He Was Packing His Bags

He was packing his bags all day long,
a quiet, gentle man--
packing and unpacking, in fact--
not exactly worried about
what to take and what to leave behind,
just sorting through,
one eye on the clock--
again, not worried, since this was,
thank God,
one ride he could not miss--
but wondering when it would be time
for him to go.

And he kept on telling me these stories as he packed,
about his life, about hurricanes, about the times he left
his luggage behind on one trip or another. I watched
him hold up each and every memory as if
inspecting it for stains or worthiness,
and then fold it, lay it
neatly
in his bag,
perhaps to be worn on his arrival, or--
more likely--
to be taken out again and laid aside,
one garment judged okay to leave
in favor of another.

Finally he stopped talking and he closed his eyes,
his stories all told and his bags all packed--
though I suspected he was still enumerating the things he had chosen
and the ones he had left
just to be sure.
I knew he was waiting for his ride,
so I waited with him;
and when it finally came, of course I missed the moment,
and he had left,
and I saw without surprise
that he had left his luggage behind.

In fond and respectful memory of Oz Stewart.


January 7, 2009

Art Project: X Foot Circle

This is an idea for an art project. I haven't done it but would like to.

1. Get a number of kids together, anywhere from 5 to 20, depending on the scale of the work.
2. Lay out a large square of art surface on a floor. The surface could be canvas or other equally sturdy material, or sections of some rigid material like drywall. If necessary, prime the surface to hide any brand markings and make it hold pigment. The surface must be large enough for kids to run or walk a circle on it, and should be as large as expenses and the intended display wall will permit. 10' square is probably the absolute minimum; truly grandiose execution would call for a 50' square.
3. With portable stanchions, rope off a circular track on the surface, diameter almost as large as the surface length/width, track width about 3'. Leave multiple exits/entrances on the outer edge of the track.
4. Protect the surface outside the inner and outer track boundaries with dropcloths.
5. Place large flat trays of non-slippery pigment (charcoal powder?) at each track entrance.
6. Have the kids take off their shoes and socks.
7. Have the kids enter the track, stepping in the pigment as they do so, and walk or run around the track clockwise until they stop leaving footprints.
8. Once their footprints stop, have them leave the track and enter by the next entrance, picking up more pigment along the way.
9. Repeat with all kids until the track is covered enough that they can no longer tell whether they are leaving footprints.
10. Prepare the surface for display if necessary (for example, stretch canvas on a light frame) and mount it vertically.
11. Title the piece "X Foot Circle", where 'X' is the number of feet involved (kids x 2).

12/17/2008

Pretend You Saw Me Dancing

This is actually a song in waltz time, suggested by something one of my daughters said while playing.

Pretend you saw me dancing
Alone upon a stage.
Pretend you asked if I would dance with you.
Pretend I was dreaming of
The chance we might fall in love,
And while we danced, my dream came true.

Now take my hand; I'll curtsey,
And you must smile and bow,
And we will dance as we pretended to.
Will our sweet dream romance
Blossom sweet while we dance,
And will you make my dream come true?

Bridge option 1:
How would I know if it happened?
How can I tell if it's real?
Surely if this were just make-believe,
I wouldn't feel what I feel.

Bridge option 2:
Is this a dream? Has it happened?
How can I tell if it's true?
Surely if this were just make-believe,
I wouldn't know I love you.

Bridge option 3:
Are we still only pretending?
Can I believe what I see?
Surely if this were just make-believe,
I wouldn't know you love me.

And here we are together,
Still dancing on this stage,
And now I know there's nothing to pretend.
I know forever we
In love are meant to be,
And that this dance will never end.

Why pretend?

I know forever we
In love will always be,
And that this dance will never end.




December 17 2008 - June 21 2009

In Some Things I See

In some things I see other lives.
The bathtub's ledge owes something to
one who knows we all require
a place to rest
(our soap, if nothing else),
and candy bars of course are made
by men who think the world deserves
some sweetness in sweet recompense
for revenue.
These are two
of many minds and worlds that crowd around me;
probably I see
most my own imagining,
but feeling just that other hands have grasped
the boxes and the bottles I employ
gives me, if not joy,
perhaps connectedness--
it's better, as we spin our private worlds
around our common star,
to know, if not our neighbors well,
at least a reassurance that they are.


December 9, 2008

By a Pebble

Another old one that I thought was actually pretty good. A reader recently told me that it was not obvious that the poem describes the experience of a beach pebble from the pebble's perspective. It does.

Drawn to the shore
from where the dark lies
blanketing;
no sound has permeated yet,
but when the water's roof grows peaked
and breaks,
and hunched among our brethren we roll
up the hurrying slope of ancient bones
to unfamiliar light,

then!

Stupefying thunder breaks
the world upon us and the sound
cascades and which way we
are we do not know,
over-ended and upset
until such time

as home leaves us behind
blinded, and we lie,
listening to our disappearing comfort
and the silence.


11/16/2000

We Live by Water

We live by water
drop by drop
by moisture are we quickened.
What is by water thickened
forms our clay,
and each of us is sprung to life
like flowers by the rain.


1/14/2003

The Pond is Bluer

Struggling through a cold; creativity on blink. Here's an old one (thanks to my father for the starting point):


The pond is bluer than the sky;
I wonder why.
Perhaps the color of God's eye
is echoed in the low
more than the high.


12/2/1999


BTW, do you think you can guess my race? Sorry for the unconscious racism; this bit wouldn't have been possible otherwise, but that doesn't necessarily make it right. A bit torn about this one.