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MY PAIN
I want so to say that i feelyour pain, but we’d bothknow that was an utter lie. I can tell you abut my pain,describe it at great length,and I will be utterly disappointedwhen you admit you can onlyimagine it as a reflectionof your own pain, which Iam certain doesn’t beginto rise to the level of…
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LANGUAGE
The Hawaiian language has 12 letterswhich is important to understandparticularly if you consider writingan apostrophic poem, not to a personor thing, but to a letter of the alphabet. It might help to explain why Hawaiianpoets never write about zoology orthe role that zygotes play in life, andleave zymurgy to the haoles, fornative Hawaiians prefer a…
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ERSE WHILE
Growing up, I never imaginedthat I was Lithuanian, I mean Imight have as easily been from Mars. And it was only in my dreamsthat Gaelic was an ancestral tongue,not one my ancestors spoke,at least those who hadn’t yetmade the unthinkable moveto Norfolk and the frigid sea. Now I am all of those, and I knowthat…
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PRACTICE THIS
He is, he claims, a practitionerof feng shui, and will, fora nominal fee, arrange our homein the harmony it requires. His fee, of course, is nominalto him only, and hardly onewe would incur with the expensesof a new home, with twoof too many things, and noneof some necessities, whichour local merchants will providefor their own…
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IT’S ABOUT TIME
My first inclination, in factmy strong desire, when he asks mewhat time it is, is not to consultmy watch, but to say that we livein an age of unprecedented uncertainty,an era of division and incivility,and days fraught with risk thateach might be the last. I know he wants to know the hourand the minute, but…
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THE POEM
The poem, all too often,suffers from a solitariness thatborders on despair, alonein a world that otherwise offersno peace or quiet contemplaton. The poem does not wish this,it prefers to be the centerof attention in the midstof all that is happeningat any given moment. The poem never expectedto have to struggle so muchfor even the smallest…
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WINTER
As I stare out the window and watchthe snow slowly build on the limbsof the now barren crab apple, paintingit with a whiteness that bears heavily,giving the smaller branches a betterview of the ground in which theirfruit of the summer lies buried. I am forced to wonder if the treecontinues to watch me, if its…
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ANGELS
He says he cannot believe in angelsbecause he has never seen one.I do not believe in his sort of angels, but notfor lack of visual confirmation, ratherthat I live in a world that nowis so deeply in need, that an angelmight be our last, best hope, butthe scope of angelic miracles isnot likely wide enough…
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ON THIS NIGHT
On this nighthe walks silentlyinto her dream uninvited,but she is usedto the incursions.On other nights itis she who sidlesup to him in the depthsof dreaming, eachslipping awayahead of dawn.On rare nights eachenters the dreamsof the other, pathscrossing atthe synaptic border.On those nightsshe looks for him,he for her, eachgrows fearfulthe he or shewill be trapped,alone, when…
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WE WERE SPECIAL
We were a special generation,that’s what they told us, and althoughwe had no real idea who they were,we drank the Kool-Aid and believed them. We got liberal educations, weresmarter than our parents,and went off to the wars that theystarted for us, did enough drugsto numb the pain of our existence,and became first class working drones.…
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an old writer and his words 