Monday Poem

In all cases, the goal is to move past literal life into the imagination to render the almost—to express the mysterious ambiguity that is. . . ……………………………………………….. —Nicholas Dawidoff, writer Almost yesterday I walked our yard with a grandson who toddled beside in a state almost of disequilibrium but he tended his balance and stayed upright…

Monday Poem

Justicia fickle thing with scales she’s blind sometimes, but often lifts her blindfold just enough to appraise a man’s cache of melanin, holes in shoes, shuffle in gate, accent, religious state and what he owns of cars and houses: she aligns her scales with power’s weight under which she also slouches in this ruse, Justicia, with a…

Monday Poem

Little Miracles 5 …. —Yin Yang Lamps lamps yin and yang   I celebrate your balancing! dark and light you shine from faux bronze fluted stands you do not so much vacillate you do a soloduo thing you manage your blaze and shadowing concurrently.  you palpitate. from colluding upsidedown bell-like shades you radiate your lifelong itch…

Monday Poem

Driver’s License Renewal Photo . I look, and first I think, Whoa, You look like the father of a 49-year old then think, Whoa, you are the father of a 49-year-old . Then I think, Whoa, You look like somebody’s grandpa then think, Whoa, You are somebody’s grandpa . Then I think, Whoa You look like somebody’s great-grandpa then think, Whoa, You…

Monday Poem

“…shimmering through the leaves and out beyond the black lines of her neighbors’ chimney pots were the stars, beacons whose light left them long before there were eyes on this planet to receive it…” …………………………………………….. — archeologist Jacquetta Hawkes Tripping on Curbs we who live in deep space and trip on curbs looking up at stars…

Monday Poem

Snake Tales 1. Taking the Rap . . . so I said to Eve the Courageous: here’s something extraordinary— a thing as sweet as knowing but bitter too, possibly lethal, and (at the very least) a gateway to trouble, yet a wonder worth the risk while Adam (you must know) was not off on some pious ramble through the garden picking…