My mother’s husband,
easily confused,
sat at the restaurant table
in tears,
nerves imploded.
He pleaded with her for help,
to make the conversation
stop.
We acquiesced,
he quieted,
his soul a
corpse-brown
husk.
Twelve years later
he and my mother are both
dead. Last week the family
restaurant where we sat
burned
to the ground.
(No. 65 in a series of responses to Han-Shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
I park my truck under
cover, crack the windows
when I shop for groceries.
That way my companion lab
won’t get too hot while he waits
in the front seat.
I give Ted’s velvet ears a loving
tug, tell him it won’t be long.
I feel him out there while I shop,
consider getting him a treat,
but don’t.
Three years have passed
since he showed me
how […]
A man sits at attention,
suspended in a rotating
crystal with no top or bottom.
Each facet of the crystal mediates
his thoughts and feelings
about himself, family, others.
He surveys the zeitgeist,
adjusts his attitudes,
offers a palette of caring
colors to relieve
the stress of others.
He believes this makes
the world a better
place.
Although the prospect
of death is worrisome,
his vague sense of Buddhism
and healthy constitution
allow […]
Thirteen outlaws swung
in the breeze by movie’s end.
At age five, I preferred the hero’s
role, sporting a pair of six-shooters
and Captain Marvel’s cape.
But now death’s mystery
corralled me.
Did they really die? I asked my mother.
Oh, no, the actors don’t die.
It was possible to hang, die,
and still eat dinner.
I found a clothesline rope, fashioned
a noose, climbed an […]
Caitlin, a down-winder,
lay dying in the hospital.
Who thought of it first?
Let’s do the wedding now!
Scott was there, license
in hand. Witnesses?
Here’s Jan, visiting from our office,
and Caitlin’s oncologist makes two.
I have my Universal Life minister
certificate. Afterward we cried,
but then Scott went out
for a six-pack and we toasted
the newlyweds. No beer for
Caitlin, but she […]
From a tentative reference
in a tangential discussion
a confidence is taken,
a truth revealed.
A work mate has leukemia.
Churning, I must share
this news with a trusted
one. Hesitantly, I speak
in a darkened room.
Soon we will all
know.
(No. 74 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
Old Schmitty was 88 when we met, back when
he used his last two working fingers
to peck out short, dense treatises
on love, nature, kindness.
We’d unpack his thoughts for hours
searching the Yeomalt beach
or watching the Sound from his driftwood wicki.
I lived just up the hill,
and I’d find him whenever I came looking,
on the beach or by his […]
The camera angle clarifies.
The Gaza landscape is open.
There are only these things:
a young woman wearing
a bright orange jacket,
her bullhorn,
the protected Israeli soldier-operator
of the huge US-supplied bulldozer,
And fear.
Down with the demonstrator!
Down with the house!
Down with life!
Down.
Recently I heard of an old fellow,
a lawyer, who worked until he was
almost 100 years old.
Then he had an accident, a fall.
He died during his convalescence.
They say the cause of death
was unspecific; that most likely
he died of a broken
routine.
There is no other life.
(With apologies to Gary Snyder.)
February 2, 2003
Today, seven astronauts exploded high in the sky.
Seven skiers perished under Canadian snows.
Thirty-three shoppers burned in a Chinese mall.
While our nation prepared to shock
and awe the people of the Middle East.
All of this makes it difficult
to smile for the camera.
This is not a problem for the children,
riding high on parents’ shoulders.
