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SONGWRITER
Bob Dylan is, to the best of my knowledge,the only songwriter to successfully rhymeoutrageous and contagious, which doesn’texplain why I knew I could never bea successful songwriter in this life. The explanation is far simpler, it was whenLeonard Cohen served me tea and apricots,said he hated the river even living in Montrealand said I should…
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GROUNDED
it was so much easier when I could stillimagine myself a bird, untetheredand free to take flight on a whim. In dreams I often flew, no Icarusbut a raptor, peering down, seeingwith a clarity the earth denied me. Now my roots have taken holdin the enmeshing soil plunged deepand spread tendrils anchoring me, and even…
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THE MIND’S BLIND EYE
He imagined the end was coming,but that was his problem, imaginingfor it was about all he was capable of doing. He started small, near visualizationmore than imaginings, but he grew moreproficient with practice, his ideas his conceptions of an increasinglygrander scale, until from a single threadhe could weave a tapestry that boggled even his mind,…
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A DAY
a day,clouds drop rainreplacing tearslocked insidestones and clothred and blueunseparatedstill worlds apartorderly ranksall at attentionand silencethundering angera mad worldsoaked in peaceonly untilmidnight. Publsihed in New Feathers Anthology (Summer 2020)http://www.newfeathersanthology.com/a-day.html
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ON ARRIVAL
This morning arrivedwith a painful slowness, the slothof irregular dreams refusing to concedeto the light struggling to creep aroundthe blinds that hide the oversize windows. It had been that sort of night,sleep arriving and departing witha frustrating lack of constancy, my bodyuncertain of its proper placement ,the mattress offering no easy solutions. Conceding the failure…
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CUTTING THOUGHTS
My wife pauses by the placardin the nature preserve and tells methat what I have been calling grassesare in fact a sedge known as sawgrass. She points out the warning thatit’s serrated on the edge and earnedits name from those who graspedit without knowing or thinking first. I feign listening but she knowsmy mind is…
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WHAT’S IN A NAME?
He only wants to knowmy spiritual name, “your falseworld name is of no matter.” I tell him I have only one name,the one my parents gave me,and it has worked to this point quite well, and no one has eversuggested I might need another,although my Jewish friends have two. “No,” he says, “your spiritual nameisn’t…
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MEOW
Again today I am inside this so calledbox, unchanged perhaps, but whois to say, not you, still Schrodinger’s cat. Don’t bother to ask if I am deador alive, for like the Master Daowu, youcan bet that I won’t say, so there. And do not assume I know what I am,for if I were dead, I’d…
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FATHERING
Recalling it now, the sight had to be absurd,and I suspect it was at the time,but as its beneficiary then. I darednot say anything, I’d mastered that already. My father in khakis and a poor excusefor a flannel shirt, Goodwill no doubt,but you had to have one just for occasionslike this, not that they would…
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ANSWER SWIFTLY
The question you will be called uponto answer requires careful thought,but you will be forced to respond. Would you rather live the restof your life in Lilliput or Brobdingnab? It may seem rather silly, for neitheris likely to occur, but that is not the pointand you cannot avoid responding. Of course you will have to…
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an old writer and his words 