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ONE MORE, MORE
That there is another shootingcomes as no surprise,it is commonplace now, expectedand there are only questions:how many this time, whatkind of weapon was used, whatmotivated the shooter to do it. What does it say when we definemass killing as requiring threeor more dead bodies in one place. The body of the single victimis no less…
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ACCESSIBILITY
Technology has afforded those of uswith impairments the abilityto more fully participatein the world around us. However we can never lose sight,a painful use of the phrasein my case, of its imperfections. Perhaps it is merely anticipatingthe future of our species, as whenthe phones captioning decideda somewhat elided Marsha and Barrywas in fact Martian berries.As…
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WITH KNOWING
With knowledge comes somethingbut I cannot remember whatmy mother told me it was, orperhaps it was a teacherwho said it, but I can’t hopeto tell which one it was, Icannot remember someof their names or in what gradeit might have been said.I don’t think it was in collegeor graduate school since by thenit was assumed…
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A MOMENT
It is 1952, April, and Iam handed to the woman.I am wrapped in a thin blanket,the tall man is standing beside her.I do not recall this, but thisis how it must have happened,she finally a mother, hea father despite infertility.I do not recall her, the womanwho perhaps never held meonce I exited her body, whohid…
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WORDS, WORDS, WORDS
They can have sharp edgesthat wound on contact, some cutsso deep they leave lasting scars. They can get stuck in the throatuntil you feel you can no longerbreathe, no longer cry out for help. They can lie there, anaggregate always acretingand yet rejecting any meaning. Or they can, carefully chosenpresent great beauty, offerhope, promise freedom.…
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THE SAINT OF UNCOUNTED NAMES
A desert again,always a desertand she the saintof uncounted names,her crying eases, nosmile appears for thisMadonna of the coyotes,her orange-orbed eyesshuttered against theslowly retreating sun.Once her tears wateredthe desert sands, mixedwith the blood of a Christnow long forgotten, trans-substantiated into a spiritwe formed in our image,no longer we in his.The Blessed Motherwatches, holding hope,holding space,…
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SAYING AND SAYING AND SAYING
At least once again this morningsome talking head commentatortold me that it goes without sayingand then said whatever it wasthat went without sayingfor ten minutes, twice repeatingthe thing that went without saying. I trust he will become awarethat he and his ideas will,henceforth, go without seeingby me and hopefully others.But I guess that last commentwould…
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COMING BACK
He appears, rising from the horizonthe sun at his back, as if a miragetaking physical shape and form. He approaches slowly, your eyesstraining to separate himfrom the sun’s growing glow. You wonder if his is a holy manrobed and with a staff, walkingto announce his long awaited return. As he grows closer, you realizehe is…
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DEEP
Deep beneath the Arctic icethe whale songs shimmerin the harsh lightof a frozen sun.We strive to hear them,hear nothing, hear onlyour thoughts echoingthrough cavernous memories.With thoughts of what was,what we wish had been,we are ambient noisein a universe whichcradles hope, craves silence.Dolphins dream of dayswhen the sea was theirs,lives lived in a slow paradisea world…
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CALLING
In the dark heart of nighttime is suddenly frozen,the clock’s hands stalactitesand stalagmites, unyieldingdenying the approach of morning,leaving the sun imprisonedunder the watchful gazeof its celestial wardens. It is then you appear,call out to me, beg mebe silent, not askingthe lifetime of questionsI have accreted, providingmy own hopes andimagination for answers,but you have faces, notthose…
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an old writer and his words 