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GOOD LUCK WITH THAT
The fortune cookies of my childhoodwere far more interesting, or somy memory would have it.The cookies offered wisdomof the East, or so it seemedto a 10-year-old, but perhapsit was the same mumbo-jumboin the bulk print today, nowthat the cookies, which oncetasted good, unlike today’sorigami cardboard, werefolded by hand, and therewere no lotteries then, sothere was…
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FINAL TEST
If he were graded solelyon effort, he would havereceived a B+ but life doesn’tallow such a narrow view. He had no father, no modelso he stumbled through lookingat others, unsure which were rightwhich were botching the job. He bought an ancient firstbaseman’s glove from Goodwillthe only left-handed glove they hadand I taught him to use…
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STOIC
He will do it again tomorrow as he did yesterday and each day before that for as long as he can remember. He would like not to have to do it, but he knows he must, just as he knows the outcome will be almost the same, just the slightest of changes imperceptible from day…
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SYMMETRY
There is a certain perfectsymmetry in both lifeand death. We do not rememberthe moment at whichwe were born. We will not rememberthe the moment at whichwe will die. We did not fearthe moment at whichwe were born why then should we fearthe moment at whichwe will die?
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ON ARRIVING
They arrive after a long flightfrom tyranny, from oppressionfrom the nightmare of endlessfear, from hunger, from faithdenied, from the bottomlessdepths of poverty, scarredmemories etched in their souls,hoping for an ending as muchas wishing for a new beginning.They have been here, a newgeneration, raised on the stories,versed in the painful history,still residual anger bornof love for…
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OF THE CHILD
How many times have weheard someone intonethe never ending expression:“in the best interests of the child.” Never, I imagine, has anyoneasked the child what he or shethought was in their best interest,for children, we assume, cannotknow what is in their interest. A child would gladly tell youbut an adult would often disagree,anchored to the memoryof…
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SPRING
She says her favorite monthis May, when spring’s gripis tightest, but most of allshe cherishes the rain.She is intimate with the rain,there is a privacy that onlyshe can concede, if she wants.She can take a drop of rainand it is hers alone, she needonly share it with the sky,it is always clean on her tongue.She…
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LUNA’S SONG
Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…
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ONE DAY
We stood trapped betweenslack-jawed and reverentlooking at the woman sittingcross-legged outside the doorwaylovingly fashioning a pot,her gnarled fingers gentleon the yielding clay. Others this day fashionedrings and pendantssimple tools on silverand one of a kind treasuresthey would lay outon blankets hoping wewould want morethan just a photograph. Our day on the Taos Puebloended too early,…
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HEY TEACH
She is long departed I imagine,and she would have had nomemory of me given the numberwho passed through her roomin the decades she stood impartingthe sort of knowledge that wassomehow tucked away, notforgotten, for it bubbled forthyears later, the aha moment. I could not forget her, whyperhaps she was a key to my passwords, the firstquestion…
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an old writer and his words 