she laughs in her sleep
and then turns away from me
we are all alone
(June 24, 2025)
-
Quick Take on Robert Graves’ I, Claudius
by
I finished reading (again) I, Claudius by Robert Graves this morning. It is the RFB book for July. I first read it when I was in high school, forty years ago. I loved it then, and loved it again this time. It is a historical novel, set in Imperial Rome, told from the point of view of Claudius, who is seen as a harmless buffoon by his murderous relatives. Because of their opinion of him, he manages to survive all of the palace intrigues, and by the end of the novel, becomes emperor of Rome. (This is not really a spoiler if you have any knowledge of Roman history). The book ends with Claudius being declared emperor. In the sequel Claudius the God, his stint as ruler of Rome is told. I don’t have any plans on reading it again, but who knows. I remember it being as fun as I, Claudius. I, Claudius is funny, and historically accurate, as far as I know. The colder than ice ambitions of the characters as they maneuver for power is stunningly familiar to the current political situation here in the US. (sadly).
-
Rebel, Rebel
“We had a hedge back home in the suburbs
Over which I never could see:
—The Clash
Sporting my “Howl” facsimile t-shirt
after working out at the gym, I stop
by the local grocery store for a few things.
David Bowie plays on the store’s music track,
followed by the Clash’s “Lost in the Supermarket.”
How ironic and fun! as I move down the aisle.
I quickly grab the gluten-free bread we like,
a pre-prepared sushi meal for lunch,
and a bag of ice since our fridge crapped out.
Down the road ICE maintains a detention center.
While on the other side of the world, jets bomb
Palestinians in Gaza, and the people in Tehran.
(June 18, 2025)
-
tactics versus strategy
another poet sincerely warns us
that in such dark times as these
what with war starvation and hate
we must use our small voices
no matter how simple and off key
as instruments of dire witness
to resist death’s ubiquitous agents
for to do less would be complicit
yet surely we have surrenderedif peace beauty and love
are no longer words in our mouths
we have lost what we espouse
when their language becomes ours
our time is not indifferent to love
(June 12, 2025)
-
After Forty Years of Incremental Change
by
Against an indifferent blue,
the clouds are brighter,
a harder white,
than even a few years back.
The air’s seared earlierin the mornings now;
one can taste it, raw,
at the back of the throat.
Before midnight,sunset brings small relief;
and even then, morning’s
heat breaks early.
Lizards, not here before,skitter across the rocks.
(June 6, 2025)
-
Words are Difficult
by
The conversation continues along
the old tracks of cliche. Clack-clack he says.
Clack-clack, she responds. And so goes the night,
Another milk run no one remembers.
I worry about what I should forget,and forget what I should worry about.
In a forest of clear trails and side tracks,
one word completes the regrets of the whole.
It’s easy to get caught in an eddy,to circle slowly back to past mistakes,
to unravel a gesture’s soft nuance,
to mean more than anyone could entail.
What could he have said? What could she have said?The words are spoken. The cast’s determined.
(May 31, 2025)
-
Descarte’s Great Grand Niece Twice Removed at a College Party
by
She thought, but that it need not be mentioned.
She doubted he could understand at all.
The party pulsed around them obliquely.
She thought about her old dreams once again.
He claimed she was being irrational.
She doubted dry reason’s caste privilege.
She laughed and twirled toward the dance floor.
He kept talking as if she were still there.
Dancing in tight angles and broad circles,she thought at her best with her blue eyes closed.
He felt comfortable in closed boxes
easily stacked in a dark corner room.
She knew that reason was an emotion.
He desired life to fall tightly in place.
(May 27, 2025)
-
forty years ago
by
it was just the two of us Lisa and I
too young for children we thought
now they’re all grown and goneand I’m too tired even for regret
(May 26, 2025)
-
As in a Bruegel Painting
As in a Bruegel painting,
all the exquisitely-rendered
details occur unnoticed,
for the most part, lost
in the vast panoramic
rituals of this life.
It doesn’t matter,
so much,
where you look,
but that you see
the bits that are born,
bloom, then die
every moment
all around you,
and that you
are a part
of it all.
(May, 20, 2025)
-
Off Key
by
Each day’s a new opportunity
to fail, to stumble on the way,
skin my knees then rise, dizzy:
the world trembles like glass
in a harmony I cannot sing.
(May 15, 2025)
-
Always Already
by
He sits in a darkened room, oblivious
to the metaphor of time: today
is today he says to himself.
The door shuts; he cannot leave,
any more than live out of context,
a moment without past or future.
A rose buds, blooms, petals fall—
without narrative, without sequence.
(May 14, 2025)
-
The Vole’s Secret
I am broken bits and fragments
of others’ lives I’ll never know
beyond this myopic horizon
smudging the sun into night:
an owl slips through tree branches
to watch the rustle of grass below.
I hear the soft noises scurry
surreptitiously in my darkness.
The vole’s secret, larger than itself,
fits tightly folded into a pocket.
I dare not read what I do not
wish to know, yet it is waiting.
In my darkness, I must move slow;
in my darkness, there’s nowhere to go.
(May 5, 2025)
-
Possible Side Effect of Meds
Some days just walking—
and I lean from the earth’s core
like a falling star.
I stand up quickly,birds, planets, and stars swarm like flies;
I fall to my knees.
Nothing is stable,yet, I expect the sunrise
as I kneel in prayer.
One hand touches a wall,the other reaches into air
for something not there.
The earth spins about the sun,as my fingers lose their grip.
(May 3, 2025)
-
Constellated
a cluster of stars
hundreds, if not
millions of light years
apart, forms a pattern
to our minds, close
enough to serve
as a myth of us
to live inside
(May 2, 2025 )
subtext 