Friday, April 10, 2009


Another poem written quickly. Prompt: "Friday"

and I'm on my way to work
in the ancient Volkswagen.

Lately, I've been privy
to a number of human
unkindnesses of
the generic sort.
The usual sniping and
jockeying for impenetrable position.
Also yesterday a colleague told me she
once fell down stairs
on campus. People stepped
over her to get where
they had to go.

Unkindnesses, even the usual
sort, build up in you
after a while.
They make you afriad
of what will happen next.

This old volkswagen, so good
on gas, is never good in
the elements. I can barely
see out the glass.
There's so little between
me and a world that
feels alien today.

What will we do
if we need each other's
help and grace but find we
don't have them to lean on?

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Northwest Ohio, United States
"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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Fave Painting: Eden

Fave Painting:  Eden

Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer

From the First Chapter

The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

My Original Artwork: Triptych

My Original Artwork:  Triptych



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