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REFLECTIONS
When I gaze into the mirrorI see an aging man that I knowshould not be me and yetI know that he could only be me.I want to know just what I didto fall into disfavor with the gods,why they stripped me ofthe immortality I knewI once had, now gone.I know there is no getting itback…
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ALL BETS ARE ON
It is a game, of course, and one you cannot win. The question is how much will you lose if you buy into the game. The odds favor the house. There would not be a house if the odds did not favor it. But you know you must play the game. There is no other…
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CATALOG
The cat is a fastidious clerk,aware of all new items as they arriveand cataloging them as soonas they are placed in the home.Chairs in particular must beclosely inspected, tested forsleepability and comfort, and yetall seem to pass the test initiallythough some are abandonedquickly, giving way to othersthat have met the test of time.It is much…
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ELLISON WAS HERE
I still remember sitting raptly listening to youread a story you promised would bein your next collection, Harlan, or certainlythe one after that, after all you were a writerand without writing you were a marginalcharacter in the story of a city given overto film and television and you were no actor.You were fearless, you told…
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ONCE TOO MANY
He remembered his mother taking him to the opera once. It was an experience he hoped never to repeat in life and, man y years on, he had been successful in not doing so again. The opera was sung in English but he felt that only made it worse, for if was was sung in…
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MUSEUMS NO MORE
Travel guides always wantto send me to museums of art,of history, of culture, of science.I appreciate their guidance but Iwould prefer to spend my timevisiting zoos, looking at animalsand ignoring the placardspainfully detailing what I am seeing.I have been to countlessmuseums and while each offeredbeauty and knowledge, eachdemanded that I needed to learn,to interpret, to…
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THIS TOO
When I hear “this tooshall pass,” I hopeat least for a whilethey are not talking about me.The flowers outsidedo not ask such questions,too busy drawing eyesto really care.And the now deadpalm tree in the yardhas become stoicjust watching,always watching.
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HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU
The mirror and I broke up this morning. We’d been together quite a while but I was tired of its refusal to show the real me and not some aged version the mirror created. The mirror, of course as it always did, said it was not at fault, but it always says that. It tried…
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SEPPUKU
It is difficult to acceptthat the glutinous blobcongealed on the plate beneaththe salt lick worthy pilesof ill cooked vegetablesand fried tofu now limpwas ever related tothe swaying stalks in neat rowsbetween flooded furrows,under the watchful eyea Fujiyama and theShinto gods residing there.What would the old farmerbent over by time thinkif he could see whatlay before…
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an old writer and his words 