Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Remains of an Old Mind

I wasn't even trying to capture this pose
the lower end of me, as the upper end
fumbled with buttons
 to find pictures
in my new phone, received recently.
This is an easy life
in so many ways
when new tools
keep data
accessible at finger-length
responding at a moment's notice.

Until this
this befuddling moment when
the tools
are not
they were.

What remains is frustration.

And Awe
And gratitude,
especially come tax-time to find
that miracle tool
you hated for a while
your expenses and kept them in a folder easily identified.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

He Looks Like All of Them

Grand-baby arrived before Christmas
before his due date-by design. His perfect body
a beauty to behold, cuddly and warm
sleepy one moment, hungry
the next, eyes curious to see who is holding him.

Now almost a month old, his demands are revealed
by the twitch of the mouth, the wrinkles on the forehead he makes
before he wakes, the rooting motions of his entire little body looking for that
maternal place where love and nutrition rest, and unexpected loud
wailing at some yet unidentified intervals.

He looks like his father, and his mother too, and his
uncles and cousins, and way back to his namesake grand-
grand-parents. His red fuzzy head keeps the line going, the
hope of lineage marked.

What new things will he do today?
Stare and smile at that Chagall's painting
in the guest room where he cuddles with me?
Will he turn toward the blinds, fascinated by the shadows they make?
Or, will he suddenly smile at my big glasses knowing he's not in
his mother's arms?

Our singing and rocking define our little moments,
little hands in big hands, his burping and tummy cries
just like mine, at importune moments
all adding lyrics to our talk- lullabies
between dog's barking, time passing,  day breaking...

We close our eyes, he fitting snugly on my chest, tummy down right after a meal, dozing off, with me ever watchful: how is he breathing, does anything obstruct his mouth and nose, is he warm enough, contained enough, free enough to allow every little movement his tiny legs and hands aspire to, can he be re-positioned easily, for burping, for a pacifier, for masking the bright lights...

And as winds and rains and snow pummel the world
this town shows mercy this January, breaking a sunny ray now and then,
a bit of kindness to this child
born in the deep of winter
just as the new Pope's comments are beneficial
to him and all babes who need nursing at
inconvenient times.

Just as I was about to throw religion out with the bath water.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Between states.

Nothing. No words will do.
You don't know what it's like to return to the specialist
and watch him shake his head, and say
let's try this new pill...Every new pill a delay
for the dreaded final word.

Your eyes are already off on that wall behind me
feeling left out; or feeling sorry for yourself, for what you thought you had

I want to tell you: I'm OK with death.

There, I said it. What's the fuss? We must go sometime. What about those young ones
who didn't even know death was waiting for them on that Sunday evening drive in the fog?

You tell me to fight, as though there is an enemy in front of me other than myself. I'm fighting, I want to yell back. Can't you see that I know when you touch me you think of me already gone and I know what you're thinking before you even know? I'm fighting to keep you close and trusting and giving in this insane state we are in.

Say nothing.

Just be alive for the both of us. Take me dancing. Better yet, take me away, where there will be so much to do and see that the distractions will be my cure. You can make this happen.

Can't you?

Thursday, January 2, 2014


A small step
a random protrusion
and your space has changed
to something you do not recognize
something compounded and multiplied
beyond sight and imagination and into new tentacles of existence.