Morning Poem - 29 Aug 2004

ink and paper sing
gregorian twelve tone canon
black and white silence

For Moses (another grandcat)

fur daubed with pitch black
wild as bullrush river bank
eyes burning-bush bright

For Gandalf (another grandcat)

serene floating cloud
robes of falling rain and fog
a quiet presence

For Tigger (a grandcat)

wild-haired orange cat
texas twister energy
combustion in fur

Afternoon Poem 2 - 24 Aug 2004

the river current
shapes the banks, earth, sand, and stone
which shapes the current

Afternoon Poem - 24 Aug 2004

one tree, already bare
in the grove not yet turning,
will not bud next spring

Lunchtime Poem 2 - 24 Aug 2004

no longer standing
tree dignity overturned
its roots now ex posed

Lunchtime Poem - 24 Aug 2004

sneezing in the dust
raised by wind gusting the trees:
a leaf explosion

Morning Poem - 24 Aug 2004

rain ended, one bird
sings harvest songs to bright leaves
while gathering worms

Evening Poem - 23 Aug 2004

wind sweeps fallen leaves
attic bulb, box of papers:
silverfish scatter

Afternoon Poem - 23 Aug 2004

faithful to my craft
not knowing what it will lead
me to, or to me

Morning Poem - 23 Aug 2004

each of us, unique
has an edge to be sharpened:
sword, scalpel, scissors, ...

Morning Poem - 22 Aug 2004

the sky is cloudy
the sea rough - i didn't catch
a single poem

For several people, one in particular

i finally figured it out

love has a speech impediment

or maybe love was too busy to take speech 101
or study diction
or even read the dictionary

too busy watching out for things
and taking care of things
and putting things away
and fixing things
most of which love did mostly silently
listening
in case i cried out in the night
or the phone rang and it was me
or i came in from mowing, asking for ice water

or maybe love was a little too tired to speak clearly
sleep-deprived
from staying up late to make sure the storm passed
or driving late so i could get up the next morning
a little more rested
or typing my paper for me (how many times?)

or maybe the shots hadn't worn off
when love got a tooth filled for me
or took a punch in the mouth
that i deserved
or love's jaw was clamped shut to keep from yelping
when the rubbing alcohol hit the knee
all skinned up
so mine wouldn't hit the gravel
just like any number of other scrapes, bruises, cuts, sprains, and so on
that love took for me

or love mumbled
with a mouth full of needles and pins
stitching my torn world and me back together

or maybe love just isn't a blabbermouth like me

or maybe love just doesn't say things quite the way i would
because love knows something i don't

so now
at least sometimes
when i hear
don't you want to wear a warmer coat?
or
drive carefully!
or
why didn't you call?

if i listen closely enough
it sounds more like

i love you

Morning Poem 3 - 21 Aug 2004

we create our world
or else respond to it
either way, love wins

Meditation - 21 Aug 2004

things acquire value
with rarity and distance
we treasure diamonds above sand
and crave the mountain top
while at the corner grocery

how much more, then,
we prize the unique,
the original artwork or family heirloom,
long for the impossibly far away,
the friend no longer in this world, or loved one

may God open our eyes to see that
the everyday events and faces
will be displaced and replaced in time,
the people i can touch now, and places
will be erased from the space within reach

today my hand can nolonger hold
what i discarded, or dropped, or forgot yesterday
my arm not long enough to reach
what the night has carried away
likewise tomorrow will rob today

may God open our mouths to bless
the ordinary
may God open our hands to touch
the nearby
may God open our hearts to love
today

For K

the bower bird nests
amid others' leftovers:
surrounding beauty

Morning Poem 2 - 21 Aug 2004

mate no longer here
the goose remains by the lake
callling in the dusk

Morning Poem - 21 Aug 2004

when i have come near
please be waiting there for me
the last steps are hard

Evening Poem - 20 Aug 2004

damp spots on the walk
where leaves lay after the rain
until the wind came

Afternoon Poem - 18 Aug 2004

gentle reminder
poets, free-form pottery
should still hold water

Morning Poem - 19 Aug 2004

snack to the orca,
lone submarine penguin:
terror to the fish

Evening Poem 3 - 18 Aug 2004

prayer prays itself,
poem sings itself; and i?
just a loud speaker

Evening Poem 2 - 18 Aug 2004

i reach for the knob
marked "volume", turn it waaaaaaaay up
wanting to be large

Evening Poem - 18 Aug 2004

committee argues;
after debate, consensus:
i order kung pao

Afternoon Poem - 18 Aug 2004

irrational feeling
all things i've lost wait for me
gathered in one place

Lunchtime Poem (obvious context) - 18 Aug 2004

after the dentist,
trying to eat soup for lunch,
i HATE crunching sounds!!!

Lunchtime Poem - 18 Aug 2004

my haiku are poor,
as i have difficulty
counting

Still Morning - 18 Aug 2004

not just laziness
when i fail to say "-in-law"
and call you "daughter"

Morning - 18 Aug 2004

After reading this, I just didn't have the heart to post my own scribbles this morning.

Another One - 17 Aug 2004

roots twined underground
lovers holding secret hands
defying the storm

Evening Poem - 17 Aug 2004

leaves hanging limply
dust-gritty trees shade the dog
panting for water

Afternoon Poem - 17 Aug 2004

we bore easily:
trees, fields, homes, memory - gone
for mere novelty

Love Poem - 17 Aug 2004

how do I love you?
when I tried to count the ways
it crashed my spreadsheet!

Morning Poem - 17 Aug 2004

waiting on poems
sometimes the words surprise me
i learn as i write

Driving Poem - 16 Aug 2004

lightening-stroked limb,
leaves never since returning,
frames the harvest moon

Morning Poem - 16 Aug 2004

tiniest of cracks
leaking words from outside time
standing here, i feast

Reflection 4 - 15 Aug 2004

reunion predawn:
i'm called from sleep by the sound
of someone snoring

Reflection 3 - 15 Aug 2004

corridor of green
leading to my memories
and back home again

Reflection 2 - 15 Aug 2004

so many faces
some have changed, some still the same,
some still - in photos

Reflection 1 - 15 Aug 2004

reunions stretch hearts
as workouts stretch the body:
pleasurable ache

Evening Poem - 14 Aug 2004

poems fly above
flocks of thoughtbirds migrating;
sometimes i catch one

Early Morning Poem - 14 Aug 2004

biscuit-headed clouds
baked hard in the popping sky
we melt like butter

Afternoon Poem - 13 Aug 2004

a mirror cannot
reflect on its own image
without another

Lunchtime Poem - 13 Aug 2004

hurricane landfall:
wind, rain, waves, and chaos surge
like first-grade recess

For K

my morning coffee
middle-aged american
tea ceremony

Morning Poem - 13 Aug 2004

i heard the first time
you explained quicksand to me:
DID YOU BRING A ROPE?

Lunchtime Poem - 12 Aug 2004

blue-white heat-haze sky
sprinkling of shadowless clouds
windshield waterspots

Mid-Morning Poem - 12 Aug 2004

in the deepest cave
something surrounded by stone
dreams of the sunlight

Bless you...

Disclaimer: I am neither a Hebrew scholar nor a Jew. The following is respectfully offered by one who is merely an amateur (in the original sense of "one who loves") of words and languages.

The Hebrew word barukh is fascinating. As the first word of the classic phrase that begins many blessings, Barukh Attah, Adonai Eloneinu, Melekh ha-olam... it appears customary to translate it as "blessed". What a curious thought to Western minds, that one would presume to bless Adonai !

Like a peaceful tropical bay, the mystery becomes both clearer and deeper when considering the many ways in which the above phrase continues. Not only is the word sometimes translated "praised", but an entire berekhah may be thought of as an extended (and humble) wording of the simple exclamation, "Thank you!" In American (especially Southern American) English, the phrases, "Bless you!", "Bless this food...", "Blessed is the man...", "blessings and cursings", etc. bring to mind the Latin(-based) beatus (and "beatitude"). As this community of words and associations grows, the center seems to include the notion of speaking well of (or to) someone. (I might invite a non-Southern American phrase "may her/his memory be for a blessing" to join this gathering.)

I do not mean speaking well in the pollyanna, "and now, a person who needs no introduction", self-serving sorts of empty flattery; rather I mean speaking of that which is inherently good/praiseworthy in someone or speaking for that which is in someone's best interests (including - pardon the cliche - "tough love"). If you speak to me of a mistake or fault or oversight of mine, with the goal of helping me to remedy it, you are speaking for my best interests, even if I find the conversation uncomfortable.

Of course, as a lover of poetry, I can't avoid the notion that speaking well also involves the quality of my speech as a thing in itself: choosing the right words, images, phrases, metaphors... and avoiding trite-isms and parrot-speak.

So here's a question: if I commit to speaking well (in every possible sense) in everything I say today, is it possible that my speech will be a blessing (again, in every possible sense!) for everyone to whom I speak?

Morning Poem - 12 Aug 2004

the voice of the cloud
sings large, rounded melodies
only the sky hears

Afternoon Senryu - 11 Aug 2004

just like my poems,
i present myself, and am,
a work in progress

Morning poem - 11 Aug 2004

three-layered cloudscape
far to near: white, silver... black?
EXPLODING as birds

Evening Senryu - 10 Aug 2004

who had given her
that old souvenir keychain?
we never found out

Daily Senryu - 10 Aug 2004

some poems live best
in the eye, or ear, or voice:
others in the soul

Untitled Senryu

observe the ductus;
the path that the pen follows
becomes the result

Slam Nationals

We were in St. Louis last week for the National Poetry Slam Competition. Three descriptions come to mind:

• A cross between a poetry reading and a rock concert (this one is from my older son, captain of one of the teams);
• The classic metaphor of using the 'Net as "trying to take a sip from a fire hose";
• A hockey game with pucks for words and a stick in the hands of everyone in the stands.

Did I mention aesthetic/sensory overload?

It was also an emotionally overloading experience:

• Awe at the brilliance of some of the poets;
• Sadness at the levels of redundancy (high) and maturity (low) on the part of some participants;
• Exhiliration at the idea that so many people would come together because of WORDS;
• Heartbreak at the degree to which so many poets seemed willing to waste time and blame others for everything that's wrong with the world (I should have known better; poets are people too!)
• Gratitude for witnessing (despite the family squabbles over housekeeping details and scoring) such a tremendous demonstration 0f mutual encouragement and support.

As an example of the last point, more than once I saw a poet lose her/his way while reciting a long piece from memory. Instead of boos or embarrassed (and embarrassing) silence, I heard cries of "That's OK!", "It's alright!", "Take your time1", or "T's OK, go on!", and encouraging applause from the audience. There were hugs, handclasps, backpats, eye contact, nods, smiles, and cheers following almost every performance (and there were also some tears).

It was also highly memorable, while listenting to the team performance exhibibition at an outdoor stage, to hear sirens and be surrounded by police cars, fire trucks, and helicopters! (There was a hazardous materials alert involving a structure in the same block, but no poems were damaged.)

Poetry and creativity are still alive and kicking!

Calibration post

first post on this blog
laying down the foundation
concrete is a mess