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FINITE LOOP
As it turns out, lifeis an ongoing process of accretionand deconstruction, of growthand eventual shrinkage. I started with 20 teethI am told, and got to 32,only to fall back to 23thanks to orthodontia and wear. We start with 270 or morebones, but we knit that numberdown to 206, or in my case under200, the orthopaedist’s…
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BANDAGE
She wants to know if it is even possibleto make a bandage large enoughto bind the wounds we have inflictedon a planet which we were toldwas ours over which we wereto exercise our wise dominion. She says it isn’t fair that she will beleft to try to clean up the messthat we have made for…
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SHELVED
They speak of me, never to me,with terms like breakage, as thoughlife, mine at least, is a glass bottleon a shelf with so many others,and a certain percentage are pre-assumed to break and be discardedand no one will bat an eyelash. To them I am nameless, one of many,stock in trade, with no provenance,or at…
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T-CK T-CK
I cannot determine whymy clock only tocks, as ifsomewhere back timeits ticks beat a hasty retreat. My life is increasingly likethat, a growing series of disconnects,as if life itself, outside of meis enduring a progressive dementia. Perhaps I shouldn’t complain,for both time and I knowthat every one of those ticksis owed to me and I…
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THE SUN ROSE
The sun rose this morning,as if the day were not in anyway out of the ordinary, daynumber far too large to countfor those with finite capacity. The birds begin, their harmoniouscacophony, though they thinkit their lauds, matins of reflectionburned off with the dew underthe gentle glare of a morning sun. They watch us begin to…
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INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY
It is easier to think about deathon a wintery evening, when so muchof life slips into stasis, and there isnothing to do but concede your mortality,and with good fortune, then slipinto sleep before being lostin a sea of depression. I must be thankful for my dreamsfor they keep the night from becomingthe little death of…
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PERCUSSION
After years of going to live jazzI’ve honed my skills to a fine level.I still know next to nothingabout the intricacies of the music,five years of classical piano andI barely understand Bach and Mozart. But I know where to look, whobears watching in the combo,and it isn’t the trumpeter, hewith his ballooning cheeks, someclownish bellows,…
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I SPEND THE EMPTY HOURS
I spend considerable time thinkingabout what it is that I am, what is I,whether Descartes’ God or Spinoza’scould possibly exist, or must if I can havemeaning beyond self-reflection, needinga godly mirror, and image reflected.Cogito, on what basis can I draw that conclusionwhat logical proof, carefully constructed willnot fall under the weight of the axiom, cogito…
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WINDOW VIEW
He knew she had a specialmeaning for him the first timehe saw her, from his usual seatby the window in the diner, waitingfor his bagel and cream cheese, and she at the table alongthe window of the Starbucks acrossthe street, which might as wellhave been an ocean, so unlikelywas either to make a crossing. By…
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THIRST
A man stands on the peak of a hill,staring down into the valley below him,but it is not clear what he is staring at. Standing in the valley, by the bankof a slowly flowing river, I stareup the tall hill to its peak, and see the clouds gather around the manas if soon to swallow…
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an old writer and his words 