Thursday, November 21, 2019

MRI

  
Sounds follow pathways
through the clutter in my brain
and stop to read poems

Saturday, November 9, 2019

The Examined Life

     The Photographer
     Freezes action—and
Photographs
A shut door
A half eaten sandwich
A conversation in medias res 
with the next word unsaid 
Half an explanation

A landscape blind
to the catastrophe arriving
after the town turns out the last light

A man leaning against a pole
unaware of the car ready to jump the curb

Constrained
Dependent upon a piece of glass
The fish eye lens distorts the edges
The telephoto pulls the mountain into view

Explain to the viewers—
This is how it looked before the dust
buried the crops, before the earthquake 
buried the people, before the snow melted
You are seeing a piece of history
captured, manipulated, enhanced

The photographer documents the strike, the landslide—
The first day of school—
The children with distended stomachs
The plight of refugees
The demarcation line
The portraits of leaders, tyrants, serial killers
The marching band playing the national anthem
before the football teams take they field

The lens stop the years
For a moment you’re ten
then sixteen wearing a corsage for the junior prom
Here’s a class photo
Remember that person on your left?
He died in Korea, Vietnam, —Iraq

The photographer pauses—distill the moment,
Adds a viewpoint to a perishable reality—
and it haunts the soul


Thursday, November 7, 2019

Repetitions


I know the route, the path—
it’s terrain, detours along the way
The prayers that go awry and those
that surround with holy breath
I accept the measured words
with their familiar sentiments
I experience words forged in love—
as prayer  


Thursday, October 31, 2019

#Inktober2019: Ripe

Not Quite Ready

Ripe fruits of summer
become fleeting memories
along with hot days

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

#Inktober 2019: Catch


First Little League Game

He stood on third base
hoping to catch his first ball
His dad held his breath

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

#Inktober2019:Injured

Creating a Saga

It was self inflicted
or brought on by natural
circumstances or perhaps
a malicious incident
She wore the raised oval
on her wrist as a way 
to enter into an intimacy
without risk, a conversation
gambit, an indulgent ploy 
that let her enter another life
She spun stories
of how the oval appeared—
a marvel, something woven
out of the thread of myths
This was not an injury
without a backdrop.


Monday, October 28, 2019

#Inktober2019: Ride

      Summer

I recall the ride to a bungalow in the Catskills where we piled our overstuffed baggage into the trunk of a large car transporting three families to different destinations and I asked how much longer— we all left the city with its fire escapes and sweltering apartments to spend a week or even the whole summer sharing kitchens in small cabins where fly paper hung down in the kitchen to catch any flying insect and bridge tables became maj jong tables after supper

Our mothers played canasta or maj jong while our fathers worked in the city and came up on weekends and played softball until the sun disappeared while we cheered and sucked popsicles 

I recall the ride home and how I asked how much longer


Sunday, October 27, 2019

#Inktober2019: Coat

The Issue of Height

I wore my Pea Coat
and a wool scarf
coiled around me 
ready to unfurl 
as I walked

*scarfs were six feet long




Saturday, October 26, 2019

#Inktober2019: Dark

The Dark Season

Winter brings darkness
erasing long days and the
deep heat of our sun

Friday, October 25, 2019

#Inktober2019:Tasty

Summer Treats

A pound and a half lobster
potato salad and a cold beer
eaten while overlooking the ocean
A raspberry chocolate chip
ice cream or a pistachio gelato
A burger piled high with accouterments 
and hand cut sweet potato fries
Banana, strawberry, and mango
spun and blended into a smoothie 
And the sun —warming my bones
I taste the sun, swallow it’s warmth
along with wild  blueberries
and the tang of a summer day





Thursday, October 24, 2019

#Inktober2019:Dizzy

   The Earth In Rotation

Once, just once, I traveled
on a spinning, gyrating  
amusement park ride
I traveled from a stable earth
to one that spun, dipped,
shuddered, and catapulted
me into a limbo where I
lost contact with the ground—
where my limbs became 
appendages I no longer
recognized, where my insides
jiggled and lurched from side 
to side, where my head 
began to spin —slowly at first 
and then began to quicken
At the end, unbuckled and released
my legs wobbled, 
and the world still spun
         



Wednesday, October 23, 2019

#Inktober2019: Ancient

    Interpretation 

When does old become ancient 
Is it a matter of time or perspective
When I was sixteen forty seemed old
and fifty almost ancient
At thirty old moved up to fifty
and ancient hovered around seventy
Now I look upon old as a metaphor
rather than an age— how old do you feel
And ancient refers to Egyptian mummies
or Greek statues, or shards of pottery
found beneath buried cities 

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

#Inktober2019:Ghost

A Chance to Be Heard

Unsaid words haunt our
nighttime dreams promising to
speak the words aloud 

Monday, October 21, 2019

#Inktober2019: Treasure

The Past Doesn’t Replay

I ignored treasures
spread out in front of me—instead
spending my time
with illusions and daydreams
When those  disappeared,
incomplete stories remained
My treasures—dried up 
left without a backwards glance









Sunday, October 20, 2019

#Inktober2019:Tread

Tread Lightly Around Demagogues  

Take care, do not step
into those places where hate rears 
up and destroys us

Saturday, October 19, 2019

#Inktober2019:Sling

Using An Antenna

Years ago, when I began teaching in New York City, my first assignment included an extra five hundred dollars because the school carried the designation— problem area school. At the initial meeting for all the new teachers— half the staff— instructions included how to write on the blackboard while facing the class, what not to wear, and when to ring for assistance.

Except for a few students my classes did not turn into hotbeds of destructive behavior. Once I realized that many in the class could not read adequately to decipher the middle school text —a moratorium existed. Instead of dealing with their frustration I began to teach reading—using comic books.

Several students couldn’t care about deciphering words unless those words led to a description of weapons. Superman wore a cape around school and ran a protection racket in the cafeteria. Pay or keep going to the end of the lunch line. He kept order so no one took him on. 

Many of the teacher’s cars had missing antennas —used to make Zip Guns.  Superman made a living making and selling Zip Guns and slingshots that also used antennas, but with little accuracy.





Friday, October 18, 2019

#Inktober2019: Misfit

Take Care Who You Label

Who wears the mantle
of misfit, perhaps the one
who is unlike you


                             




Thursday, October 17, 2019

#Inktober 2019: Ornament

Pearls and Diamonds

My aunt amassed boxes
of costume jewelry to
create her own style 

Wednesday, October 16, 2019

#Inktober2019: Wild

              Wild About

I am wild about white chocolate scones
or cupcakes holding up mounds of frosting
I am wild about paninis stacked with turkey,
thin cheese slices and all manner of accouterments 
Raspberry chocolate- chip yogurt ice cream
in a cup with an inverted sugar cone placed
at a jaunty angle makes any afternoon celebratory
I am wild about cracking unsalted pistachios 
while working on a Times crossword puzzle
If I am  saying ,”this is the last time” I’m
probably opening up a package of chips
I am wild about chocolate covered apricots,
blueberries and slivers of ginger
I am wild about free food samples and thumb size
samples of white wine at a tasting
And I am in love with brunch buffets and potluck dinners
I am wild about dishes prepared by someone else


Tuesday, October 15, 2019

#Inktober2019: Legend

Close to Her Heart

My grandmother held
her old stories from Poland
beneath her corset

                                 

Monday, October 14, 2019

#Inktober2019: Overgrown

Recipe for Lovers

Tend to those you love
If left alone nettles will
choke out the blossoms 
                                         

Sunday, October 13, 2019

#Inktober2019: Ash

Redirect


Ash,  fueled by hate  left
after someone is viewed as less than,
a person who is declared not worthy
Ashes— left after hate has its say, or
rears up —festers, smolders, and fueled
to rise up again under incendiary words and actions
If we say nothing, not wanting to squander
words on those who hate —we share blame.
We need to smoother those ashes,
stomp down on any embers 
and walk a different path. Our fire
must burn with love.

Saturday, October 12, 2019

#Inktober2019: Dragon

 The Art of Memory     
             
             Some day you will
             be old enough to start reading
             fairy tales again.
                —C.S.Lewis


To indulge in fantasy remains a delight
for both borders of age.
The young imagine themselves 
as Superheroes—creating scenarios 
to save their world from beasts 
who show up in dreams.
The young give voice to stuffed animals
who listen and offer love.
The old make an art of remembering.
Drawing on memory to find words
to explore neighborhoods, to recall
with hazy accuracy years before
double digits and years after.
Some recall a book, a song, 
the words of an adult. Looking ahead
the time shortens, but standing still
and looking backward the vista is broad.


Friday, October 11, 2019

#Inktober2019: Snow

The Meteorologist as Seer

Get your  milk and bread
 Twenty-five inches of deep snow
 are coming today  

                  

Thursday, October 10, 2019

#Inktober2019: Pattern

Our Paradigm

Life, a symphony
of subtle notes and flashy
interludes through our decades

Wednesday, October 9, 2019

#Inktober2019: Swing

On My Side of the City

How high did you swing?
Did you ever touch a cloud
or leave the neighborhood
or fly beyond concrete sidewalks
and apartment buildings tight
against one another?
Did you ever swing on a rope
hanging on a tree branch
and let go over moving water
to respond to a dare? 
If not we never met.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

#inktober2019:Frail

   Fragile & Frail ,Don’t Drop

My mother’s teacup
placed on top of my bookcase 
still holds a fragrance


Monday, October 7, 2019

#Inktober2019: Enchanted


An Enchanted Place

Before the steep ascent up
Old Rag Mountain we walked
amid oak, maple and hickory trees
Then climbed past fields of wild flowers—
columbine, milkweed, nodding onion,
white bloodroot, and those whose 
names I never knew
We scrambled over ragged rocks 
on the Ridge trail— collected
shards of granite, zigzagged
on switchbacks until we arrived
at the  top where boulders smoothed
by time and water basked in the sun
I read some psalms— 
Words of praise 
reverberated in the crisp air, syllables
dispersed over granite formations 
and echoed across the mountains
Holy, Holy, Holy


Sunday, October 6, 2019

#Inktober2019:Husky

A Quick Recovery 
    On the High School Debating Team

His voice grew husky—
His argument lost its fire—
He altered his path

Saturday, October 5, 2019

#Inktober2019:Build

To Build Again
                            It is not incumbent on us to
                            finish the task, but neither are
                            we free to refrain from
                            beginning it.
                                       Pirkei Avot. 2:16
When a disconnect happens
that appears to be too deep,
hidden beneath layers—
the  past is gone, but
forgiveness remains
You need to approach the abyss
with care—bottom waters 
drag, but forgiveness exists
If the other refuses to hear,
to listen—try again
We build on small steps—
balancing forgiveness and love
with both hands

Friday, October 4, 2019

#Inktober2019:Freeze

Cold Weather Freeze

Winter slips under
The door—around my shoulder
and leaves a cold veil


Thursday, October 3, 2019

#Inktober2019:Bait

     Fishing in a Mountain Stream

We made bait with Wonder bread
balls rolled through ground garlic 
and then piled into plastic bags
ready for a morning of fishing—
in a stream running full
Five boys scattered — looking
forward to a perfect fishing spot—
a place to catch Small Mouth Bass,
Sunfish or maybe even Rainbow Trout
I sat on a stream rock
with a pole made of a broken branch
and a fishing line tied to one end,
a garlic ball on a hook at the other end
One of the older boys offered to remove
the hook if any fish bothered to bite
I watched the spots of light on the water,
the way the current moved a twig downstream
and the wavy pattern of fish swimming
I listened to the sound of water
traveling over rocks
and the sound of fish being thrown in a pail
for an evening meal