No darker room in a house
than an unlit tree at Christmastime.

 

December 16 2020

 

Wren in the wreath

by the front door bolts

to the blue spruce in the dark

beyond the porch. 

So much for using that door anymore

this year.

December 12 2020

 

Sweetest is the harmony 

my daughters sing offhand 

as they put their jackets on

to go to Target.

December 12 2020

Thanks, Flying

A volley of robins shot by.

Singly, others perch on dipping branches

to gulp red fruit.

They're conversing in the neighbor's tall tree.

Whether they shift south or not,

this could be their last chance 

to flock before winter.

The dog doesn't need to bark at this;

birds are a complete non-issue.

Rain on my old brown cap 

has the quality of mercy;

later I will change the sheets.

For these and other blessings

there is gratitude below

and maybe in the air.

November 26 2020

Nothing is a panacea, though birth and death come close.

Today a blown leaf clung to my face. Never before has that happened to me. My life will continue to be filled with firsts, including death.

Warming

Two Canadas call overhead,

strands cut from their skein,

no vee in sight.

Have they gone ahead?

Maybe they don’t believe in climate change,

unlike you.

October 30 2020

Anthropology

I am the only me, I know.

Margaret Mead has told me so.

I’m unique, like all the rest,

and none of us is best.

October 30 2020

Sunday

Rare peace.
This is our chore day.
Walk him the longer way;
red leaves backlit by the early sun.
Dry and canned,
coffee and the unwise doughnut.
Pills. Get out the cheese.
Trim our nails.
She empties the fridge.
The dump.
Walk him by the river,
let him wade,
then home, his lunch and mine.
We nap.
She fights the tide of darks and lights.
I fold laundry,
not knowing what is whose,
while he waits for us to walk him.

October 21 2020

 

Rock

 

Consider pebbles and their virtues.

They wait.

Each seeks its small repose.

They are not subject to opinion. 

Good folk to turn to when your mind needs rest.

But stone only seems to sleep through eyeblink lives;

it is always on the move.

I have stood on a beach with old and infant rock,

ancient sand sifted over peat in a buried marsh,

born to be coal.

There is much to consider, say the boulders,

and much time for consideration.

We pitch our tiny tents on magma's back, 

and we will drift 

wherever it wants to flow.

 

October 5 2020

 

Advice to adolescents

Start working on your past now, while it's still your present. You can't go back later to fix it. 

October 5 2020

"I think there's a structure to both tangible and intangible reality that we're not yet able to understand, though we get hints here and there and record them as science and art and scripture. The structure might be supremely complex or sublimely simple; in fact, I suspect that if we ever get to the bottom of the complexity pile, we'll find it's all simple.

"Am I talking about God? I have no idea. I'm not even sure it's a meaningful question. I don't see how this structure can be an actor, but then again, here we human structures are. The structure itself and our limited grasp of it are consistent with the notion of God as passing human understanding, so I don't rule anything out. Religious question aside, I will say that the bits of the structure I've seen are quite beautiful."

-- Retief Johnson, "The Arkansas Lectures"

Nose

 

Sometimes 

all a dog has is his nose

and you just walk it with him.

September 29 2020

Useless Aphorism

 
From my dog:

"Who pees last, pees best."

 

Other Lives

Things you know without being told
include but are not limited to:

• How to find your way by touch
  to the pantry for cookies
  to give your young visitors
• The jolly fall of sunlight on the garden gate
  by the flowers where you might have played
  if it wasn't just a dream
• The sense of being far from home
  and barefoot in pajamas on a straight road
  by a beach in moonlight
• What the windowless drawing room was like
  where the duchess sat,
  surrounded by her smiling coterie

What you feel is the terror

of intimate understanding, in a pinprick moment,

of a life you never had.

Go to the memories next door with caution,

if at all,

and borrow none. 

August 22 2020

Interim

And windy. 

A satisfaction

to be wearing jeans 

and a sweatshirt again, 

but the breeze can only be 

just so strong, before it’s winter.

September 18 2020

 

Controversial

 

I’m busy writing manifestos

for civil wars I hope will never burn the streets.

I’m mapping futures made of knives.

I'm spreading unlikely theories of courtesy.

I’m ill with history.

The latest thing in litter

is temporary faces, 

and tomorrow's poison, 

in the newsfeed I'm hooked up to, 

waits to drip.

There’s no way to my heart’s church from here,

no access to the sky.

I can't write reason or read joy

with all these arguments to win,

these falsehoods to outface,

this outrage to consume.

It's time to snip the zip ties,

slip outside,

remember the moon.

Thank God, the dog knows nothing.

September 2 2020

 

Last Summer

 

The wind is blowing fall at us,

pushing summer south,

but autumn is chameleon, like spring:

They imitate their neighbors

where they end and they begin.

 

August 26 2020 

 

Development

 

Different crows we have, now,

stalking the lawns,

sitting the fences, 

arguing--

over what, makes no difference, 

it's all the competition, isn't it?

Elbow room,

or wing, if you like, 

and God knows there's not much left of either,

with the trash woods coming down

and the carriage houses going up,

and the new folk set to park their cars

--not knowing, and no shame to them--

where the deer our dogs do scent at night

once bedded.

August 22 2020

Walk Last Winter

He’s riotous.

We haven’t been here in days: 

Damn the snowflakes; 

I’ll howl them all away 

and drag you into the woods besides. 

I don’t mind a leash 

if you’re prepared 

to stumble where I fly. 

Winter 2019

Juice

We didn't know 

cherries on little glasses 

could someday mean home 

to children we didn't know then.

August 8 2020

Damage

I don't know peace.

My nights are filled with broken cars.

That isn't true,

but I don't tell my dreams to just anyone:

They say too much.

Capture my imaginings,

you might own my soul

surer than a camera can catch it;

and though mine seems often mostly injury,

if I let it go

I'll have nothing left to heal.

August 19 2020

Civil society or civil war: What's the point of talking?

 

More on civil discourse. 

You can't win a FB argument, so why bother talking to someone you disagree with? Because it's important. We're in crisis, and unless you want a civil war, cooling things down is a good thing to do. The point of civil discourse isn't to convince your partner you're right (or passively accept your partner's view); it is to give him/her the experience of talking civilly and to strengthen bonds. Providing food for thought is a nice extra, but don't count on it.

Civil discourse is a diplomatic tool for keeping all sides at the table, open to talking, and increasingly aware of commonality.

This good, brief article: 

https://www.charleskochinstitute.org/issue-areas/free-speech-and-toleration/civil-discourse-important/

From the article: "Kenneth J. Gergen describes civil discourse as the "language of dispassionate objectivity," and suggests that it requires respect of the other participants...it neither diminishes the other's moral worth, nor questions their good judgment; it avoids hostility, direct antagonism, or excessive persuasion; it requires modesty and an appreciation for the other participant's experiences."

From Wikipedia: "Civil discourse is engagement in discourse (conversation) intended to enhance understanding." 

Here are some specific suggestions for successful discourse, based on my experience. 

• No sarcasm. 
• No temper. 
• No clever made-up names ("demotards, republitards, Christards...").
  
• Do not say, “I find it amusing...” This will be interpreted as a slight or as code for, “It really makes me angry...” 
• If you start with, “I don’t want to sound like an X...”, ask yourself why you’re saying what you’re about to say. Maybe you really are an X, but just don’t want to admit it. Maybe you know that what you’re going to say is wrong. 
• Don't preach to the choir--or at least, don't do only that. Rousing the troops is okay (but see "civil war"), but if you can also broker peace, that's better. 
• Two wrongs don't make a right. Firing back at hostility generally makes things worse.
  
• Ask a respectful question before replying to a statement. FB encourages brief posts. You need to make sure you understand, and it also makes your partner friendlier, which is the real point. You can do worse than to ask your partner to evaluate your position.
  
• No long screeds or rants. People give up half way through, and you can probably edit way back to cut duplication and asides. (I know, I just screwed up on this one.) 

If you have thoughts about civil discourse, I'd be interested to hear them. 

August 10 2020

 

H.M.S. Resolution

 

Buoyed by virtue, I
surge forth, prow high.
Swells I will overtop,
fear not.

                Behold,
I am confident in grace.
To hell's own latitude I will chase
the imps of morning
that thought to torture me
in bed,

              till none remain,
and I come about, triumphant,
seas reclaimed,
for good to sail in peace
on friendly water.

August 8 2020

Social Distance

Masks don’t fit the norm anymore

where I walk our dog.

I feel the novel pressure of disdain.

But then, I can drive back home,

take the color from my face

and wash my hands of it all.

I know that I am safe.
 

June 8 2020 

Protector

I will think instead of the lighthouse
not the constant sea that drives me
toward a disastrous shore on waking.
Then the wheel spins useless
and I have no baulk to stop it
only the gentle call that tells me
the ledge is still far away
and there may yet be time to turn.

June 8 2020
 

Invasion

A strange bird decks the trees
with streamers of fluent music new to me.
I always expect the south to visit,
these warming days.
Maybe this is just a prelude to macaws.

May 29 2020

Seeing the Sun Rise

The somnolent ocean rides with us
on our right, a vast plain, a waiting place
for what she wants to see:
the ponderous bulk floating silently up
from behind the curve to breach, red in a salmon sky.
She has her yogurt, granola bars, and water bottle.
Now to our left, the ocean still lies felt, not seen,
behind a beach house fortified,
with no apparent stairs.
She puts up her mask and disappears.
Did you get in okay?
Yes
k
I drive home and dive deep
back into my bed.

May 23 2020

Feral

Sometimes memory comes at you like a dog
that bites you bloody, instantly.
You had it leashed but it turned,
and now you’re looking for bandages.
Throw it outside and lock the door,
but it's too old to learn its lesson.

May 4 2020

Lights Out

It’s dark behind your eyelids because

there must be a void to fall into

where you can find yourself waiting.

 

April 22 2020

 

Before Bed

Our old dog
is nothing but young
when he leaps by the door
farting with excitement
and eager to pee on the night.

April 16 2020

Dissent

Hearing the messenger wind:

Change is flying through the air

bringing sun and rain and cold

and Earth's rebellion in the cause of Spring.

 

 April 5 2011

Abundance of Caution

I remember wearing gloves.
The hoarders had their day.
A man at the White House said it was all okay,
and don't forget to vote.
We won't, we promised each other, from a social distance.
The dogs had no idea what was going on,
nor Venus, nor poor dim Betelgeuse;
local thunder stole his show.
On a cold morning when life was springing,
I wondered if I would someday write this down.
Better, I thought, perhaps, to do it now,
but think of it, someone mentioned just then in a meeting
that cherry blossoms still were scheduled to bloom.

March 16 2020

Delay

Insane snowdrops taunted dying winter,
invading even the shadow ground behind the house,
and green blades slashed the weakened mulch by the neighbor’s hedge.
On the way home I was avid for news from the frogs,

but then I thought no
wait
don’t be greedy
soon here, soon gone

not yet

Sandwich Love

by Leonie Tesman

It's a peanut butter romance
but the bread is good
and the jelly makes it sweet.
Darling, give me milk.
You're stuck to the roof of my heart.

January 2 2020

Continual

The new year drags them forward:
ills, unfinished chores,
the worry and the doubt.
There is no starting over; it's about
the debts that last year left us;
that is what we shoulder
as we take a breath,
a step,
and then another. January watches
as we turn from celebration to the night,
carrying, like a candle’s flame, resolve,
because there is no other choice,
to find and follow the old road
toward uncertain light.

January 1 2020