Tuesday, September 10, 2024

Poem: Cliff

 

Cliff

 

weary basalt

hangs plump over the sea,

cubic honeycomb,

geological snakeskin

shedding shedding

but it takes millennia

to cry in relief.

 

not agile or bright

as ocean or sun

like prometheus pummeled

while water and heat look on

not at all awed

by the patience of a battered martyr.

 

humans

hike climb nibble swarm

take film, photos and selfies 

we make our chirr-word sounds

gone as quick as we generate

mere specks in the gale

of the erosion of the cliff’s dreams.

 

it cries for us

insular in empathy,

each teardrop a foamy splash,

tons and tons in our lifetimes,

but the sadness itself remains,

duly unremittent,

invincible.



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











Entities with empathy on this planet are often surrounded by lack of empathy.

Monday, September 9, 2024

Poem: War Plea (And also a tribute to Kenny Cole)

 

War Plea

 

don’t bark at me with your

black tongues or spit your red. 

don’t carve my name

with bullets into marble.

i was only walking by,

a little angry to find your tank

in my garden,

a bit distressed at becoming a flea

under the fury of your gaze.

 

let me hop away.  i’ll eat

sand and drink stones. 

i’ll pretend my grandfather

didn’t plant fruit trees

near your craters. 

 

i’ll set up shop

in the smallest grave

of shadow, whittle

spoons with parched

old hands, and pray

in ways you’ll never notice

that the hearts of my children

remain sweet as pomegranates.




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






This poem was part of the greatest moment in my poetry career, when the incredible, nationally known artist Kenny Cole asked me to collaborate with him.  And so my poems, as part of his utterly unique vision, ended up in the Zillman Gallery of the University of Maine Museum of Art. 

The name of Mr. Cole's presentation is Parabellum.  The latest review of it appears in the September/October Edition 2024 of Art New England.  As you can see, Parabellum is still potent:

https://artnewengland.com/ed_review/kenny-cole-parabellum-prepare-for-war/  

Mr Cole is an absolute genius across multispatial mental and physical dimensions.  Art within art within art involving hidden secrets and stories.  (see the review above to get a slight idea)

Far and away, the greatest moment I ever received as a poet was due to Mr. Cole asking me to participate.  I have never properly thanked him.  In part, I am notorious for being a hermit; and, also, the whole 'adventure'--which is how I see it--was so stunningly different from the rest of my life that it was like being touched by some higher force of brilliant spirit.  There's no way I could express to Mr. Cole how he tattooed my life.  Maybe he'll find this comment someday, a sweet admirer of his, someone whose soul he forever galvanized.  Thank you, Kenny--but thank you most of all for your ceaseless efforts to combine aesthetics and ethics.  I believe this is essential for the highest, most sublime--and world-saving--artworks.    





Saturday, September 7, 2024

Love

 I feel this sense of doom.  Panic-attacky stuff, not so brute but intransigent and lingering.  Remember me for this:


https://owlwholaughs.blogspot.com/2020/12/poem-love-poem.html

Friday, September 6, 2024

Poem: Montecito Hike

 

Montecito Hike

 

camphor of oleander

musky greenish-blue 

astride freshly cut dust

which cakes the wild leaves

of lupine and radish.

 

osprey-gull birds

figure-eight over acres

of deadlocked pale husks,

tresses straw blonde

on the skulls of clods,

fields and fields and fields of clods;

of tilled dirt so disturbed it shines.

 

a khaki man with runt epaulettes

orders tractors about.

he tosses a braggadocio

of mean sun and cruel earth

from which he will engineer heaven.

 

above his head, ascending

on slopes sanitized and shrubbed,

many, many shingles of fine-kilned clay

roof the broken hills with godly haciendas.




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Wednesday, September 4, 2024

Regarding the Poems

 Thank you for reading the poems!


I've gone back and edited the poems on this blog all the way through 2021.  It was an exhausting cerebral task that took up most of my summer.  However, I'm glad to have done it, for now the poems are much better.  I'm going to start chipping away at 2020, but the fall is a busier time with two classes to teach.

I'd like to believe some of my poems have approached excellence.  I've been at it since I was 16 years old.  And yet I've learned that I cannot be the judge.  Very often I think a poem is 'great' and yet when I come back to it later, my opinion radically shifts.  I live in a constant storm of editing, doubt and, as well, passionate engagement with my muses.  I can only hope my constant work and fervor, embroiled in the chaos of uncertainty and randomness, has some hidden, laudable approach.

As it stands, I will never know.  I may start submitting poems to journals once more, but then again maybe not.  The need for recognition isn't as important or even desperate for me as it was before.  Who knows why.  I perhaps live for my muses now, who I see as greater than me and perhaps as beings beyond me entirely.  Maybe I'm just tired and misanthropic; and see humans, including myself, with too much honesty to stomach public rituals beyond what I already must.

Owl    



PS:

Regarding the political situation, the world hangs on what happens in the US election in November.


"If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher" -- Abraham Lincoln

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

Friday, August 30, 2024

Poem: No

 

No

 

a lifetime of smiles

couldn’t take this away,

as if an atom had exploded

under a jacket of fluff.

 

it didn’t matter anymore,

the obedience

that had left wrinkles under eyes,

 

or the stone-cold anger

that had laid down the law

with the wrath of blame-fisted meteors.

 

once heavy,

a heart pummeled into scars

shone with the lux of a lantern

cutting through its cage.

 

it were as if the moon’s silvery sickle

had reaped a bouquet of wishes,

collecting the stems of fallen stars

to shapechange the world--

 

so much--

farther than dancing footsteps

ever thought could be, leaping,

leaping as they were

in this brilliant earthquake.

 

 


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











8/30  ... mods to last stanza

Monday, August 26, 2024

Poem: Swallow a Camel

 

Swallow a Camel

 

god warped a knothole

while sitting in a nebula, disguised it

as the face of an owl who ferries us;

for we are mice

threading icicles which pierce sunflowers

and vines laden with grapes of tomorrows

bursting into rain,

blossoms of leapfrogging flips,

heat and hurt and cold and laughter,

seasons of eggs and graves and sorrows;

for we are mice who eat ants

and grow their hives into our havens,

where we hide and toil in dull deceitful brutal games;

and we never find the sweet truth, for we are mice,

that beauty costs nothing:


joy wrote love into the fabric of things.

 

for we are mice,

and the owl is what we feed.

 

 

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















'you have filtered the gnat and swallowed a camel'

Saturday, August 24, 2024

Poem: Flies Hitting Glass

 

Flies Hitting Glass

 

knocks and knocks

as futile as they are puny

from tiny varicose eyes

against the window.

 

has the noon sun hidden a hook

which the bluebottles chomp like fish

to spark this mean diorama,

faint echoes of the plight of Tantalus?

 

no angel will argue, come judgement day,

that the illusory hope foisted on the flies

by the human invention of a pane

matters.

 

and, too, God will laugh

just before damming us humans,

saying that all would have been forgiven

if only we had not magnified

the plight of the flies a billion times,

inflicting it upon our neighbors.

 

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














8/25  "spark" replaces "create"

8/24 ... some mods, fairly light 






personally I think it does matter

Wednesday, August 21, 2024

Essay: Keep Your Goodness

Keep Your Goodness


The very last time I talked to my father, he ended the call with, “Keep your goodness.”   Since his death in 2023, I’ve had time to meditate on this.  A simple take is that we humans face key crossroads in our lives, forks of momentous import that alter our intimate souls, and yet also those around us, our environment, and sometimes greater scenarios.  In part, our self-identity is defined by our relationships.  Both to ourselves and others.   Do we or don’t we act with virtue? 

Sometimes a choice is especially urgent and vital.  Exigent moral options delineate lives and fates, branching outward to combine with the decisions of many other people, changing the topology and morphology of Earth.

I am going to focus on an application of this sort of “Keep your goodness.”  The American people hold a current privilege, which is also a grave responsibility and weight:  whether each of us will fight against or instead bow down to the fascist candidate for president of our country, Donald Trump. 

Will we vote and vocalize against him?  Or wither in the silence of acquiescence, or as an outright accomplice to darkness?  

Kit's wisdom will accompany us on this philosophical journey.

 

My father’s background and perspective

My father had a nickname that he always preferred and that was Kit.  As a teenager in the 1940’s,  Kit read Plato’s Dialogues and The Republic.  It sparked in him so much interest that philosophy became his love and vocation.  A graduate of Cornell and tenured professor, he published many articles, as well as two books:  “Unreality: The Metaphysics of Fictional Objects” and “Language, Reality and Mind.”  The cover art for the latter is a 14th century engraving by Andrea Pisano, part of the external wall of the Florence Cathedral.  It depicts Plato and Aristotle in spirited argument.

My father eventually sided with Aristotle, agreeing with him that reality is grounded in the physical though intricate:  embodied in that fusion of matter and mind that we, simply enough, refer to as a person.  Persons (which might include some animals) are the center of things, where it all comes together. 

Plato, unlike Aristotle, did not involve the physical dimension.  He famously likened our existence to that prisoners in a cave, hostages to illusions, who could only see shadows of the true reality outside our grim encasement. 

Both Plato and Aristotle, however, saw humanity’s highest purpose as the pursuit of the Good, and both emphasized the advancement of virtue in the sense of a harmony, whether intrapsychic or social, to cultivate the flourishing of soul and society. 

Compare these views, steeped in ethics, with today’s political and economic zeitgeist, which embraces self-interest in pursuit of power and profit.  The Good is entirely secondary, if not tertiary or non-existent, to this hunger of egoism, in which the modus operandi is to expropriate, dominate, exploit and consume in a theater of ruthless competition. 

My father, following the classic Greek philosophers, believed that our highest purpose was not money or power, but to advance our understanding of the Good.  Always the assiduous scholar, he wrote every day, morning and night.  For the last decade and a half of his life, he strove to finish a book that laid out what he believed to be the best form of government.  In its scope, the project was a grand task, similar to Plato’s The Republic [1]. 

With the Good serving as a strategic sextant, the best government in my father’s estimationis this:  a full-throated democracy that embraces empathy and compassion for each and every person.  In the spirit of Rationalism, the innate dignity of the human condition necessitates an array of benefits, including free healthcare and college, as well as a universal basic income (UBI). 

Many would consider Kit, as many do Plato, an ‘idealist.’  His head in a cloud of lovely ideas and yet oblivious to daily toil, travail, and strife.  In rebuttal, note that free healthcare and college already exist in some countries.  UBI is being tested as I write this, in the United States and elsewhere.  It is not myopic but prescient to seek a better, plausible way of living.  Given the threat of fascism today, it is not only laudable but crucial for the continuance of civilization.

Far too often, cynics, who are both myopic and fallacious, dismiss the possibility of progress, waving the red herring of ‘human nature'--as if this mysterious term consigned us to automatic damnation.

 

Democracy or Fascism

Kit was troubled by the rise of fascism, especially here in the United States, spearheaded by one Donald Trump.  As I write this, Trump could win the Presidency in November, which I believe will destroy our republic, and along with it the establishment of human rights that my father cherished. 

At the moment, however, social momentum is with his challenger, Kamala Harris, who if elected will be the first woman and also South Asian President.  The USA has had a Black President before (Barack Obama) and so Harris, who is also Black, would be the second. 

Her victory would indicate that Obama was no fluke.  It would lay a second steppingstone of precedent, thereby forming a trendline into the future, heading away from White patriarchy.  It would, furthermore, demonstrate that the racist backlash to Obama’s victory in 2008 was not a death knell for progressive freedoms.

A Harris victory would reinvigorate and re-establish the foundation of the United States as a democracy; and thereby lead the world forward ethically.  We are in desperate need of moral maturity.  It is our only way to manage the hydra necks of technology, which elongate and branch, year by year, to break new barriers in wondrous yet fretsome sectors:  robotics, genetics, nanotech, artificial intelligence, hypersonic nukes, and more.

Imagine this hydra of technology in the hands of someone like Donald Trump, a narcissistic dictator whose only loyalty is to his own malignant, disordered ego; whose ignorant modus operandi is might-makes-right, schoolyard bullying, and quid-pro-quo nihilism.

I have witnessed how quickly and fecklessly the leaders of the Republican Party succumbed to the threat and the seduction of fascism.  Fascism offers them status in a corrupt hierarchy, if they bootlick the ‘messianic’ leader.  It threatens them with violent expulsion, if they dare protest even a scintilla.  I have witnessed the metastasis of Evil in our country over a ten-year span:  the hate- and fear-mongering that spurs invidious ‘otherisms’:  the rhetorical reduction of human beings to “animals,” “vermin” and “poisons.” 

This evil rhetoric encourages and fosters violence through what is now commonly called “stochastic terrorism.”   When you rave in animosity to an audience of tens of millions of fanatic followers, decreeing that certain sorts of people deserve to die, a small yet very real percentage of those followers will take hateful action, whether to harass, assault or murder.

 

The Good

I believe that a significant part of what Kit meant by “Keep your Goodness” concerned democracy.  Furthermore, he would approve of the capital letter in “Good.”   Both Plato and Aristotle believed in a rational Good, which is to say an optimal situation of flourishing, one approachable through a universal language of science, critical thinking and moral emotion.

Scientific claims are both verifiable and falsifiable.  Critical thinking eliminates fallacies and fosters adaptive, meticulous argument.  Moral emotion wields the wisdom of the humanities, speaking from the heart as well as the head.

Kit was a practical philosopher.   He layered his Aristotelian foundation with common-sense pragmatism (Dewey) and language use (Wittgenstein).  Given these frameworks, it is safe to assume that Kit envisioned change as gradual yet cumulative, an ongoing transformation of our collective consciousness, coupled with concomitant improvements in the quality of governance.    

If this sounds grandiose, it is actually nothing new.  Our collective consciousness has been evolving for thousands of years.  As technology advances, human awareness leaps.  The more powerful we become, the more our attitudes craft the very nature of the Earth.  Our thoughts become self-fulfilling prophesies.  We instantiate our greatest hopes or, sadly, our worst fears. 

Will we create demonic-looking robots that cow citizens to bow at the feet of a ‘divine’ dictator?  Or will we design AI that helps us approach more mature ways of living, perhaps through computer simulations of various approachable utopias?

My father’s advice, if honored, can save us from fascism and what will follow.  If enough of us in America 'keep our goodness,' we and our posterity are on the path toward a brighter future.  Conversely, if we vote a fascist onto a newly minted throne, all of humanity trembles, in no small part because America has the world's strongest military.  

Dictator Trump will summon and effectuate what he always has:  corruption, chaos, division, cruelty and avarice.

For my father, though, the reason to choose the Good was not about personal benefit.  An idealist looks beyond ego.  To choose the Good speaks to the very nature of reality, of what we want the fabric of things to be.  A choice of Good speaks to the planet, the galaxy, and the universe.  We celebrate and seek the Good because it is where ethics, beauty, health, joy and courage converge toward a singularity:  a lovely harmony which marries passion and reason within the sublime.

 

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





8/22 eds



8/21 ... Needs more work but I wanted to get this up on my bd


Saturday, August 17, 2024

Tired .. On and on

 What a journey, this odyssey of life, huh?


One Soul