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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
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  • Living in a Time of Darkness

    by

    acceptance, aging, belief, change, courage, fear, future, humility, i ching, life, liminal, paradigms, patterns, poetry, politics, rage, response, sonnets, ways of knowing, worry

    I read once when I was young, I believe

    in the I Ching, that a tall stone tower

    on a hill is a great defense in war;

    except it draws the enemy’s attack.


    One can run, but not hide from an attack;

    nor run away while hiding. Paradox.

    Yet there is a third option. Wherever

    you are is the ground upon which you stand.


    You stand openly, steady like a tree,

    whose roots have coiled deeply into the earth.

    Allow the time’s darkness to surge through you,

    yet again, in long slow pulsating waves;


    until the latest storm’s violence abates,

    and you find yourself right where you have been.


    (March 26, 2024)

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  • a new day

    by

    abstract, acceptance, change, language, life, poetry

    beyond the fence across the creek

    a woman sings— hello, hello

    what’s your name—it’s morning

    it’s morning—what’s your name

    a voice singing, spontaneous

    and random, uncalled for nor

    conjured, yet present

    unannounced and resonant


    like a wine glass approaches

    high C harmonizes

    to such an extent

    with the word it shatters


    redefining what it means

    to be only who you are


    (March 23, 2024)

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  • Reading List

    by

    books

    Reread this small (28 pages) book last night. I read this last some time in the 1980’s when I was binging on Pound. It is similar to the “translations” he did for the poems in Cathay, like “The River Merchant’s Wife.” Imagistic with a lot implied connotations. It made me pull two other books off the shelf this morning (not by Pound): The Poems of Catullus, and an anthology of Ancient Egyptian Literature.–The joys of having a rather extensive and eclectic personal library.

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  • Judge Not

    by

    Arcana, borders, breach, despair, existential angst, forgiveness, hope, interpretation, meditation, metaphor, poetry, response, sonnets, tarot, transition

    stale whispers and innuendo

    along the margins of a wind

    have risen again from the dead

    hinting a time of judgement

    is at hand— a time of resentment

    and retribution festers anew

    what is the opposite of judgement

    acceptance forgiveness mercy


    mercy has long fallen away

    lost somewhere unnoticed

    while despair exhausted clings

    without solace to strands of hope

    that drift listless and tattered

    like cottonwood fluff through the air


    (March 20, 2024)

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  • Safety First

    by

    abstract, anxiety, change, choice, control, doubt, existential angst, fear, irony, poetry, tired

    if i move too fast then details

    which get lost in the blur

    tumble away from me as I fall

    grasping desperately at roots

    protruding from the rock 

    or seizing bits of grass

    that rim the edge of the whole


    yet if I move too slow

    then the larger view decays

    into each profound curvature

    of stone I step upon

    until i clinch my teeth

    in anticipation of intercepting

    the wall with my jaw, then

    watch my blood follow in slow arcs

    behind my shattered teeth


    so i stand still

    risking nothing

    (March 18, 2024)

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  • retirement reflection

    by

    agency, aging, happiness, identity formation, life, memoir, patterns, poetry, sonnets

    after he retired

    my dad worked


    repairing old furniture

    people called antiques


    he used his skills

    gathered over time


    to make some money

    to give him purpose


    after thirty-four years

    of teaching reading and writing


    I read and write

    poetry without money


    but a purpose

    nevertheless


    (March 16, 2024)

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  • Last Breath

    by

    aging, alone, ambition, delusion, desire, doubt, fear, frustration, lament, poetry, tired, words, worry, writing

    the desire for words

    inspires delusion


    the ambition

    laced in envy


    clots the throat

    with small words


    small ideas

    until all that’s left


    to say wheezes

    past dry lips


    in a final

    thin sigh


    no one

    can hear


    (March 15, 2024)

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  • Prophet Song, quick take

    by

    anxiety, awe, beauty, books, courage, existential angst, fear, literature, politics, reader response, reading

    I finished Prophet Song by Paul Lynch over the last couple of days for my book group (RFB). It is hard to put down, even when you want to look away. An intense, disturbing read. Great lit! Ireland turns toward fascism and civil war. The story follows Eilish and her family as she struggles to keep her family intact and survive. I was paranoid inside of the first 30 pages, and stayed that way to the end 275 pages later. I was always expecting the worst. So many echoes of our current political situations, as well as genocide around the world. I imagine it will stay with me for quiet a long while. Read it. Seriously.

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  • Winter’s End

    by

    acceptance, aging, change, contentment, meditation, nature, poetry

    From the back porch,

    with a few winter evenings left,

    a small flock of starlings,

    perhaps three dozen or so,

    murmur quickly above the trees,

    turn above the park

    as in a parting gesture,

    and vanish without a trace.

    Aching from yard work,

    no matter how small,

    I sit on the back patio

    and slowly dissolve into the sky,

    where the moon follows the sun

    into the west trailed by Venus.


    (March 13, 2024)

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  • They Have Some Concerns

    by

    aging, awareness, change, children, family, happiness, interrelationships, poetry, relationships, ritual

    I let the dogs out to play

    as someone knocks on the door.

    The dogs run to protect me.


    Our grown children have arrived,

    unannounced with warm pastries

    stacked neatly in a white box.


    They came over just to talk,

    and hang out. I make coffee;

    they say they have some concerns.


    The children tell me what’s wrong

    with my life. They have a fresh

    vision with a narrow view.


    What can I do? They know more

    than they did, but not enough

    of the daily rituals


    which have coalesced overtime;

    the compromises, and fears

    one negotiates for love.


    I’ve been there. My mom was old.

    I had a grasp on my life,

    I thought. I wanted to help.


    My tired hubris, like theirs, waits

    for the cold ironic turn,

    when we’ll both know it’s too late.


    For now, it’s much too early.

    I pour a cup of coffee,

    and watch the dogs play outside.


    They yip and nip through the weeds,

    tumbling in the back yard,

    obliviously happy.

    (March 12, 2024)

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  • The Eye (I)

    by

    agency, awareness, clarity, poetry

    I see what I am

    no need for a glass-smooth pond

    to listen for my own adulations

    I am the circle’s center


    existence I know

    is only what I feel

    these eyes this nose this tongue these ears are all

    that will ever be for me

    we all die alone


    at the edge of a black hole

    everything is crushed to us

    (March 11, 2024)

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  • Story Line

    by

    agency, control, dream, interrelationships, meditation, poetry

    “Don’t dream me into someone else”

        —Fernando Pessoa

    perhaps outside

    the speaker’s range

    the assumptive you


    at least by custom

    we follow from reasons

    no one still knows


    old maps decayed

    so we listen to voices

    turn right soon turn left


    we are lost now

    together as before

    in some one’s dream


    I trust this other

    as I trust you

    in the dark to hold hands

    (March 10, 2024)

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  • Late Winter in an Election Year

    by

    anxiety, awareness, change, clarity, fear, hope, oblivious, poetry, politics, sonnets, spring, transition, worry

    Even in late Spring as light grows larger

    the shadows deepen and stretch from beneath

    the twisting Live Oaks. Hope’s a tricky thing:

    We cling to it like dust motes in sunlight,

    ever afraid it won’t be enough.

    Later, the inevitability,

    so obvious, stuns us into silence:

    All the signs were there waiting to be seen.

    Yet, we did see them slithering beneath

    the lightest shadows, only pretending

    what was there was not truly there at all.

    And there lies the rub, our willful blindness

    allows us to believe our world is safe,

    and Spring brings endless fields of daffodils.

    (March 9, 2024)

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  • What I Learned in my Classroom

    by

    acceptance, agency, aging, contentment, life, meditation, poetry, process, retirement, school, ways of knowing

    I used to say I taught nothing:

    we read; we wrote; the practice,

    the process— the means not the end.


    Now closer to my end, I still say

    I do nothing, though busy all day 

    with nothing but this or that.

    (March 7, 2024)

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  • Every Moment a Mirror

    by

    acceptance, agency, clarity, meditation, poetry, ways of knowing

    I translate myself

    so I may breathe

    without choking on air.

    I wish my inner voice

    would stop scripting

    about me like a spider

    softly weaving its own

    sarcophagus. I think

    too much; which is to say,

    I don’t think enough.

    The sun rises and then

    it sets. The light trembles

    on the sea; the wind is

    just the wind where

    mountains are mountains.

    I am here. I see what I am:

    I am not a reflection;

    I am only reflection.

    (March 6, 2024)

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