Kurt

He got
what
he wanted,
loser -
fame,
fortune,
fuck.
It's easy,
but he dies
in the light of dawn
with that hound
on his trail.
Light bites
like devil fangs -
help him, somebody,
lock him up,
tie him down,
free him from fate,
a life looping
over and over
until he slips
through dusk
into night.
He remembers
he didn't buy bullets
for that gun.

The Sea is Here....

The way by which
she weaves
and bobs
and writhes
along the side of
satin waves
where sun shines
like monkey shines
about her breasts
and beasts speak
babble,
dance in furry feet
like leviathans
on a beach blanket
dance floor.
Where did I leave
my toothbrush?

The Nature of Things

Lost in thought,
hemmed in by
not knowing,
trapped
in the work-a-day world
do or die,
I took a walk,
found a Toad
in the leaves
by the woods,
slowed down
to a stands-still
by the cold.
Will you be my
good luck charm?
I'm not superstitious
but I needed something - a sign
of good things
to come.
So I carried it inside,
but it felt out of place
in that sterile place
where the natural
is not.
I thought,
I'd better bring it
out,
let it go back
to the place it knows.
To the place
I wish
to go.

Talisman

Feather
you keep
in your
pocket.
You believe
in
the god of things
found
on the ground
in
the morning
present
in the glide
of a Red Tail
crossing
your path
just like
that.
Is it all random
you ask
or
do those Highways
you drive
lead to
Nirvana?

Who's that knocking at my door?

The gentle bull of childhood
lies beneath the cork tree,
dreams of endless sun stoked fields, hills
that roll and stretch to eternity.
In time, you must wake,
prepared or not,
to feel
the morning
seeping
into your life
like an
oozing wound.
Fight,
you might, or
turn back
into sleep,
but the house around you
shall crumble into dust,
and reality will join you

in bed.

Walking the Grounds of the Abandoned Bible Community

Burdened by nothing but
diablo shadows,
I walked
the white stucco side
of the empty dorm,
remembered back
before nature
took over,
the tenants,
like me,
thought it would
never end.
I ran away
from that Catholic prison
down the street,
a visitor
to their Jesus world,
seeking connection,
salvation.
Truthfully,
a girl,
who'd help me forget
teen angst.

Deferring Gratification

Lost driving
on roads
that confused me.
At first,
nervous
of being late.
I was burdened by
projections,
but the beauty
of that wet, twisting meander,
cast away my blues.
Perhaps,
I should have
pulled over, and
given in to the spell
of dripping, orange Maples,
the sudden gleam on
dark blue asphalt
that disarmed me like
a quick, backwoods smile.
I nearly did.
I almost called out sick,
but I shrugged it off,
and promised the woods
I'd be back soon.

What is Real?

Close your
eyes
pretend
to be
someone
you don't
remember.
The truth
is fluid -
go with it.
You are the river
Lethe,
dreamy,
murky.
Float away
Realign yourself
in sensation.
In this moment,
things are cloudy,
unclear.
Did it really happen
that way
or
maybe
you wake to this
dream.

To sum up the months

I consider
the sunflowers,
stalks gnarled,
bulging flowers desiccated,
drooping downward
like a lover's head
just before
the fall.
I stare at this dying,
like my own,
it comes,
whether prepared or not.
But I feel no sadness.
I've made peace with
my days.
They've carried me,
buoyant, like a summer stream
to this point.
I revel
in the artful
chaos of undergrowth and vines,
the slow parade of clouds,
the mystery of cerulean blue
that drives me deeper
into the place
I wish to stay.
But I hear the sun
screaming my name,
your days are numbered,
and there's only time
to walk away.

Democratic Dysfunction

How do you sit together, and pretend everything is alright when so much has gone wrong? I suppose one has to pretend. That is the dynamic of the family. Some might call it acceptance. Is it?

What would those looking in from out see? Would the reality of some be shared by the unbiased observer? Why is my view different than the others? Am I wrong? Or is it that group consensus has deemed certain behaviors and beliefs to be true? Would the unbiased observer agree or not?

There was a time when families held together no matter what. Today, it just takes a dirty look to split them apart. What was once considered the way things had to be has been shot down by time. Some of those views were pure ignorance. Perhaps we don't need family like we used to... Perhaps the definition of family has changed... How much am I willing to give? How much will they concede to me? We shall see. Happy Easter.

Change is Coming

The week began with little fanfare. Monday was smooth and uneventful. Spring was slowly warming the air, pushing Crocuses and Daffodils up through the ground. The Maples started sporting tiny red buds. There were no shocking heat waves. Change was gradual. So when Tuesday came, I had no reason to believe my world would be turned on its head, but like anything of a surprise, it comes at you from the most unlikely angles, and often it's not until later that you realize something significant has happened.

Though four days have passed, and I have fully digested the impact of the conversation, when I think of it, I feel exhausted. I thought we were on better terms, but it's really not that way. In these circumstances, she holds the high ground, and believes that she has right on her side. Even while acting in an underhanded manner, she saw no wrong. Nothing I said would change that - not even when I shouted my points over the phone. In her mind, shouting is bad. Therefore, I had no leg to stand on.

For the rest of that day, a number of emotions swirled through me. I counted anger, sadness, the hurt of betrayal, and the exhaustion that comes with revelation. I had hoped we were coming to a common ground, but our conversation taught me that we were a universe apart.

As the day marched on, the negative emotions slowly evaporated. I felt no anger towards her. In the past, she might have been right, but this was now, and many things had changed, including me. Instead of feeling down and bad for myself, I felt a surge of confidence and renewal. It wasn't the wham-ka-pow of a comic book caption, but the gradual deadening of the wind after a storm. The damage had been done, but in the distance, clouds were blowing away, and the horizon was starting to be revealed.

On Watching "Bright Star"

The character portrayed in this film is an evenly balanced, thoughtful, and sensitive young man, not the tempestuous, feverish, burn-the-candle-at-both-ends figure I've come to believe John Keats was. Perhaps it's my lack of biographical knowledge that takes me by surprise me in this portrayal...

I almost forget that in days gone by, the word, spoken and written, was so cherished. It seems that people loved to gather in the evening after dinner to recite poetry, speeches, verses, as well as perform music or theatrical tidbits. I get it. There was no radio, television, or internet. The word was everything. Letters were the windows to the soul and far away places.

Today words are everywhere. Perhaps they are like tourist sights to those who are local residents. They are there, but in the course of the daily routine, are part of the background, noticed but not truly seen.

Winter

It's been an unusually severe winter in these parts. Southern Connecticut is not known for long bouts of cold and snow, but this year the ground has been blanketed in white for weeks. Most people despise it. They say, I can't wait for Spring, but I like it. It's a distraction. It puts a monkey wrench in life, throws the world on it's head. Going out in the frigid temperature gives people pause. You don't just open the door, and walk out. You must put on your coat, gloves, hat. If it has just snowed, you need to shovel a walk to the car. You have to brush the snow off the car, turn it on so that the inside is heated up to a cozy temperature. When you drive, you must slow down, and use more caution. Some people don't, but they pay the price. It makes people think, be more mindful of things around them. You can't escape it - that's the nature of Nature. People can't control it. It dictates to people. In a sense, it speaks. Hopefully, some will listen.

Morning Light

Even when the blinds are drawn, I can tell what time it is just by how they glow. Many times, I hate the sight of those yellow blinds. The phosphorescent buzz reminds me it's time to get up, and make my way to work. I begrudgingly, rise, and start the ritual.

As I gradually come to life, I am filled with the day. Perhaps I project - will it be a good one, or will it be filled with uncertainty and stress? As I stand in front of the mirror shaving, I notice my reflection softened by the morning light. I become fascinated by how the rough edges and lines have been smoothed. I lose myself in the vision. I drift away to far-away, fantasy places. I rise above the day and my worries. I've come to delight in the morning light.

Triumph

I was never a show-boater. I despised most show-boaters, those who'd say, "Hey, in your face - I'm Number 1." Perhaps it had to with growing up and hearing people like my Grandfather say, "If you do a good job, people will notice. You don't need to broadcast."

I grew up with a lack of self-esteem. I was rarely confident. On some occasions, just by the lucky fact that I did something that caught people's eyes, and they'd tell me so, I'd think, hey, maybe, I do do some things well. Well, maybe it wasn't that severe, but I do remember living under a certain cloud of doubt that I could rarely shake. Sometimes it held me back, and I didn't know if I'd ever shake it.

I also came to disdain Sloganeers, Hallmark Cards, bumper stickers, and other such things that promoted high self esteem, mostly because I never felt the sentiment. Stuff like "Be good to yourself, " or "You are the creator of your Universe," left me empty, largely because I thought they were bullshit, and people who wrote or printed them just said them to say something they thought others needed or wanted to hear.

Yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of victory. Not major in the annals of Humankind, but my personal-kind. I could go on and give a blow by blow description of the events leading up to this work-related triumph, but I will just say, I came through in the clutch, and it put me on a path I am happy to be on. It's a feeling better than all those bumper stickers put together. It's not like I feel better than so and so or I've sprouted wings and will fly to the Sun. It's a sense of inner peace. The knowledge that I can cope, sustain, and live my life in spite of crap all around me. I really felt it, and there's no going back.

Control

The snow has fallen. It covers the ground outside. I could not have kept it from falling, but I must go to work. It's, perhaps, six inches deep, not the twelve that was predicted. Traffic is light. Every minute or so, a car or truck passes. I will attempt to drive the 22 miles to work. I'd rather stay home, but I'm not totally opposed to work either. We're supposed to have a demo this morning, but who knows? My part works - that's all I can control. The other parts of the day will fall in place, with or without me.

Patience

Up until Monday, it was a lusciously liberating time. The anxiety and stress that existed was gone. There was still the knowledge that all was not over, but it was a welcome break, and I was reveling in it. Monday, it all ended.

I tried to remain open to change. I did my best to maintain hope. I said, give it a week, then make a judgement. Maybe things will change? But it's hard for old habits to die, and I knew she, most of all, is very resistant. It's not her nature to admit to the reality of things. She has a vision, and she will stick to it no matter what. I find that way very depressing, and so, I felt depressed with their return.

For the first few days, she seemed to slow down and back off, then I came back from work on Wednesday. She was systematically setting the table in the way she envisioned it should be. I cringed. It was just the tip of the iceberg. To the unacquainted eye, it's an act of generosity, but for those who really know her, it's a way to control. Everything has to be the way she wants it. If not, she will do what it takes to wrestle that control away. The whole business is exhausting.

I've made a pledge not to get into with her. It only reflects badly on me. I will do my best to help, but I will not submit to the wackiness. I'm present for certain duties, but detached for others. That's how I will get through the next few months, and it's not entirely Hell. Certainly, I remain open to positive outcomes. I will do my best to contribute to those. Patience is a virtue, and I am learning.

Peace of mind

When caught up in life's dilemmas and fevers, it's hard to imagine a sense of tranquility. It's easy to get caught up in the feelings of the moment. Perhaps peace of mind is less of the momentary experience, but the knowledge that it will come, and maintaining a sense of balance even in the most challenging of times.

Oh, Christmas Tree...

This morning I brought down the Christmas tree. I took it apart, actually. It's a fake with an aluminum folding base, a plastic trunk the size of a thick broomstick. It has holes drilled in it so that you can systematically insert coat hanger sized ends of the branches from top to bottom. Once it's put together, it looks as real as a fake tree can look - not too bad.

I almost didn't put the tree up. Christmas seemed like an overbearing, over-perfumed aunt. Even seeing her once a year, is too much. There seemed very little to celebrate. My step-father, who's in the last stages of Alzheimer's, was out of the house, ferried between care facilities and hospitals in a never ending battle to find a cure for a series of infections. My nephew, who last year, provided the child's p.o.v, is now living in Japan. Why put up the tree, I thought, but my mother kept insisting. I kept brushing her off, but one Sunday night about two weeks before Christmas, my girlfriend said, "Hey, why don't we put it up?" Again, I balked. Then I thought, why not - it's something to do to fill the time. I turned on some Jazz on the radio, made hot chocolate, and from the basement, we brought up the ornaments and the tree, and started assembling it.

Little by little, I got lost in the moment. I even spontaneously smiled. What at first looked like something a Woodpecker poked holes into, turned out to be a not-too-shabby fully-decorated and lit expression of the season. I didn't want to get into that train of thought. I figured leave well enough alone. There's enough over-blown sentiment associated with Christmas for the entire Universe. Yet, it did feel good to smile. It was okay to feel like that - not too shabby, and that's how I left it.

Christmas and New Year's Eve came and went. Both times were low-keyed and satisfying.  As much as there was to be sad about, there was much to celebrate. This morning, I drove my daughter to the airport so she could take her flight back to Seattle. I was sad seeing her go. Yes, life is a series of hellos and good-byes, never easy, but inevitable.

When I arrived back home, I looked at the Christmas tree, and thought, it's time. Decoration by decoration, piece by piece, I put it all into boxes, brought them down to the basement again. When I went back to the living room, I stared at the empty spot where the Christmas tree had been. That night my girlfriend and I put it up, it truly caught me off guard. I wanted to hate the thing, but I came to embrace it and the season it symbolizes. Rather than be sad for things passed, I look forward to more good times and good spirits. We all need something to believe in and hope for.

This morning,

after viewing Facebook posts by Brian, Maria, Linda, Pia, Thomas, Thomas, Chris, Greg, Virgi (and, yes, I visited yours - sorry, only so much time to mention it- next time), I discovered a video of a proposal gone wrong. The still before I clicked 'play' had all the makings of  one of history's greatest cliches.

A young guy, early twenties, in a mall, pre-Christmas, crowd gathered around, falls to a knee before his girlfriend. He puts a microphone to his mouth, and begins uttering words that makes a Hallmark Card seem like Dostoevsky.

On cue, a trio, two acoustic guitarists and a singer, fall in place behind her. Suddenly, from out of the right frame, a triple Smart Car sized train replete with Engineer and passengers zooms through the frame. The guys is thrown off, stumbles, then recovers, and begins, once again, delivering his Barry Manilow-drenched-I-can't-live-without-you ditty.

The musicians begin to play. The girlfriend, wide-eyed and stuttering, bends down, and attempts to pull the mic from his hands. She pleads with him to stop, but the guy hangs on to the mic, and continues his speech. She lets go of the mic, rights herself up.

There is a long pause through which he continues speaking. She seems to resolve herself to the fact that he will not stop. For a moment, it seems that she will be a good sport, and hear him out, but in a quick instant, she pulls back an open hand, then slaps him across the face.

He falls down. She turns, rushes out of the frame. The crowd gasps. The musicians stop playing. The young man, ass on ground, touches his face, looks up shocked. The world seems to come to a momentary pause.

At first, I thought, good for her, he needed that. Then I thought, what a brat she was. Didn't she realize the length he went to to put everything together? Then I thought, how well did he know this girl - why set himself up for heart break - was he that stupid? Why in a mall? Why at Christmas-time? Why not in a dive after five pitchers of beer and Pasty Cline singing "I Fall to Pieces" on the juke-box? That's how I would have done it. Yes, that's how I did it. Then again, I was twice married and twice divorced. What is love? Why do people act the way they do? It's so confusing. Let me take Pepito for a walk in the woods, and contemplate that. Or... maybe, let's just enjoy the woods, and let people do as they do.