Archive for November, 2020

Ci Vediamo

died last 

one more
tear is all
I have

when there's no one 

odd that she spoke
to him just yesterday
after years of not having

dear Arthur

cc: CC 2020 


Suddenly came 
a long poem

Chagall 2020

The ABCs of It

X occurs
Y is reported
Z is archived and persisted

nowhere does any X
mark any spot

Chagall 2020

Haiku We Never See

Together we are
I am the rain, you are wind
Come now and blow me

Chagall 2020

Sencha Chillin’

I nurse a big wad
of green tea through
three steeps

from noon
until midday

with the first brew I surmise
the fate of the wind and the rain

the second brings me joy 
while I stretch luxuriantly

and here am I 
with the third

shall we read 
our leaves?

Chagall 2020

The Snug of the Neck

I have the same wonder for stars as my Mother,
knowing there's one for each
of us

of the stars 
we are

She said with each navel God proclaimed
You're done!

with a celebratory twist of her finger
to coil the cord tight

I asked her how did she know it was me,
knowing at the time I was somehow destined
to be her baby, less knowing of the biology 
of how such could be so, imagining myself 
lost in a sea of babies in bassinets, her face 
pressed against a glass trying to find me

And my Mother simply said
You smiled

in my head
are many stars

Chagall 2020

In late Summer, an Eastern Bluebird crashed into my window,
knocking herself unconscious.  Hearing the loud thud of her small
head hitting glass, I ran outside to see her there on the 
ground, curled and still.  

Picking up a spray bottle filled with 
water that I keep near the grill to fight flare-ups, switching 
the nozzle from diffuse spray to a hard stream, I proceeded 
to inundate the bird's body with strong invigorating pulses of water, 
while shouting out prayers and encouragement, attempting to resurrect 
the life left within.

Suddenly the bluebird jumped to its feet, and stood there a moment, dazed and confused, a miniature feathered Lazarus, shook itself as if after a bath, water splaying off her body, she whistled a quick song in my direction and flew off, albeit a bit shakily.

Weeks pass and I am outside enjoying the last remnants of
warm weather that Autumn offers, playing acoustic guitar in 
the backyard, sheets of Cole Porter and Gershwin tunes flapping,
paper-clipped to my music stand.  

As I work my way through the intricacies of Someone to Watch Over Me, I am startled by a sudden flurry of wings about me.  Two Eastern Bluebirds alight, one on the music stand, and one on a nearby watering can, while a third hovers like a hummingbird at eye-level, trilling a lovely song directly to me.  She is unafraid and wholly engaged
in her task there before me.

Looking closely, I can see the slightest flattening of the bird's
crown, where she made contact with the window weeks before.  

I feel my breath catch hard in my throat, and I begin to cry,
knowing that this is a small party come to thank me. As they fly
away, I send a cascade of arpeggios to follow them, filled with love, 
you're welcome, and thank you, from this humbled human. 

Chagall 2020

In Any Key

I am standing here over the ramparts,
watching, and I am happy to announce...

Chagall 2020

Write With Mind, Not Tongue

Hey - whispers are ALWAYS faint.

Chagall 2020

When To Redouble Effort

I'd been digging for hours through the avalanche atop me, 
desperate to reach surface.  When I broke into a large
warm pocket of air inside the snow, 
I started to cry from joy,
anticipating I was near,
until I realized 
my tears 

Chagall 2020
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