Prose & Poetry 2021

Dark Blessing

This morning at 6:15

the morning after 

the winter solstice 

of this unbecoming 

wayward year

the anemic dawn reveals

a murder of crows

swaying

in the skeletal embrace

of the tree outside my window

like an improbable set of

anti-Christmas ornaments

all pointing the same direction

They look indifferent

surly and tough

but under their black armor

they’re just beating hearts

hidden in fluff.

Hulking

carelessly full of themselves

they drink the wet wind

and confabulate

in silent agreement

as they wait 

for the sunrise to whisper 

“It’s time!”

Hungry to keep them there

I watch them

the way I used to watch 

my children

as they walked away from me

down the hill to school

and if tomorrow 

these dark visitors return 

I will marvel and rejoice 

the same way I did back then

when my children 

re-materialized

each afternoon…

At last the reluctant sun 

peers 

over the rim of the world

to bless one more day 

of this bleak

black moon year

and one by one 

then one by many

the crows lumber up 

and out

and away

into the lavender sky

to deposit the boon

of their uncouth presence

across the land

Crows understand 

that because of their blackness

they will be targeted

but who gives a caw?

Crows are outside the law.

And anyway 

they’re in on the Plan

having once

long ago

agreed to be 

the accomplices

of Accident and Destiny

But crows are also

social beings

as I saw this morning

watching them flap

from branch to branch

crow to crow,

“Mornin’, how ya doin’?

Any news?”

Seems to me

we could learn a thing or two 

from the crows -

like how to be cool

and find our place

in the whole 

and how to say hello

and wish each other well

at break of day

and at the knell of night

Maybe then

we’d set each day going 

in a more interesting direction

and when darkness fell

we’d have sweeter stories 

to tell.

I had my story complete

I had my story

assembled, complete

all its parts lined up -

my whole identity 

my ship through time

And I stood at the helm

while Death danced 

on the brink

and held him at bay

by tossing him all

the agonies of loss

I feared:

all the imaginary  deaths 

my loves and I had died

so many million

million times

Brazenly I jeered

at His Grotesquerie

daring myself

to scare him away

but on he came

anyway

smashing all 

my favorite dreams

Just recently

a friend's child died

sailing his Toyota

seat-belt-free

through the empty air

and nothing his family 

could do or say

would make that horror

go away

So I ask and pray

for my friend 

and her careless 

sorry son

and for myself and all my own

and all who have lost

and will lose

and lose

and lose

until the end of time

I smile my soul numb

with optimist cheer

and when I still fear

to ride 

the wild day

I try the other way

mourning and weeping 

moaning, lamenting

and keening

but still

nothing will fill

the harrowing void

At last I go and find

my wisest friend 

River

and sit in silence

by his side

to watch the wavelets 

come and go

and all the boats and people

so valiantly pretending 

Death is not so

And all I know

is that the world is this way

and nothing I can do or say 

will change that reality 

in any way.

So I do 

the only thing I can:

I accept this whole dire

complex life entire,

complete with its two 

clasped hands

of Joy and Grief

And there 

In my helplessness

I find my humblest friends:

a gentleness and peace

to walk beside me

in my grief

and Faith

that day will follow night

even when we cannot 

yet see the light.

The Great 21st Century Poemic 

It struck one day

out of the blue, 

cropping up all at once

in random spots

all across the planet

The first known cases

were a small boy

in Lincoln, Nebraska,

whom his mother found

one morning

reciting strange

and beautiful words

a small smile

on his small face

and

a grandmother

in Melbourne, Australia,

who was caught

that very same day

wandering the aisles

of a department store

reciting verses

from the Tang Dynasty

After that

the Poemic spread

lickety split

leaping like lightning

across whole continents 

and oceans

In London 

a mother of six woke up

spouting Tennyson

and in no time 

her entire family was babbling

in iambic pentameter

In Buenos Aires a family

was stricken

with the odes of Pindar

in the original 

ancient Greek

In Beijing

a whole neighborhood

was infested 

with Billy Collins

And so it went.

How the Poemic was able

to spread itself 

so far and wide

so fast

no one knew

At first 

it was thought to be passed

simply through the spoken word

but soon 

infectious particles

were discovered

hitching rides on sound waves,

in rays of sunlight

and even nestled

in random thoughts

Scientists also knew

that however it flew

it was always spewing out 

more and more spores

that would land

take hold

and grow 

anywhere

It was only 

a matter of time

before the entire economy

of the world

had settled

into a deathly peaceful lull.

In the factories

no one stood on the assembly lines

In the banks 

no one begged for loans

and no one doled them out

In the schools

no one taught the state curriculum

and no one was bored

Day after day

everyone

everywhere

simply dreamt the time away

to the murmured

declamation

of immortal poetry

both ancient

and new

Everyone assumed

that soon

the infection

would burn itself out

and things would go back

to normal

But instead

the Poemic only settled in

with a happy gurgle

sinking its teeth

deep into the tender underbelly

of the human genome 

And so it went

for days

and weeks

and months

and years…

Suffice it to say

that to this day

no known victim

has ever recovered

This is perhaps

a loss for History

but all things considered

no one

seems to be 

complaining

Because

after the first onslaught

things began to change

in quite unobjectionable ways

People began to go about their days

speaking in poetry

and fixing things

and before long

no one was going hungry

no one was left out in the cold

no one sick was left uncared for

no one old was forgotten

no one sad was ignored

and no one anywhere

was afraid

of dying lonely

and alone

Instead

people sang

while they made soup 

and someone

was always baking cookies

Farmers smiled

at their cows

and hummed 

while they fertilized their fields

Scientists 

stopped scorning testimonies

of life after death

Physicians healed

by laying on of hands

Chemists formulated

harmless potions

that dissolved pain

Teachers

led children into the fields

to study bugs and flowers

and wade in streams

and catch pollywogs

Young people studied 

what they loved

and got paid 

in poems

That was how it happened

that people stopped hurting each other

and simply did

what needed to be done,

and when the time came for rest

they sat together on porches

and admired the way

the dust motes danced

in rays of the sun

And little by little

in every place

every last member 

of the human race

began to wake up each day 

with a smile on their face

happy and peaceful

in every way

for no rational reason at all. 

La gran poémica del siglo XXI

Apareció un día

inesperadamente,

surgiendo como un todo

en distintos lugares

por todo el planeta

Los primeros casos conocidos

fueron un niño pequeño

en Lincoln, Nebraska,

a quien su madre encontró

una mañana

recitando extrañas

y hermosas palabras

con una pequeña sonrisa

en su carita

y una abuela

en Melbourne, Australia,

quien fue atrapada

ese mismo dia

vagando por los pasillos

de una tienda departamental

recitando versos

de la dinastía Tang

Después

la propagación poémica

seguramente se expandió

saltando como un rayo

en continentes enteros

y océanos

En Londres

una madre de seis se despertó

escupiendo Tennyson

y en muy poco tiempo

toda su familia estaba balbuceando

en pentámetro yámbico

En Buenos Aires una familia

fue golpeada

con las odas de Píndaro

en el original

de la Grecia antigua

En Beijing

todo un barrio

estaba infestado

con Billy Collins

Y así sucedió.

Cómo pudo la poémica

extenderse

tan lejos, tan ancho 

y tan rápido

nadie supo

Al principio

se pensaba 

que era transmitido simplemente 

a través de la palabra

pero pronto

partículas infecciosas

fueron descubiertas

montandose en ondas sonoras,

en rayos de sol

e incluso acurrucados

en pensamientos dispares

Los científicos también sabían

que a pesar de volar

siempre estaba produciendo

más y más esporas

que aterrizaban

se expandian

y crecian

en cualquier lugar

Era sólo

cuestión de tiempo

antes que toda la economía

del mundo

se había instalado

en una tregua mortalmente pacífica.

En las fábricas

nadie se detuvo en las líneas de montaje

en los bancos

nadie pidió préstamos

y nadie los repartió

En las escuelas

nadie enseñó el plan de estudios estatal

y nadie estaba aburrido

Día tras día

todo el mundo

en todas partes

simplemente soñaba el tiempo

a la murmurada

declamación

de poesía inmortal

antigua

y nueva

Todos asumieron

que la infección

pronto

desaparecería

y las cosas volverían

a la normalidad

Pero en vez

la poémica se instaló

con un feliz gorjeo 

hundiendo sus dientes

profundamente en el tierno vientre

del genoma humano

y asi sucedió

por dias

y semanas

y meses

y años ...

Basta decir

que hasta el día de hoy

ninguna víctima conocida

se ha recuperado

Esto es quizás

una pérdida histórica

pero considerando todas las cosas

nadie

parece estar

quejandose

Porque

después del primer ataque

las cosas empezaron a cambiar

de manera bastante inobjetable

La gente empezó a su rutina diaria

hablando en poesía

y arreglando cosas

y en poco tiempo

nadie pasaba hambre

nadie se quedó afuera en el frío

nadie se enfermó y se quedó sin cuidado

nadie de edad fue olvidado

nadie triste fue ignorado

y nadie en ningún lugar

tenía miedo

de morir solo

y solitario

En cambio

la gente cantaba

mientras cocinaban

y alguien

siempre estaba horneando galletas

Los agricultores sonrieron

a sus vacas

y tarareaban canciones

mientras fertilizaban sus campos

Científicos

dejaron de despreciar los testimonios

de la vida después de la muerte

Los médicos sanaron

por la imposición de manos

Los químicos formularon

pociones inofensivas

que disuelven el dolor

Profesores

llevaron los niños a los campos

a estudiar insectos y flores

y a vadear arroyos

y capturar sapos

Los jóvenes estudiaron

lo que más deseaban

y fueron remunerados

con poemas

Así fue como sucedió

que la gente dejó de hacerse daño

y simplemente hizo

lo que se necesitaba hacer,

y cuando llegó el momento del descanso

se sentaron juntos en los porches

a admirar la forma que

las partículas de polvo bailaban

en los rayos del sol

Y poco a poco

en cada lugar

hasta el último miembro

de la raza humana

comenzó a despertar cada día

con una sonrisa en su rostro

feliz y pacífico

en todos los sentidos

sin ninguna razón especial.