brought us
Spears, guns and bombs,
A collateral, incidental byproduct
Of progress, becomes the wonder of the innocent.
She will dream of the colors
In those giant spreading displays
That filled the sky,
But, thankfully, not of the power that launched the wonders.
God’s Messenger
When I suspect the start of profundity
There is always the Crow to puncture the image.
As the street rally reaches its crescendo
I hear the Crow suggesting “it’s in the game”.
There is no better vehicle
For subduing oversized pride,
Positing an improbable restraint,
Than the sudden screech of a Crow.
For consistency of message,
And implacable directness,
With just a touch of humor,
God reached perfection with the Crow.
Had the Roman general, Gaius Marius, heard,
As he passed through the Forum’s arch,
Not a slave’s warning, but the Crows dismissal,
Moderation would have ruled the triumphant parade.
Not an especially likable fellow, the Crow,
With but one thought to air.
But he knows all is vanity,
And invites your sardonic agreement.
There is always the Crow to puncture the image.
As the street rally reaches its crescendo
I hear the Crow suggesting “it’s in the game”.
There is no better vehicle
For subduing oversized pride,
Positing an improbable restraint,
Than the sudden screech of a Crow.
For consistency of message,
And implacable directness,
With just a touch of humor,
God reached perfection with the Crow.
Had the Roman general, Gaius Marius, heard,
As he passed through the Forum’s arch,
Not a slave’s warning, but the Crows dismissal,
Moderation would have ruled the triumphant parade.
Not an especially likable fellow, the Crow,
With but one thought to air.
But he knows all is vanity,
And invites your sardonic agreement.
Muttering
Next year will be better.
Its part of the plan.
Still, today I will eat dessert first,
In case I’m wrong about next year.
I cannot process all the changes.
I read books, that are not printed,
And engage in civil discussion,
That takes place digitally.
Across from my restaurant table
A child is coloring her picture book,
While my companion explains
Why I need an annuity.
Its hard to get the right perspective.
Most days change looks superficial.
But sometimes it seems we will drop too heavy a burden,
And the earth will grow dark.
If we could just get over ourselves
There might be more time in Paris,
And less time spent measuring time.
Its part of the plan.
Still, today I will eat dessert first,
In case I’m wrong about next year.
I cannot process all the changes.
I read books, that are not printed,
And engage in civil discussion,
That takes place digitally.
Across from my restaurant table
A child is coloring her picture book,
While my companion explains
Why I need an annuity.
Its hard to get the right perspective.
Most days change looks superficial.
But sometimes it seems we will drop too heavy a burden,
And the earth will grow dark.
If we could just get over ourselves
There might be more time in Paris,
And less time spent measuring time.
Tribute
(Witnessed on the flight deck of the Aircraft Carrier Midway, 9/11/10)
After the color guards and the ritual salute,
There is the calling of names.
343 responding firefighters died that day,
It’s nine years, still there is a catch in the naming.
After each name there is the tolling.
A bell, that on another day would summon
A rush to rapidly descent the fire pole,
Today commemorates the loss.
300 of us gathered
On the bow of the flight deck
With flags of every state crackling in tribute
To bear witness.
Memories of that day echo
In the voices of the name readers
Long after the speeches fade
Into a tired salute to heros.
Widows and fatherless teenagers
Burdened with the madness
That cleaved their lives.
Stand tall and hold back tears,
After the color guards and the ritual salute,
There is the calling of names.
343 responding firefighters died that day,
It’s nine years, still there is a catch in the naming.
After each name there is the tolling.
A bell, that on another day would summon
A rush to rapidly descent the fire pole,
Today commemorates the loss.
300 of us gathered
On the bow of the flight deck
With flags of every state crackling in tribute
To bear witness.
Memories of that day echo
In the voices of the name readers
Long after the speeches fade
Into a tired salute to heros.
Widows and fatherless teenagers
Burdened with the madness
That cleaved their lives.
Stand tall and hold back tears,
Piano Music
It allows my hurt feelings
Free range and some bullshit self-pity.
Warping my view of streets
And the sounds of the suffering.
I can’t accept justifications
That suggest it was offered for the “greater good”.
My friend did not steal my purse,
He just wanted his job back.
There is such beauty in emotional pain.
A purity that converts suffering
To an absurd belief in your vision
Of a higher truth.
Music can speak eloquently of loss
Low octave minor key notes rich
With a sense of forlorn,
Slowly, extending to despair.
With luck, tomorrow’s dream
Will replace today’s nightmare,
Reduce the grief
To a smaller melancholy.
Yes, tomorrow’s weather may brighten
My dismal landscape into
A field of hope.
But I cannot leave without absorbing the darkness.
Free range and some bullshit self-pity.
Warping my view of streets
And the sounds of the suffering.
I can’t accept justifications
That suggest it was offered for the “greater good”.
My friend did not steal my purse,
He just wanted his job back.
There is such beauty in emotional pain.
A purity that converts suffering
To an absurd belief in your vision
Of a higher truth.
Music can speak eloquently of loss
Low octave minor key notes rich
With a sense of forlorn,
Slowly, extending to despair.
With luck, tomorrow’s dream
Will replace today’s nightmare,
Reduce the grief
To a smaller melancholy.
Yes, tomorrow’s weather may brighten
My dismal landscape into
A field of hope.
But I cannot leave without absorbing the darkness.
Debbe
If there is pride in place it’s because someone brings it!
To do a job well, day after day, is not easy
To do that job well day after day for 25 years is extraordinary
To do that job well day after day for 25 years while retaining a light touch is magical
To do that job well day after day for 25 years while retaining a light touch in the face of 100 ego-manics convinced that they are entitled to preferential treatment is DEBBE!
To do a job well, day after day, is not easy
To do that job well day after day for 25 years is extraordinary
To do that job well day after day for 25 years while retaining a light touch is magical
To do that job well day after day for 25 years while retaining a light touch in the face of 100 ego-manics convinced that they are entitled to preferential treatment is DEBBE!
Ruth
Her last good friend was not Jewish.
I’ve a picture of them playing Rummy,
Or at least attempting to play Rummy.
Mom is focused on winning.
Her last best friend is not white.
But the lady understood
That Mom had carried
A relatively benign racism into their relationship.
Mom had moved beyond those
Acculturated fears
Long before she died.
Veronica had become her friend.
In the minutes before she died,
Asked to wait for her children
Ruth gave a small head shake.
For Veronica she nodded.
Mom settled in Veronica’s arms
And, as a child comforted
By her mothers embrace,
Left us.
I’ve a picture of them playing Rummy,
Or at least attempting to play Rummy.
Mom is focused on winning.
Her last best friend is not white.
But the lady understood
That Mom had carried
A relatively benign racism into their relationship.
Mom had moved beyond those
Acculturated fears
Long before she died.
Veronica had become her friend.
In the minutes before she died,
Asked to wait for her children
Ruth gave a small head shake.
For Veronica she nodded.
Mom settled in Veronica’s arms
And, as a child comforted
By her mothers embrace,
Left us.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
I Remember Mom
I stood across from PS 153
Holding Mom’s hand.
First day of school, ever! Scary!
She let go and life changed.
35 years later,
When I came to visit,
She was pacing by the kitchen window.
I was coming home late.
On subsequent trips to Florida
There was always a salami sandwich
And a cream soda.
A reminder of what really mattered.
Her 90th birthday party,
Surrounded by family and friends,
Might have been a belated crowning
Of the Queen mother.
I think she saw that day
As the completion of her dreams;
Children, grandchildren safe,
And far from the Depression’s hunger.
Here’s to you Mom,
The “practical” Ruth Greenspan.
No one here is taking piano lessons,
But maybe you taught us something about life.
Holding Mom’s hand.
First day of school, ever! Scary!
She let go and life changed.
35 years later,
When I came to visit,
She was pacing by the kitchen window.
I was coming home late.
On subsequent trips to Florida
There was always a salami sandwich
And a cream soda.
A reminder of what really mattered.
Her 90th birthday party,
Surrounded by family and friends,
Might have been a belated crowning
Of the Queen mother.
I think she saw that day
As the completion of her dreams;
Children, grandchildren safe,
And far from the Depression’s hunger.
Here’s to you Mom,
The “practical” Ruth Greenspan.
No one here is taking piano lessons,
But maybe you taught us something about life.
One Cup Coffee-maker
Some one gave us this other coffee-maker.
It only makes one cup
And sits next to the 8 cup coffee-maker.
Somehow it represents progress.
I feel the earth is moving away,
And I’ve not been invited on the trip.
I’m unsure I would go if invited,
But I desperately want the acceptance.
If someone should stop by
Do I offer her a cup of coffee
Watch her drink,
Unable to pour myself a cup?
I could pour myself the cup
And let my guest watch me.
(Wars have been started
Over smaller insults.)
Of course I could make four cups
In the eight cup coffee-maker,
But that would mean not using
My latest acquisition.
People in the under-developed world
Would not understand the dilemma.
That is probably why they live
In places that do not have electricity.
It only makes one cup
And sits next to the 8 cup coffee-maker.
Somehow it represents progress.
I feel the earth is moving away,
And I’ve not been invited on the trip.
I’m unsure I would go if invited,
But I desperately want the acceptance.
If someone should stop by
Do I offer her a cup of coffee
Watch her drink,
Unable to pour myself a cup?
I could pour myself the cup
And let my guest watch me.
(Wars have been started
Over smaller insults.)
Of course I could make four cups
In the eight cup coffee-maker,
But that would mean not using
My latest acquisition.
People in the under-developed world
Would not understand the dilemma.
That is probably why they live
In places that do not have electricity.
Gone
Hiding in the bedroom closet
Rose tried not to breath,
Fearing her son-in-law, Lou
Might find and rape her.
Over the past two years,
While living with Ruth,
She had reformed her world view,
And would now not leave the house.
Rose had loved Lou,
But now confused him
With the anti-semites in her shtetl
Who had raped Jewish girls.
Ruth had fought to stay in Brooklyn,
Near her mother’s apartment
But now could no longer house Rose,
Who was moving into a fantasy world.
Rather than move to an “old age” home
Rose volunteered
To live in the closet,
And eat less.
The “home”smelled of urine
But Rose did not notice
She wore her nightgown backward
Nor could she identify her family visitors
Such was the families regard for her
That thirty cousins visited Rose.
She had held the family together.
She lingered for two terrible years.
Rose tried not to breath,
Fearing her son-in-law, Lou
Might find and rape her.
Over the past two years,
While living with Ruth,
She had reformed her world view,
And would now not leave the house.
Rose had loved Lou,
But now confused him
With the anti-semites in her shtetl
Who had raped Jewish girls.
Ruth had fought to stay in Brooklyn,
Near her mother’s apartment
But now could no longer house Rose,
Who was moving into a fantasy world.
Rather than move to an “old age” home
Rose volunteered
To live in the closet,
And eat less.
The “home”smelled of urine
But Rose did not notice
She wore her nightgown backward
Nor could she identify her family visitors
Such was the families regard for her
That thirty cousins visited Rose.
She had held the family together.
She lingered for two terrible years.
Frayed Wiring
She hid in the closet
Terrified her son-in law
Was going to rape her.
She stayed very quiet.
Her reality had moved,
And now included revisiting nightmares
First experienced in a hamlet
Outside Vilnius.
Was she attacked as a child?
Possibly. Memories
Had become translucence,
Which yesterday was yesterday?
Decisions were being made
But no one asked her.
They would decide her fate,
Ruth and Lou.
Rose knew she was not well.
She begged, saying she would eat less,
Offer more help with the meals;
Anything ... only not to be taken away.
Away to a place that kept old people,
To share a room with a stranger.
You didn’t return from such places.
Lou was a good man, he would not do it.
Jack is dead, Ruth had told her.
Jack had always smoked.
Fifty years in the apartment
Where the hall light always burned.
Terrified her son-in law
Was going to rape her.
She stayed very quiet.
Her reality had moved,
And now included revisiting nightmares
First experienced in a hamlet
Outside Vilnius.
Was she attacked as a child?
Possibly. Memories
Had become translucence,
Which yesterday was yesterday?
Decisions were being made
But no one asked her.
They would decide her fate,
Ruth and Lou.
Rose knew she was not well.
She begged, saying she would eat less,
Offer more help with the meals;
Anything ... only not to be taken away.
Away to a place that kept old people,
To share a room with a stranger.
You didn’t return from such places.
Lou was a good man, he would not do it.
Jack is dead, Ruth had told her.
Jack had always smoked.
Fifty years in the apartment
Where the hall light always burned.
There’s Too Much on My Plate
It’s time to drop down,
Don my safety helmet,
Turn off the electronics,
And see what is left of the tea party.
It seems the Queen has issued edicts
Calling for the beheading of short people,
And the recall of all the even-numbered years.
Losing all those years requires longer odd-numbered ones.
This process is daunting.
She has also recalled all years before 4,000 BC.
All evidence showing life before that date,
Has been pronounced “wrong” and “blast-famous”.
“I want my kingdom back” bellows the queen.
Her consort, once the ruler of a large auto manufacturer,
Booms “off with his head”, “off with his head”.
Then the couple begins a tango.
I climb back to the land of pins.
Pins that show my loyalty
To god, country, job, club and party.
My life’s resume on a lapel.
I have work to do,
Horses to ride & villains to catch.
Emails to write, programs to watch,
And phone commercials that demand my attention.
Alice’s place offered no refuge,
And earth’s surface is infested with noise makers.
I think I’ll look for an unoccupied mountain top
Where I can just listen to “The Performer Previously Called Prince”.
Don my safety helmet,
Turn off the electronics,
And see what is left of the tea party.
It seems the Queen has issued edicts
Calling for the beheading of short people,
And the recall of all the even-numbered years.
Losing all those years requires longer odd-numbered ones.
This process is daunting.
She has also recalled all years before 4,000 BC.
All evidence showing life before that date,
Has been pronounced “wrong” and “blast-famous”.
“I want my kingdom back” bellows the queen.
Her consort, once the ruler of a large auto manufacturer,
Booms “off with his head”, “off with his head”.
Then the couple begins a tango.
I climb back to the land of pins.
Pins that show my loyalty
To god, country, job, club and party.
My life’s resume on a lapel.
I have work to do,
Horses to ride & villains to catch.
Emails to write, programs to watch,
And phone commercials that demand my attention.
Alice’s place offered no refuge,
And earth’s surface is infested with noise makers.
I think I’ll look for an unoccupied mountain top
Where I can just listen to “The Performer Previously Called Prince”.
Taking Offense
How could he have treated me so badly
Or was I looking at half the cards?
I think to manifest maturity
Requires stopping at "how".
Changing the other guy
Is so-o-o rewarding
But with little shelf life
And no meaningful expectation.
I assume the posture of an adult.
It does not become me,
Given my insistence
On asking others to do the lifting.
The pleasure of being right
Outweighs the desire to move forward.
Of course my book of hurts and outrages
Does not go back 500 years...yet.
You have not acknowledged my greeting,
Or laughed at my jokes.
You have denied my 2000 year old land claim.
In the next life you will get over this.
Or was I looking at half the cards?
I think to manifest maturity
Requires stopping at "how".
Changing the other guy
Is so-o-o rewarding
But with little shelf life
And no meaningful expectation.
I assume the posture of an adult.
It does not become me,
Given my insistence
On asking others to do the lifting.
The pleasure of being right
Outweighs the desire to move forward.
Of course my book of hurts and outrages
Does not go back 500 years...yet.
You have not acknowledged my greeting,
Or laughed at my jokes.
You have denied my 2000 year old land claim.
In the next life you will get over this.
Charity
Poor, but employed
Able to pay his rent,
Through an overextended credit card,
Alex took out a 5.
He didn’t have a 1,
But wanted to give the panhandler something.
From charity
Or guilt?
Alex was close enough
To smell the Dago-Red.
Pre-noon and the poor bastard
Was gone.
Grasping the proffered five,
It took a moment
Before he recognized Lincoln.
When, when was the last Lincoln?
Alex watched the man’s face
Move from confusion to sobriety,
As the moment of surprise
Morphed into clarity.
The man dropped to his knees shaking.
Through tears
H clasped Alex’s hand
And kissed it.
Alex could not watch
Without being reduced to an epiphany
Wherein he saw the drunk
Recalling a time before.
Not wanting to dirty his clean shirt,
Yet feeling a compulsion to embrace the desperate creature,
Alex wrapped himself in his own arms
And wept.
Able to pay his rent,
Through an overextended credit card,
Alex took out a 5.
He didn’t have a 1,
But wanted to give the panhandler something.
From charity
Or guilt?
Alex was close enough
To smell the Dago-Red.
Pre-noon and the poor bastard
Was gone.
Grasping the proffered five,
It took a moment
Before he recognized Lincoln.
When, when was the last Lincoln?
Alex watched the man’s face
Move from confusion to sobriety,
As the moment of surprise
Morphed into clarity.
The man dropped to his knees shaking.
Through tears
H clasped Alex’s hand
And kissed it.
Alex could not watch
Without being reduced to an epiphany
Wherein he saw the drunk
Recalling a time before.
Not wanting to dirty his clean shirt,
Yet feeling a compulsion to embrace the desperate creature,
Alex wrapped himself in his own arms
And wept.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Survival
I’m alive when I respond to foolishness.
I doubt I’ll make much of a difference
But,the idea that I can still be shocked
By a breathtaking lie, adds to my day.
A friend, having lost his mother,
Talks about the meaningless of life.
Tomorrow he may hear a truth
So outrageously distorted, as to awaken his passions.
Why does Bill Maher tell us Madoff is a Jew?
Is there a bad seed here?
Maybe one of the Elders of Zion
Is making mayhem?
Today is sunny and warm.
My anxieties are in remission.
I will not read the obits,
Maybe no one died.
I doubt I’ll make much of a difference
But,the idea that I can still be shocked
By a breathtaking lie, adds to my day.
A friend, having lost his mother,
Talks about the meaningless of life.
Tomorrow he may hear a truth
So outrageously distorted, as to awaken his passions.
Why does Bill Maher tell us Madoff is a Jew?
Is there a bad seed here?
Maybe one of the Elders of Zion
Is making mayhem?
Today is sunny and warm.
My anxieties are in remission.
I will not read the obits,
Maybe no one died.
Footprint
It wont wash away,
Not this one.
It has reformed the landscape,
Obliterated ancestors and peers.
In a world where the only constant is change,
Annihilation and rebirth have visited
More than once,
We are vouchsafed no special exemption.
I do not wish to argue for or against my species.
That we may be the most impactful
Of creatures to have visited this place
Is a sophomoric argument leading nowhere.
Our conceits forestall any possible
Realignment of our priorities.
As I climb the neighboring hills
I am saddened by the price paid for the deck chairs.
Not this one.
It has reformed the landscape,
Obliterated ancestors and peers.
In a world where the only constant is change,
Annihilation and rebirth have visited
More than once,
We are vouchsafed no special exemption.
I do not wish to argue for or against my species.
That we may be the most impactful
Of creatures to have visited this place
Is a sophomoric argument leading nowhere.
Our conceits forestall any possible
Realignment of our priorities.
As I climb the neighboring hills
I am saddened by the price paid for the deck chairs.
Quiet
We quiet the boats motor,
Drift on the water’s acquiescence.
Silhouettes of the shore’s presence
Waver and reform, reach for my consciousness.
Soon enough the rising sun
Will direct others to adventures
That forestall their sharing this frozen moment.
It will last until I reach to explain.
It is strong beyond words
This opening to bliss.
The sky calls down, and angels support
An impossible myth:
Reality is redrawn as spiritual,
With no form by which Man is tempted
To search for knowledge.
Leaving only quiet.
Drift on the water’s acquiescence.
Silhouettes of the shore’s presence
Waver and reform, reach for my consciousness.
Soon enough the rising sun
Will direct others to adventures
That forestall their sharing this frozen moment.
It will last until I reach to explain.
It is strong beyond words
This opening to bliss.
The sky calls down, and angels support
An impossible myth:
Reality is redrawn as spiritual,
With no form by which Man is tempted
To search for knowledge.
Leaving only quiet.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Code
There is a rhythm to a count.
Some get it instantly,
Hear the numbers and wait,
Trailing smoothly, writing the recall.
When Morse code was communication,
Lives depended on getting it right;
“Incoming” besieged your brain
While you concentrated on the flow.
“Say again” was your common
Response to an urgent message.
Dots and dashes struggled
With the desire to run and hide.
Before the first transmission,
Forty pound radio gear
Had made you a slow moving target,
And a terrified soldier
I guess: half of the Korean vets
Who worked radio, cracked,
And spent months or years
In quiet places, trying to forget.
I order pizza on the phone
From a girl who has the rhythm.
She takes the credit card number,
With just an “um”, telling me she got the last group.
Most people repeat each number immediately,
Thereby destroying any flow to the transmission.
They don’t feel the rhythm.
It’s an art, but who cares?
Some get it instantly,
Hear the numbers and wait,
Trailing smoothly, writing the recall.
When Morse code was communication,
Lives depended on getting it right;
“Incoming” besieged your brain
While you concentrated on the flow.
“Say again” was your common
Response to an urgent message.
Dots and dashes struggled
With the desire to run and hide.
Before the first transmission,
Forty pound radio gear
Had made you a slow moving target,
And a terrified soldier
I guess: half of the Korean vets
Who worked radio, cracked,
And spent months or years
In quiet places, trying to forget.
I order pizza on the phone
From a girl who has the rhythm.
She takes the credit card number,
With just an “um”, telling me she got the last group.
Most people repeat each number immediately,
Thereby destroying any flow to the transmission.
They don’t feel the rhythm.
It’s an art, but who cares?
No Laugh lines
All nineteen were Muslims.
To forget is to “aid the terrorists”.
No mosque at ground zero,
This hollowed ground.
Two blocks away is too close.
Toronto is too close.
Breathing is too close.
We will not “aid the terrorists”.
Fear was and remains the common presence.
There was a moment,
When the twin towers fell upon themselves,
And all things were possible.
Too soon, too very very soon, speeches and pledges
Consumed the air,
Leaving no space for humanity to seed,
And we returned to our tribes.
No traces remain of the common cause
That rose when the buildings fell.
If there is an order to evolution
Stepping down has the advantage of gravity.
To forget is to “aid the terrorists”.
No mosque at ground zero,
This hollowed ground.
Two blocks away is too close.
Toronto is too close.
Breathing is too close.
We will not “aid the terrorists”.
Fear was and remains the common presence.
There was a moment,
When the twin towers fell upon themselves,
And all things were possible.
Too soon, too very very soon, speeches and pledges
Consumed the air,
Leaving no space for humanity to seed,
And we returned to our tribes.
No traces remain of the common cause
That rose when the buildings fell.
If there is an order to evolution
Stepping down has the advantage of gravity.
Sunset
Arnold’s wife, Doris, died on Saturday
After sixty-two years of courtship and love,
Respect, children, pain, hope
And the daily happenings that make a life.
Arnold may have been a bit premature
Asking Doris, on their first date,
If she would marry.
Arnold was in love.
We all wish for a soft ending,
One free of incremental loss,
Burdens delivered,
Unwanted, debilitating.
Few of us will be that fortunate,
But fewer still will have
The great good fortune
Of having a Doris as life’s companion.
After sixty-two years of courtship and love,
Respect, children, pain, hope
And the daily happenings that make a life.
Arnold may have been a bit premature
Asking Doris, on their first date,
If she would marry.
Arnold was in love.
We all wish for a soft ending,
One free of incremental loss,
Burdens delivered,
Unwanted, debilitating.
Few of us will be that fortunate,
But fewer still will have
The great good fortune
Of having a Doris as life’s companion.
On this July 4
A retired Triathlete told me
That participating in the parade was very special.
Other club members were even more effusive,
Calling it a “great day”.
Marilyn worried about our
Position in the parade.
Sam’s concern was excessive sun.
Ann wore a look of fierce determination.
Above all, the July 4 parade meant
Family, friends, smiles,
And a wish to freeze the childish
Pleasure of bare feet in the green, green grass.
As we ambled by the viewing stands
I offered a metronome of
“Happy Fourth!”
To folks whose eyes met mine.
Glad it’s over.
We congratulated one another.
Time enough for the postmortem
And plans for next July 4.
That participating in the parade was very special.
Other club members were even more effusive,
Calling it a “great day”.
Marilyn worried about our
Position in the parade.
Sam’s concern was excessive sun.
Ann wore a look of fierce determination.
Above all, the July 4 parade meant
Family, friends, smiles,
And a wish to freeze the childish
Pleasure of bare feet in the green, green grass.
As we ambled by the viewing stands
I offered a metronome of
“Happy Fourth!”
To folks whose eyes met mine.
Glad it’s over.
We congratulated one another.
Time enough for the postmortem
And plans for next July 4.
Once Upon a Time
My neighbors younger daughter, Sofia,
Must do terrible things to small animals.
How else to explain her consistently
Sanguine attitude and bright smile.
No doubt Barbara, her mom,
Has contributed time and genes to this child.
Indeed her mom’s enthusiasm for life,
Is writ large in Sofia’s walk.
Unapologetic, she moves
To meet me with no trace of uncertainty.
Nor, does she assume an attitude
That creates pedigrees, or suggests a challenge.
With dramatic overtones, she tells me of her day,
Knowing I will listen.
This child, who will not remain
A young girl much longer.
I sigh, thinking of her inevitable descent
Into the temporarily diminished,
Quasi-functional state
Of teenager.
Must do terrible things to small animals.
How else to explain her consistently
Sanguine attitude and bright smile.
No doubt Barbara, her mom,
Has contributed time and genes to this child.
Indeed her mom’s enthusiasm for life,
Is writ large in Sofia’s walk.
Unapologetic, she moves
To meet me with no trace of uncertainty.
Nor, does she assume an attitude
That creates pedigrees, or suggests a challenge.
With dramatic overtones, she tells me of her day,
Knowing I will listen.
This child, who will not remain
A young girl much longer.
I sigh, thinking of her inevitable descent
Into the temporarily diminished,
Quasi-functional state
Of teenager.
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