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TOMORROW
Many say that the end of the worldis upon us, that we will allbe replaced by electronics,but of that I have no fear,for electronics may claimto be smarter than we are,but if you’ve ever triedto interconnect or network them,you know that half of the timethey will fail miserablyand even in those rare caseswhere they work…
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MOVING
When we tell friendsand acquaintances that weare moving up the coast,they look at us quizzically. We think they wonder whywe are leaving our friends,a world we have come to know,for a place so alien to us. We tell them that was by farthe hardest part, letting goof those we treasure, hopingthey will soon come to…
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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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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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KEEPING FOCUS
It is of little surprise that we find this a dizzying world, for we always try to look forward, but since the future is often vague, we try and keep one eye on the past to understand what our other eye is poorly seeing. The mind does not care to be pulled in two directions…
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KEMBO’S TRANSMIGRATION 鐵笛倒吹 六十七
Awakening in the morning when you first see the sun and the dew resting on the leaf which eye are you using. When you stare into the mirror through what eye do you see, and what eyes stare back at you. When you see the deer lying in the road which eye do you use.…
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AMONG THE MISSING
We can sit for a time, and speak of our pains, how they cause us to stop and look inward while the world proceeds on it’s axis, in a slow march through time and space, and we share the anger and anguish of our too fallible bodies which time reclaims in slow progression. We do…
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NO REPLY
You must be home now, or somewhere you can answer my call, and the busy signal or disembodied voice, purporting to be you can only mean that this very moment if you are calling me the busy signal or disembodied voice purporting to be me is giving you a momentary frustration rivaling my own. This…
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SINGLE CUT
Words have geographic homes and here old favorites seem ill at ease, fitting poorly into thoughts that demand their presence. I use them regardless, but we both know that they will hide their shadings, but in a world where words are the last option, we both know that I have no alternative but to turn…
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WITH PEN IN HAND
You never read the ultimate autobiography which doesn’t exist unless you live in an Oulipian world. You can write up to the moment Of your death, and we would, if begrudgingly, conceded the last moments incompleteness, but you cannot write a true and complete autobiography without falling into the recursive abyss where everything that you…
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an old writer and his words 