Silence

How to best fill the silence?

Can you make a triumphal sound?

Are you capable of expressing grief?

Have you a place for silence?

In meditation, there is such a place,

Not often reached by infrequent journeyers, such as I,

Who ask too little of the silence,

Where nothing and everything are the same.

I have been there twice... maybe.

Once, when time ceased and nothing took its place.

Once when morphine, prescribed for pain,

Carried me to forever, and all knowledge was replaced by light.

And the light was.

It carried no heat and illuminated no object.

The universe became easily understood and meaningless.

Pain and words were obviated.

A complete lack of emotion was present,

While an absurd awareness of well-being consumed me,

Flooding the enormity of all that might be.

And the silence pervaded and comforted.

Renaissance Men

I knew a man who paid $50,000

For instructions on being charming.

He had the money:

He never finished high-school.

Blaming his Dad was getting tepid.

Nothing blocked his way

To diplomas and degrees,

Nothing but his image.

He made it up the hard way.

Father put him to work at sixteen.

Who needs an education?

He hates his old man, but is stuck with him until death.

My ex bridge partner, Eric, spent 20 years

Making corporate execs

Look like they understood the game.

It was cool for years... until

Eric started pointing out terrible decision making,

In a most insufferable manner.

Clients became unhappy.

One tried to strangle Eric.

Eric quit his gig. Too dangerous.

Less Skin In the Game

Before, long before, I knew that God

Hadn't survived the storm,

My child's sense of justice

Held firm to an ordered universe.

Now, as I witness a baby's

Wide-eyed wonder at wind, dogs, and chocolate ,

I can believe that she will follow

The path that I treaded.

Like me, she will, for a time,

Avoid hunger, cold, and an awareness of indifference.

Unlike her grandfather, she may bear witness

To the increasing aloneness that seems inevitable.

With improved linguistics the need to search

Through the awkward, the human desire to please

Will be reduced to prescribed communications

That infallibly capture the objective, without touching skin.

My Car Has A Dent

I shouldn’t care.

Why has my history of utter indifference 

To the state of repair of my shoes

Been usurped by a concern for a dent in my car?

It’s 12 years old, has lots of scratches and works.

Christ, it’s hard to notice the little cave-in!

I’m far too old to give up the pretense

Of not caring about pretension.

Tomorrow someone will look at the damn cavity

And give me a price to repair.

Above $400 I’ll live with the inclination,

Below that number comes hypocrisy. 

Why get the price?

There should be nothing to gain  

From repairing the damage,

Unless .... 

Beyond a certain age, where maturity and senility meet,

There ought to be a get-out-of jail-free card.

One raising the other not so much

Where not caring shows signs of wisdom.

If that place and that card exist

I could not stumble over such trivia,

But if I fall it must mark a low point

Where waste in all forms suffocates bravado.

What He Said, What He Meant.

It was an expression of deep regret.

It was self-glorification hidden 

Under a cover of self-flagellation.

It was both.

I heard the latter, and ignored the former...

Until I listened, 

Really listen to another explanation,

And allowed for another answer.

The revelation brought a smile,

And a humbling possibility 

To the center of my comfort zone.

I was not beyond change.

Yes, I could allow 

Deep anger,  concurrent regret, 

And grandiose images to cohabit, 

Without crying foul.

I was looking at the other

And exploring what was possible.,

Concluding that metamorphosis 

Knew few limitations.

He might be very different than I supposed.

We might agree

If I could move away, just a little to the right,

And find a patch of sunlight green.

Was there much at risk?

Would it be awkward?

Might I lose face or spirit?

But wasn’t it worth a shot?

I Am Old

My electro-cardiologist nod said “old”.

“Over 75 we add a check-mark to your score,

Making it more preferable you take this medication.”

He never mouthed “old”, but I’m terribly clever.. I got it!

Half of my teeth are store bought,

And if my head isn’t growing

Then my hairline is shrinking.

But my reflexes are stable... I don’t have any.

I do believe I’m gaining wisdom.

My profound nod carries a sagacious pause,

And I take longer to pass judgment...

Probably a result of  hearing loss.

After checking on the status of my siblings,

(There has never been more than one)

It appears I am next in line for the Big Sleep.

I’m more inclined to daily practice in this regard.

None of the above should suggest I don’t keep up.

I use a nasal electric razor,

And I continue to drive like a New Yorker,

Which keeps my brother-in-law slightly religious.

My long range plan is to be healthy

For 150 years, and I’m halfway there.

Of course I avoid most fried foods,

And walk “jaunty-jolly” every day.

Family

Family                

No one here is wanted by the police.

Everyone appears healthy,

And almost all can discuss

Movies and off-channel TV networks.

I walk the pier at Imperial Beach,

Where fishermen line both railings and

Occasionally land small sardines.

Only then can I imagine eternal sufferance.

Evan, my emaciated grandson,

Eats fries at the grill, protecting his paper plate

With an encircling arm.

At four foot ten, he best protect his food.

I’m the only current resident that thought

Harry Potter and “The Deathly Hallows”

Was a dreadful movie;

Two hours of water pistol fights.

All nine family visitors leave this week.

I shan’t make predictions for the next generation.

Look what a lousy job we’ve done.

Did I tell you, all had a very good time.

Sisyphean

Was there poison at insemination?

Was nature’s plan for this child corrupted

Beyond repair?

Or was it God’s odds-maker at work?

Each failure lamented and attributed elsewhere,

Crashing down the mountain with hope near dead...again.

No more, I have nothing left.

My heart must grow strong and resist pleas.

Yet, a muffled small gesture, a bowed head,

And again I lean into a preordained task.

The child, no longer a child,

This time will stand, this time...

Vows are not enough.

Stiff chins are made for presentation

And require no action.

Self preservation is not always transparent.

Taking Names

Questions on my computer screen frighten me:

Where was my father born?

Confirm my youngest son’s address.

Ninety seconds to answer or I’m locked out.

My health plan provider says

They don’t create the questions.

The FCC supplies the answers,

So that an unrelated private company can confirm my authenticity.

How did they know my relationship to Jay or Lou?

I don’t remember my third grade teacher’s name,

But I expect “they” do.

As I write and publish poems, are my thoughts decoded and digitalized?

Can “they” locate a first cousin long out of sight?

Will I get a bill for a window I broke in Junior High,

Replete with sixty-five years of interest charges?

Are my failures, large and small, open for perusal?

Evolution excludes no one, and no thing.

If knowledge is power, will not the most sentient

Lose sway and cede the conducting of human affairs

To a more rational and learned probability device?

That Uppity Nigger

Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It's the one and only thing you have to offer.

That Uppity Nigger                   

Louise said "I hat that Obama,

He has ruined my country!

Obama said I didn't build my business alone"!

I think she meant "I hate that uppity nigger".

I remember the day he was elected,

And how proud I was to be a citizen of the United States.

Other countries may have elected women,

But no white country had ever elected a black man.

There may be little reason to cry foul.

In national elections there are few rules.

I just can't fathom "hating" this guy,

Without inserting the "N" word.