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The Spirit House
There are Spirits In the house. I think I always Knew That- Although Had you asked Me In my youth I Might have said Important ones Only lived Near cliffs With gods And nymphs, Or Held their courts In deep Green Forests; But I did not Think Much else Would deign To live With me…
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Omne ignotum pro magnifico est
There are some bits of wisdom that are hard to forget -especially if they verge on the personal. Take, for example Virginia Woolf’s observation that ‘A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.’ I like that: it gives me permission to change my mind -or perhaps more to the point,…
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The Newborn Day
Is there a differenceBetween the days?There are no labelsOr pointy things;And it can’t just beThe sun,Or weatherHiddenBehind the curtained windowOf my room;Nor evenThe list of thingsI planned to doThe day beforeBut didn’t.Time hangsLike someone else’sLaundryAll around me,So what I seeCould be any day.No,A morningShould beA newborn babe,DeliveredLike a pizzaFresh with life,ToppingsUndetermined,Able somehowTo tempt meFrom my…
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The Amity that Wisdom knits not
The World Health Organization has recently declared the ongoing outbreaks of Mpox in Congo and elsewhere in Africa to be a global emergency, requiring urgent action to curb the virus’ transmission. Will these crises never end? Are we forever destined to experience new untamed diseases ravaging our world? I mean think of Ebola, Zika, SARS, multi-drug…
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The Daily Mail
I do not name The days Anymore; There seems No sense In that. Some Drag their feet Like old men Limping, Others Skitter past Playing tag Together. It is their speed Of passing, Not the names Which chart them. Anyway, I have A phone Now; It tells me When to turn The page.
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Out, Out, Brief Candle
I realize I’m getting old -or is the gerund no longer necessary for me? My thoughts -my questions- are of necessity sliding epilogically toward the last chapter of my as yet unwritten autobiography. So it will come as no surprise that I am empathetically wired of late. I am an unabashed fan of John Donne’s…
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The Once and Only
We had not met And never will. She travelled through the crowd An island, With people Breaking over her Like waves. Submerged in thought, She sometimes cleared Her head Enough To rise above the sea- Sadness Painted in her cheeks, And loneliness A smudge Upon her face. But once, She surfaced in the stream Her…
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A piece of valiant dust?
Who listens with their ears alone is deaf. I have to admit that I love aphorisms; there’s something about the brevity that commands attention; something about the message that is often multilayered: usually understood immediately, but occasionally appreciated only in retrospect. Aphorisms are by no means a recent invention; Hippocrates supposedly coined the word for…
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Memories of a childhood dog
No matter whatThe yearsMayWhisperIn my ear,There will beSurprisesStill.There areNightsThat hideUnopenedGifts,DaysThat waitFor meIn unmatchedColours;And yetYourEyesWill alwayssearchThe spaceBetween usWith silentHope.I amOldNowAnd sheddingMemoriesLike leavesIn autumn,ButThose thatRemainSeemNewSometimes.I do notSeekTo knowThe reasonThough-ThatTheyAndYouAre hereAgainIs quiteEnoughTo see meThroughUntilI’m not.
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