Monday, February 28, 2022

Poem: Climate Change

 

Climate Change

 

a sob of trees,

whipped and slippery,

grope stone clouds,

branches gripping

a multi-armed, multi-thighed

onslaught of wind,

twigs for fingernails,

slashes raked.

 

fate writhes,

trunks crane,

heartstrings snap,

groaning from the vehemence

of human avarice.

 

barks bare fangs,

hisses of wood anguish,

viper-knots nude of root

strangle

 

strangle

 

strangle in lament.

groves gone,

cruelty eats worlds,

kingdoms drown

in torrents of stupid.





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 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 palms cup a cane

carved from a fallen tree he climbed as a boy.

his wool of ocean-blue 

 reminds him of a long-time-ago girl

who said the tide would lead her

as it retreated with the hem of her dress.

 

his mast of a spine,

cannoned with muscle, suffers tatters.

his guilty sinews congregate on warped bones.

his eyes--such foggy compasses--wander.

his leg-heavy anchors

unremember their allegiance to wind.

 

and yet still, the rain,

such drops! how they sojourn

across the countries of his cheeks.

and as all of us must do, they diminish,

meek of glow, at last, so it must be, 

led by moonlight,

as night sinks into water.

 


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







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 cautious as brittle bones, 

trunks of the motherless 

lay on their sides near laughing geese,

while wind combs

through a paper-birch bark of shivered curls,

howlsome in its error.

 

i kneel

to touch fresh fissures

in elderly resistance.


how did the octogenarian wood

resist for so long this cruel glade,

before a cracked mouth

stretched forth from its own guts

to leer up at the storm,

splintering to savage?




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






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

 

a whisper in my palm,

vestige of echoed moan,

cursed resonance

of keepsake and tryst.

 

magmata

lost to surrender, 

lost to primeval vigor, crimson-orange,

no longer aloft 


in the pulse of a planet.

 

gone 


the ache of gods,

their molten breath,

tectonic touches,

ardent outbursts

 

of metamorphic bliss--


to merge immortal, incessant, 

to incandesce--

ferocious, unmeasured,

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 designs,

callous toward volition.


workers who protest the boss, on strike,

perched as cripples,

needy as claws of a vulture

to plunge into warm ooze.

 

fingers, no,

 

they are bars of a cage, 

insurgent to trespass through flesh,

keen to disprove

every philosopher

who thought the soul real--

 

instead to unveil  

a construct of candles,

flickers of willow-o’-wisp,

flames mean under follicle and pore.

 

a hot, fleet travail of ethers,

such is the chemical of the soul,

borne in an outrage of sparks,

nothing more, 


and yet 

 

one by one, those sparks slow,

stilled by the crooks atop my palms,

runty frostbitten staffs--

and their cold shepherd,

a cruel Physics,

who herds 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 battles a fence

between the trivial and the vivid.

something filmy, frosted with haze.

 

and yet it must be cut--

with truth of touch or tongue.

otherwise it is glue on songbirds;

rheumatoid to sweet pleasures

cast from the sun.

 

i sharpen my words

against a whetstone of years.

i strive to make my senses pencils.

somewhere nearby

something lovely is describable.

perhaps lonely.

 

it’s so quick, though,

how we age within calendar squares.

shadows creep out of bed,

half-formed bureaucrats,

stretching their dingy cellophane

across the dawn.




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





5/15 .. Several word changes

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Poem: Romance

 

Romance

 

curves of burgundy

in moons of crystal

played by candelight.

 

a daze of coax

above bulb and stem

as pupils ease.

 

fingers slide

across tablecloth blush.

they hover.  they graze.

 

so intoxicating,

this bridge of touch and stare.

immortality’s dream.





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