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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

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  • Quick Take: Lost in Austin: The Evolution of an American City by Alex Hannaford

    by

    change, home, life, memoir, paradigm shifts, past, patterns, reader response, reading

    I finished Lost in Austin by Alex Hannaford in a couple of days. It disaggregates the changes in Austin for the worse over the last 25 years (for the most part, with some historical background going back into the 1980’s). My experience of living in the Austin area since 1978 confirms all of what he says in the book. Austin has become too expensive to live in: median income versus median housing costs do not match up. Living in a semi-arid region which is quickly becoming flat out arid due to climate change causes the city to not be “fun” to live in. The increasing descent into right-wing political madness makes the social/political climate unbearable to those attracted to the laid back attitude of Austin. While I agree with most of what Hannaford details in the book about the changes in Austin, I can’t help but think about the old light bulb joke: How many Austinites does it take to change a light bulb? Three. One to change the light bulb, and two to talk about how much better the old light bulb was. Austin has always been different to each succeeding wave of people who move here. The book is a fast read, Hannaford keeps things moving. His mixture of personal reflection of “his Austin” with historical facts (most of which I remember as they occurred) make it an enjoyable and informative book. The sad part is that, like him, it makes me want to finally give up on “my Austin” and move. 

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  • Less Regard than a Sparrow

    by

    anxiety, attention, awareness, clarity, erasure, future, pessimism, poetry

    “untroubled by a leaf falling

    in a garden”

    —George Oppen

    lost in worry

    which troubles you

    more than


    the obvious death

    the obvious moment

    in which you live


    most of what you know

    has diminished

    from nuance


    eroded into a mass

    irrelevant 

    grave

    (January 23, 2025)

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  • Haberdashery at the End of the World

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    awareness, broken, change, emo, existential angst, metaphor, poetry, politics, present

    these are

    the clothes

    that are 

    left us


    these are

    the rags

    we must 

    wear now


    the past

    divests

    the future


    of all

    fashion

    but one

    (January 23, 2025)

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  • Occluded

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    clarity, future, meditation, optimism, perspective, poetry, tanka, vision

    I’ve lost my glasses.

    Fog hangs thick; it’s hard to see

    beyond the back fence.

    The new moon lurks above me,

    almost as dark as the sky.

    (January 19, 2025)

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  • Quick Take: The Gospel According to Jesus

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    belief, books, interpretation, Language and Literacy, reader response, reading, thinking, translation


    On the advice of a character from a Jim Harrison novel I was reading many years ago, I ordered two translations of Stephen Mitchell: The Book of Job, and The Gospel According to Jesus. I finally got around to reading one of them (one big advantage of retirement). Over the last couple of weeks I have read The Gospel According to Jesus. It was interesting and worthwhile. It opens with a lengthy introduction, followed by a translation of the parts of the gospels which in some versions would be the red-letter parts. After that section, Mitchell returns to the various parts thematically,  accompanied with commentary. The commentary is a mixture of Mitchell, selections from Biblical scholars, and similar themes in philosophy (Buddhist, Taoist), and poetry (Blake, Rilke for example). As one of the blurbs on the back of the book says, “This approach succeeds brilliantly. Jesus, or at least Mitchell’s attractive portrait of him, leaps. into life and will fire the interest of believers and nonbelievers alike. (Harvey Cox)” And no, I have not abandoned my apostasy.

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  • Notes on Point of View

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    attention, awareness, difference, happiness, liminal, poetry

    no more than this moment of light

    which is enough for now

    to bring me to a halt


    long enough for the dogs

    to look at me bewildered 


    then a deer rises from the earth

    bounds over the high grass

    silent as the slow glow 

    of the rising winter sun


    one dog notices

    the other notices

    our notice


    both wag their tails

    (January 16, 2025)

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  • Mandala

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    awareness, frustration, haiku, irony, lament, paradigms, poetry, samsara, social construction

    fuck my life I say

    as I go about my day—

    ritual defines

    (January 10, 2025)

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  • another year

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    agency, awareness, change, delusion, haiku, meditation, patterns, perspective, poetry, sonnets, tanka, ways of knowing

    the dogs bark out back

    again the wind ignores them

    each to their nature


    a warm new year’s eve

    ends the hottest year ever

    our world is burning


    we live deluded

    without trust in what we see

    shadows form our wall


    of course old leaves fall

    as easy as the sun sets—

    another new year


    the wind is only the wind

    the sun will rise without us

    (December 31, 2024)

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  • each day a broken ritual

    by

    awareness, drinking, poetry

    the last bottle of champagne is empty

    I pour a glass of malbec opened

    for Christmas, three days ago—


    there are no secrets

    only unacknowledged lies

    (December 29, 2024)

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  • transition

    by

    acceptance, aging, borders, change, death, loss, poetry, process, transition

    an afternoon is enough:

    an hour, or so, with the sun

    as shadows slip across

    the walls and ceiling


    he was there, 

    and now he’s not

    (December 27, 2024)

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  • Winter Solstice

    by

    acceptance, agency, belief, change, hope, interrelationships, life, liminal, meditation, metaphor, paradigm shifts, patterns, poetry, politics, relationships, ritual, transition, trust, ways of knowing

    Crows fly overhead

    with raucous caws.

    With less than an hour

    before the long night begins,

    I start a fire in the back yard.

    Inside where candles burn,

    guests gather bearing  wine and gifts.

    Spilling some wine, I turn

    from the fire and wave

    to my friends inside.

    Tonight we share food,

    and laughter. Fear of the dark

    hangs on the edge of the fire.

    Of this, we are all aware.

    Tonight, we smile, hug, 

    and toast the coming year:

    there is always hope.

    Tomorrow, the light,

    in daily increments, begins

    to slowly turn from the night.

    (December 22, 2024)

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  • the obvious sutra

    by

    acceptance, attention, clarity, life, meditation, oblivious, poetics, poetry, truth, ways of knowing, zen

    if I understood I would not

    need to write this moment


    i’d simply let the breeze wash

    across my skin without metaphor


    like morning sunlight strikes

    the strings of a silent guitar        

    (December 18, 2024)                                                           

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  • status quo ante bellum

    by

    acceptance, interrelationships, patterns, poetry, relationships, transition

    we returned after months

    because we knew me must

    despite exhaustion of the dead


    we returned with each other 

    to each other’s acceptance

    despite the darkened folds


    we returned to common rooms

    to staccato conversations

    despite our acquiescent whispers

    we returned to rearranged chairs

    to vaguely shifted points of view

    despite our best attempts to lie


    we returned to our solitudes

    to our redacted definitions

    despite our fractured lives

    (December 15, 2024)

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  • Another Morning Lost in the Folds of Memory

    by

    autumn, borders, change, erasure, home, life, liminal, memoir, memory, paradigms, patterns, poetry, prose poem, solitude, traces, transition

    As if leading a ritual, the dogs wake me from dream. Their wet noses snuffle in my ear, scenting for traces of consciousness.  I slowly collect myself, then escape down the stairs alone. Their task complete, the dogs curl into the warm shapes I leave behind in the tangled sheets. I’m cold, so I wrap myself in one of the brightly colored Mexican blankets Lisa bought more than twenty years ago along the border. Behind me on the counter, the coffee pot begins to gurgle and spurt. I watch through the sliding glass door as the leaves fall from the cottonwood and sycamore out back. Chasing squirrels most of the day, the dogs have worn two paths through the grass, each ending in the same place on the far side of the cypress at the bottom of the yard. These paths breathe cliche, no less so because mundane. The squirrels, out early, leap from tree to tree, dropping to the ground unmolested to collect acorns they buried, somehow remembering where they are months after the fact.

    (December 10, 2024)

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  • walking into night

    by

    aging, allegory, awareness, emo, haiku, objectivism, poetry, time, transition

    an old man stumbles then

    feels his way through shadows

    shifting across his walls

    (December 7, 2024)

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