Prose & Poetry 2021
Dear Death
When Life gave us
all her gifts, one of them
was you, dear Death,
marionette dangling
from the hands
of God
All my life
I've watched you
dance around me
prancing and glaring
showing your
several fangs
...like a six year old
with a missing tooth
eyes red
and saucer wide
from scaring yourself
in the mirror
so many times
And you are indeed
ghastly, and so very skilled
at playing tag
so I run from you
screaming,
and fall for all your lies
But deep down I know
that behind your disguise
you're just
a simple guy
playing your part
with the best of hearts
And when the play is done
you'll sigh and tell me,
"Honey, you were great!"
and we'll leave the theater
side by side
and walk out blinking
into the Light.
Asking for a World in Sorrow
When we open our hearts
to what we most fear
we grow strong
and valiant and sweet
and the light pours into us
from the unknowable
home of joy
Then we can ask
for this agonized world
and hold her in our stillness
as she holds us in her sorrow
and there is no need
for escape.
May 2020
Autobiography in a nutshell
I’ve loved my life
and feared it too
but I’ve loved it more
so it would seem
or I would not
still be here
talking to you
My children
I adored
and there was nothing
i would not do
for them
but let them go
and so they fled
I filled my empty nest
with poems
cuddly creatures
who keep me busy
night and day
having my life
their way
Multicolored
and full of dreams
they multiply
and all take wing
each and every one
heading directly
into the sun
Where they swear
to play havoc
with the illusion of death
but all burn up
til nothing is left
but the peace
that passeth
understanding.
Blessings
I know
all too well
that living often seems
to bring nothing
but grief.
Nevertheless
on this extraordinary day
I give thanks,
and thanks, and more thanks
because somehow
for no reason at all
I have suddenly
been filled
with Light.
Light
from who knows where
or how -
all I know is
Light is in me
IS me
as I am it -
full of joy.
So
even though
the future still looms
with all its heartbreaking
life-shattering probabilities
still
despite all rationality
today I am happy.
This morning when I awoke
legions of crows
made me smile
flying in volleys past my window
on their way to fulfill
the urgent need for crows
everywhere.
And I was glad
performing my
morning ablutions
imbibing my pills and potions
kissing my love
sending him out the door
with blessings,
and watching the day
begin to unfold
its million possibilities...
How can this be,
such joy
in a world of calamity?
I think it is just
that I live surrounded by royalty -
all my friends and family,
and everyone I meet
are kings and queens, joyous beings
full of such dignity
and pure goodness
that it makes me weep.
You and I and they,
we share all things.
We are the Light,
the Life,
the Meaning of the Universe.
How can I stop giving thanks
and blessing everyone
and everything?
This thing of blessing -
some recoil at the word
believing it reveals
allegiance to a certain sect
they see as evil
or at least embarrassing -
but I say the act of blessing
has nothing to do
with dead institutions
but is simply
the most natural response
to being alive.
Everyone I meet
and everything I see
deserves a blessing,
needs a blessing,
and blesses me,
who also deserve
and need
all the blessings
I can get.
A blessing is protection,
is joy,
is caring,
is recognition,
is bottomless, endless gratitude.
May this joy of blessing
flood outward from our hearts,
washing clean the Earth,
radiating out beyond the farthest star,
filling all the Universe
with Light.
Blessed Be All Things
in this and every Time and Space.
Blessed Be all that is,
has been, and is to be
Blessed be We
the Human Family.
Blessed Be.
Blessed Be.
Blessed Be.
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.
friendly wind
the soft wind moves with joy
in the darkness of the night
gentling my spirit
with caresses lush and light
friend, your humble welcome
restores my fearful heart
and in the dwelling of your love
I am reborn
and the night is deep and holy
with its shower of shining stars
and i am lost in kindness
like a leaf blown on the storm
Helpless
Helpless
in the grip of love
I move the way the trees do
swaying and tempestuous
in the great shifting airs
but rooted
in patience
Blind as a bat
and making all kinds
of mistakes
I flap ever forward
while inside me
love blows my emptiness
into a smile
And I know
that when i die
i will ride
this wild, good wind
home.
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 Body of Love
On certain
lucky mornings
my heart awakens happy
as if she had been embraced
all night long
held in warmth
and affection
Then I ask
who am I
who is my mother-father
where did I come from
and where might I
be going?
And I remember
not the details
but the flavor
of that place
where all of us are born
anew
in every moment
That place is a gentle realm
without reasons
without causes and effects
without sharp edges
without walls
without separation,
loneliness
or fear
In that place
there is only welcome
and the soft joy
of the heart’s embrace
That place lives
in the center of flowers
in the depths of forest pools
in sunlight laughing on the river
in the swimming fish
and the lovely
licking waters
In that place
everything is friendly:
the clouds in the sky
the enwrapping emptiness
the sparkling night
sweet Air
and her brother
Thunder-lightning
the mountains and deserts
the community of the trees
all weather
and the resounding seas
There
all, all, all
is the body of love
which is
kindness incarnate
And so
whenever we are kind
to each other
whenever we celebrate life
and share joy
whenever we are good
to this world
and its multitude
of living things
we kindle that place
within and among us
And that is how
we ourselves
become
the immortal body
of love
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.
Vindication - a mother’s learning curve
Dear child
for too many years
it was indeed
just as you have said:
When you told me
your troubles
I always assured you
all would be well
because I needed that
to be true:
you
were my life raft
in the existential sea
And you
and your siblings
seeing that I needed you
more than you
needed me
grew wary
of frightening me
until finally
one by one
you left
and my life raft
sank
in the wild deeps
Then
O woe was me
with no clue
how to swim
I thrashed about
quite fruitlessly
before giving up
with a gasp and a groan
to wallow and flounder
and sink
like a stone
And down I went
until
out of the blue
lo and behold
to my great relief
I found I could float
because my spirit
it seems
is naturally
as buoyant as can be
and that was when
I knew
that if that was true
for me
it was also true
for you
So now
when you come to me
in your adversity
I still say
“All will be well!”
but now
I say it
differently
Because
in your predicament
I see the opening
of a door
that leads to more
than you ever dreamt
possible:
the fulfillment
of your dearest dreams
And I know
that when the time is right
you will find the way
to pass
through that door
into the infinite unfolding
of who you truly are.