Monday, February 28, 2022

Poem: Climate Change

 

Climate Change

 

a sob of trees,

whipped and slippery,

gropes stone clouds,

their branches gripping

a multi-armed, multi-thighed

onslaught of wind,

twigs serve as fingernails,

raking to crash

 

and 


trunks crane as xylem snaps,

fate itself writhing 

to groan from the vehemence

of human avarice.


and the trees go down,

down to bark and bare fangs.


hisses of wind 

through viper knots of nude roots that strangle. 


the grove gone.

cruelty eats worlds.

the future drowned

in torrents of the stupid.





=========================







7/8/24


 12/2/23 ... mods for flow


https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2022/02/28/ipcc-united-nations-climate-change-adaptation/


Thursday, February 24, 2022

Poem: Old Sailor

 

 

Old Sailor

 

he sags,

each wrinkle a route on the map of memory,

every age spot a star that devoured a wish. 

a few silver tufts

are the only limbs he has left

to dance with storms.

 

his palm cups a cane

fallen from a tree he climbed as a boy.

his ocean-blue wool  

reminds him of a long-ago girl

who said the tide would lead 

as it retreated like the hem of her dress.

 

his skeleton, he thinks of a ship 

cannoned with muscle, ligaments the rigging 

which suffers such tatters, his spine

a crooked even barnacled mast.


his eyes--such foggy compasses now--wander.

his legs heavy anchors

bereft of allegiance to current and wind.

 

and yet still, when it rains, such drops!

how they sojourn

across the countryside of his cheeks.

and as all must do, they soon diminish,

meek of glow, so it must be, 

led by moonlight

as night sinks into water.

 


===================




7/8/24







War is here.  I sent an op-ed to a few newspapers.  Aside from that, poetry.

Sunday, February 20, 2022

Poem: Aftermath

 

Aftermath

 

in a forest as cursed as brittle bones, 

trunks of the motherless 

lay supine near laughing geese,

while wind combs

a paper-birch bark of shivered curls,

howlsome in its error.

 

i kneel,

touching the fresh fissures

in the failed elderly resistance.


how did this centenarian wood

resist for so long before a cracked face

stretched forth across its own midsection, 

only to leer, shredded rictus sharp--

leer up at the storm

which splintered to savage?




============




7/8/24 ...






World's on the brink of war, Russia into Ukraine.  Could be the last.

Beware the fascist, authoritarian macho.


5/15  "resistance" replaces "wood"

5/15 "the octogenarian wood" replaces "it"

Thursday, February 17, 2022

Poem: Holding a Rock

 

Holding a Rock

 

whisper in my palm,

a vestige of echoed moan,

resonance long lost

of keepsake and tryst;

 

of magma lost to surrender, 

a vigor crimson-primeval

no longer afloat

in the bliss-fed pulse of a planet.

 

no longer the ache of gods,

their molten blood,

a union tectonic and ardent,

immortal, incessant, 


no longer to incandesce.


no longer bold, 

the verve of the unmeasured,

no longer ripe and redolent,

harvest of fulgent hopes, 

no longer revered or brave.

 

 


=============

Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Poem: Old Writer

 

Old Writer

 

every thud

taxes this furtive old pen 

ensconced in human weather.


yes, this cocoon, it can tire,

its aorta a mortar-and-pestle,

grinding some aloof thought.

 

inspiration, so stingy,

pouches its little frissons,

lest windy wishes tear them away.

 

that final chapter throbs deep in a ventricle,

folded up in a nutshell,

within the secrecy of monarch wings.

 

and yet

 

what final rapture, when it lances out,

resplendent and airborne--

 

only if skies are sunny,

and the facade of grace and calm

gratefully fades.

 

 

 

=================

Thursday, February 10, 2022

Poem: Hands Freeze

 

Hands Freeze

 

my fingers no longer onboard,

rejecting the design,

callous toward volition.


on strike, protesting the boss, 

perched as crooked cripples stuck, 

vulgar in some harsh hunger:

claws of a vulture

needy to plunge into warm ooze.

 

they are bars of a cage, 

insurgent to trespass common sense

and disprove every philosopher

who thought the soul real--

 

for i am nothing, construct of candles,

cogworks under follicle and pore,

a creature of travail and spark;


one by one, the sparks cease,

snuffed by the runty staves atop my palms;

victims of that mechanic known as Physics, 

a frostbitten Shepherd, 

who herds my numb thoughts home.




===============================

Saturday, February 5, 2022

Reflection on the latest (post WWII) march of fascism (warning: very grim; mood killer)

 

If you look back over my blog, a general theme is that life is really unfair.  Moreover, humans make it much more unfair with our behavior.  We magnify the brutalities (and blisses) in nature. 

I am sure I don’t do enough.  I try to write beautiful things.  I teach.  I philosophize about our potential to seek the Good.  But I could do more.

My problems are ‘1st world problems’.  The majority of people on this planet would love to have my problems.  And yet I complain.

At bottom, I’m a vampire, sucking down life to live, just like all us humans.  I usually hide from my part, just like everyone else. 

Our monstrous side may take us all down--if only because we don’t have the courage to face it. 

Still, I think it pretty amazing how far humanity progressed ethically.

I’m proud that I live in a country where human rights made serious inroads into prejudice--even though that prejudice is now destroying my country.

The deck has always been stacked against us fleshy animals.  Our own bodies torture us if we don’t eat.  And we have to eat constantly.  We get insecure and lonely, which means we have exploits used by demagogues to herd us in pens of ignorance.

On top of everything else, some of us, like Donald Trump, are “malignant narcissists,” which makes survival, let alone decency, that much harder.

So, it’s a big deal that we’ve come pretty far.  That we changed our collective behavior for the good--at least for a while.  In this brutal universe, sadly, that alone is an impressive accomplishment.

... I won't say "was" yet.


==============

My philosophy is worked out in turgid detail here:


Better Vampires, Saner Werewolves

==============

Poem: Fence

 

Fence

 

each day raises a barrier 

between the trivial and the vivid,

frosted by worry and haze.


a barrier that hides art and truth.

it is glue on every wing,

darksome to joys under the sun.

 

i hone poetic words

on a whetstone of years.

somewhere close by, beauty waits lonely.

 

the calendar squares,

they age me so fast,

those half-formed bureaucracies.


the shadows in their perpendiculars

creep their dingy cellophane

across the dawn.




===================================




7/8/24







5/15 .. Several word changes

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Poem: Romance

 

Romance

 

curves of burgundy,

full moons of crystal

played by candelight.


bulb and stem

a daze of coax

as pupils tease.

 

fingers across tablecloth 

slide to blush.

hover.  anticipate.

 

the wine, the spell, 

bridge of touch and stare,

immortality’s dream.






================================









7/8/24