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ON ITS HEAD
Death has an uncanny knackfor turning normalcy on its head.My mother was never readyat the time my parents had to leaveeither selecting outfitsor jewelry, the right shoes,as my father stood by fidgetingand looking at his watch,knowing better than to say anything.Yet she left without notice,no delays at all, just suddenly goneso unlike her to make…
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EPITAPH FOR ANOTHER DAY
When I write the storyof my life, it will not beme standing by the seastaff in hand, waitingfor the waters to part.It will be sand, endlessseas of sand, piledaround my feet.I will not recount ten plaguesfor there is only onethat matters at alland it was notterribly exciting,no generation perished,we weren’t overrunwith frogs or verminsave the…
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CONCEIVE OF THIS
No child, no youthwants to imagine the momentof his or her conception.Now, that is the moment of personhoodin some places, a moment whentwo cells become one and isa life of its own, but it isn’tthe convergence of sperm and ovumwe avoid, but the act leading to it.When you are an adopteeand only later in life…
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HYMNAL
Open to page 147 of your hymnals.There is nothing to sing therefor the words of promise oncefound there have witheredand faded, carried off on nowtoxic winds, so hold your breathor whatever heaven you imaginewill be too soon be approachingat a speed exceeding imagination. You don’t remember how you got here,things happened around youwhen you weren’t…
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ONE MORE, MORE
That there is another shootingcomes as no surprise,it is commonplace now, expectedand there are only questions:how many this time, whatkind of weapon was used, whatmotivated the shooter to do it. What does it say when we definemass killing as requiring threeor more dead bodies in one place. The body of the single victimis no less…
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WHITE BREAD
He was nondescript, innocuous. He named his dog Dog. His cat was called Cat. He grew daring with his parakeet and named it Wings. He wore beige from head to toe. Even his Sunday best, his “weddings and funerals suit” he called it, was beige. People wondered if his underwear was beige. He swore that…
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THE OLD ROCKER
I reached the point in lifewhere I know the Byrds were right,I was so much older then,I’m younger than that now, andfor good measure Jethro Tull knewI was too old to rock ‘n’ rollbut far too young to die.And yet I am still inchoate,a product of the Big Bang, stellardust accreted temporarily.And the Webb Space…
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LEFT HANGING
Why is it that so many songwritershave an intense need, a desire really,to leave the listener wonderingin frustration at how the story ends. I can forgive Leonard Cohen for hisHallelujah for no one is quite certainhow many verses he wrote, althoughmore than 80 seems to be the number,so perhaps a missing one or tenconcludes the…
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BRAD AND I
Its painful to now say itbut perhaps Uncle Samgot it partially right whenhe shaved our heads andhad us march aroundLackland Air Force Baseas the war raged on in Vietnam,but when you talk about Uncle Sam,the bar is set rather low. We did all look ridiculous,from the large guy who oncewas the town bully for certainto…
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A MOMENT
It is 1952, April, and Iam handed to the woman.I am wrapped in a thin blanket,the tall man is standing beside her.I do not recall this, but thisis how it must have happened,she finally a mother, hea father despite infertility.I do not recall her, the womanwho perhaps never held meonce I exited her body, whohid…
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an old writer and his words 