Monday, September 15, 2014
If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
— Will Rogers
Thursday, September 04, 2014
To argue with a person who has renounced the use of reason is like administering medicine to the dead
A Founding Father, predicting the level of discourse on most social media sites.
Wednesday, September 03, 2014
Today I have grown taller from walking with the trees.
— Karle Wilson Baker
Friday, August 29, 2014
Alienation of Time
Eternal swinging of loose clock
hands like mirrors of broken
emptiness as in an endless lake
or swift leggéd horse of life
dream in nightmare
unknown in time.
A bleeding heart of time
drips on the face of the clock
as it hides in a nightmare
which has been broken
by the reality of life
shone in ripples of a lake.
For more, see Alienation of Time
This is a slightly revised high school poem (circa 1974-75); it won a competition for high school poets held by the Poetry Society of Oklahoma. Retyping it now, almost 30 years later, I see a lot of flaws. Kind of amazed it won an award; might have been an "A for effort" in recognition of my attempt to write a sestina.
The school administration learned of the award through a blurb in the local paper. I was essentially strong-armed into bringing the award (a small certificate in a plastic holder) to school so the principal could hand it to me at a school awards assembly.
Monday, August 25, 2014
When eating a fruit, think of the person who planted the tree.
— Vietnamese Proverb
Friday, August 22, 2014
Sometimes I think I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Nothing is more real than nothing.
Monday, August 18, 2014
If you want your dreams to come true, don't oversleep.
— Yiddish Proverb
Friday, July 11, 2014
Sunday, July 06, 2014
Saturday, June 28, 2014
In view of the Supreme Court recent ruling on "buffer zones", I'm thinking about harassing people as they enter gun shops. Call ’em kid killers.
Anyone care to join me?
Friday, June 27, 2014
She's Been Waiting
She could have been
waiting for you ages
at the stop sign
or some nameless doorway
— Diana, our Lady
of the Moon Waves.
She's reciting your horoscope.
She has tied your dreams
in the long tresses of her hair.
— Diana, the lady of water
and lights on the water.
She's mesmerized the cars on Canal Street —
now they're a painting:
white shimmering circles
on a black background.
— Diana, our lady of rain;
and she's waiting for you, brother.
She's been waiting for you
since the dragons were born.
The moon rises behind her head
there's a stop sign behind her left shoulder
and at her right, hidden in her hair,
is a dark angel.
And though half her face
is hidden in shadow,
you know it's her.
You know she's been waiting for you
for ages now
with her arms folded beneath her breasts.
Her face has never grown old
since the river
first learned to speak.
Go now, brother, go to her now —
she's been waiting for you.
Begun on a bus from NYC to Princeton, NJ
Art by Drew Curtis
This clear season
engulfs you like regal robes.
Do you know this time?
Have you held rain's memory?
Do you know what your father dreams?
Monday, June 23, 2014
A note of music gains significance from the silence on either side.
— Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Saturday, June 21, 2014
The Secret Box
What secret box must I steal to rediscover the timeless space?
Shall I befriend the angel of light
or the dark voices only I can hear?
The secret of improvisation is to always say yes,
to always gratefully accept whatever is offered;
my life is a long improvisation
And the dark voices offer their dark critiques
but the angel of light will never whisper 'no'
I improvise my sacred love
over the random jazz heart
and the discordant nerves
Practice the timeless breath
out by breathless mesas
red hawks riding thermals
Compassion for the angel of light
Compassion means presence
but does not require deep listening
Attend the feelings, but walk beside
keep your distance from the darkness
There are no wrong lines in improvisation —
There's the footlights, and the outer darkness;
There's the darkness & void where a world is created
and the light where the world begins
The box has pearlised inlay:
young artist as crow
in his black fedora
and his morning ritual
Open the curtains: let the jazz begin.
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