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DYING TO KNOW
Last week my doctor saidI really needed to updatemy Advance Directiveand Living Will. There isnothing more joyous thantelling doctors whento pull the plug and let youslip away into the crematorium.And now that I did, I realizeI must redo it for it is onlywhen I can no longer writea poem that I will be sufficientlyfar gone…
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RISING TIME
Night rises slowlyfrom tangled rootsdragging ocher and rustfrom reluctant trees,promising only winter.We cannot see this,we sense only time eroding,slipping off untilthe trees are naked.They want onlyto hide themselvesin a shimmering gownof snow, recallingtheir verdancy, imagininganother season, a seasonof hope, a seasonof consecration, of light,of resurrection.We stand emotionallystripped on the banksof the stream into whichwe cannot…
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WHY, OH WHY
He was awash in questions. What, he wanted to know, did they use to cut the mustard? A knife seemed excessive, or did they mean some lesser powdered spice. Why was the cat in the bag? How do you learn anything by bruising your hand on books? Do buckets cause foot infections that kill you?…
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WHENCE
When you ask me from wheremy family comes, do notlook surprised when I answerthat it depends on the directionof the wind, but with natureas no more than a passive observer.In my case it is the fickle windsof war and diplomacy that markmy origins, my maternal rootsdeeply planted in soil Lithuanian orperhaps Russian or briefly Polish.And…
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RINZAI’S TRUE MAN
If I ask youwho you are, howwill you answer?If you give me your name,that is not the answerfor your name is a wordand you are not a word.If you tell me whatyou have done, thatis not the answer,for those are actions.If you sit silentlyon the cushionthat is the answer. A reflection on Case 38 of…
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NEXT UP
Back in the day,that day being the last timeI attended an open mic,odd since most are intimate enoughthat no microphone is provided,I stood at the lecternand looked carefully at the audiencethat was mine for the next few minutes.I wanted to see their responseto me, my clothing choicesand then my words, trying to readthe indecipherable map…
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ONE THING
It is probably a good thinggranddaughter, that you have neverbothered to ask me what one, whatsingular piece of advice I wouldleave you with, not that I amanticipating an imminent departure. It isn’t because I doubt that youwould care about or believe what Ihave to say although I may wellstand corrected if you asked onlyout of…
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ACTION
The question is, he saidwhat we intend to do about itwhen it happens, as it inevitably will. He got no response, had notexpected any response despitethe critical nature of the question. He knew no one wantedto talk about it, nor even to thinkabout its onrushing consequences. But it was the world that hewould inherit from…
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ELAPSED TIME
Time measured outin a slow twistingof a fork, pitchedinto day’s heartbleeding heatas pulses fade.Tequila breezeblows acrossthe verandahpalms rustlingto rhythms of lifebodies snatchedcarried off, placesunseen, unimagined.Wings float upliftedher face in sleepserene, feline.Night’s morphine dripedges into sleepdreams of her touchcloses eyesto phoenix’s ascension. First published in The Berlin Literary Review, Issue 01, May 2023https://theberlinliteraryreview.com/issue-one/
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FOR SPACIOUS SKIES
It is a clear sign of my agethat I recall the hours we spentlearning about America, whatit stood for, how it was welcomingto immigrants from everywhere,why America was the greatestcountry in the world, and weincredibly naively ate it up.Vietnam brought us a large doseof the ugly reality of the modern age.Half a century on that…
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an old writer and his words 