Wednesday, August 26, 2015

I'll Follow

I
found
myself thinking
of women who
step outside of the known
and walk beyond the thistles

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Something is Wrong

This evening I heard that a number of new condos in Boston sell for millions of dollars. If you want a penthouse condo with a 360 degree view the price escalates quickly.

One penthouse, available for $37 million, includes an outdoor area over 2500 square feet.

According to one of the developers living in his building is an experience. If, he said, you want someone to walk your dog, desire a martini at 3:00am, need a maid... it's all available.

How many families live in substandard housing in Boston? How many people have either inadequate housing or no housing in Boston?

How many of us would define experience differently?

Monday, August 24, 2015

Re-Writing

I
wrote
about old
35mm color slides
Seventeen carousels of lava balls,
herds of bison hanging out in a meadow,
Old Faithful gushing on time,
and without warning
my computer
swallowed
my
words

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Themes

suppose what you write about changes and you realize that for years you wrote about it from all angles and now you need to reinterpret, look with another pair of lenses, move carefully, parse sentences, and now find new words to move in different directions

Friday, August 21, 2015

Forgetting and Forgiving

To forget may mean that you're not paying attention and forget what you promised, arrive late because you didn't remember, or someone may forget parts of their life, and even forget people you once knew.

Yet forget may also mean that you don't go back and go over and over the past, but move on to the present and beyond. You start over-- clean slate.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Heated Words

Over the past week I've listened to people indulge in one-upmanship when describing the humidity and heat.

It's blistering hot enough to melt those rubber flip-flops right off your feet

Naw, sultry and sensual like Tobacco Road

It's like I been toasted and roasted
Skewered on a rotisserie until charred




Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Constitutionally Unfit

How does anyone accumulate all this stuff? In one box a collection of mediums for collage-- matt, satan, gloss as well as six different types of paste-- after all a thin piece of newsprint demands a different glue than a leaf or cardboard or a metal medal. Then my collection of watercolor pencils and thin and thinner and razor thin ink pens.

Who knows when I'll need to write an epistle on a postage stamp piece of onion skin.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Step by Step

Stop
Stop this train
Make a U turn
Am I ready?
If life is one long
pilgrimage
who says you can't
stay put
and read about pilgrims

Monday, August 17, 2015

Looking Ahead

What happens when you change your perspective, look out a different window, chop vegetables on the left of the sink instead of the right, walk down the stairs holding on to a bannister on the right side when you've acclimated to the other side, turn different faucets, notice stains in the rug you didn't create, hear alien creaks?

What happens to your outlook on life, your philosophical girding, the person you expect to encounter when you leave your front door?

What happens to the slant of the sun on your desk, your desk in a different quadrant, how you parse your world?

In an alien space will your words be consumed by strange thoughts, will the axis find its way, or will life be teetering on the string of a spinning gyroscope?

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Open House

Just look around
don't touch
I like it this way
you'll get your chance
to manipulate
to turn things upside down
For now this is my space
and I like it just this way

Friday, August 14, 2015

Heat Pangs

Hot and humid and getting hotter
until the asphalt melts
and sous-chefs fry eggs on the sidewalk
Open hydrants flood streets
and synchronized swimmers practice
A mirage appears across the roadway
and a lemonade stand appears
with retro prices and
a handlettered sign






Thursday, August 13, 2015

Moving On


I'm ridding myself of relics,
baggage that holds me to this place
with its familiar patina, but
I slow down when I encounter
hidden places,narrow openings where
fragments from these rooms tell
long stories and I stop to listen





Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Finding the Crack in Time

Leaving this place of repetitions,
of echoes,of granite outcroppings
and strata of stone, of sea birds
and sand bars, I know I'll be back
to measure my breath to my steps
and to sit on the rocks and wander
beyond arbitrary horizons

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

On Faith

When the mist descends and edges soften
islands blend into the background,
a dinghy fades as it floats into the backdrop
while a sailboat's mast vanishes
into a space where we can't follow

Monday, August 10, 2015

No Ending

let me linger here
counting barnacles, listening
to a seagull's chatter,
staring at a lobster boat checking traps
there's time enough to tend to the ordinary
for now let me linger here



Saturday, August 08, 2015

Maine


I am drawn to the rocks, to the surf,
to the placid silence
and to the blue-green water depths.

Today I stuffed my rucksack
with these waters,
and with barnacles
cemented to rocKs

Today I collected rockweed
to line my pockets

I need these reminders

Friday, August 07, 2015

Hull's Cove Sculpture Garden

It takes imagination to see a rusted spigot and envision it as a part of an assemblage

It takes an eye to use a broken plate as the centerpiece of a found table setting

When the Model T car stopped moving and sat in a yard until rodents rummaged the interior
When the weather ate away the interior and rust took over the exterior
When the artist looked he saw how the lines pleased his eye




Thursday, August 06, 2015

Changes

Did I study patterns on trees, fungi map like shapes, water rushing to keep up with a surface breeze, a tree split in half by lightning, or the sound of my boots on the path when I passed people on hiking trails before people began passing me on those same trails and their steps behind me alerted me to move over so they can move ahead until they vanish while I continue walking on the same path?

Wednesday, August 05, 2015

The Artist Painting the Rocks

He stands on a flat rock to ground himself
to the landscape of granite and sea
White foam sprays a pyramid of stone slabs
With a few strokes he freezes the action
to an exhaled breath
The viewer recalls the ways of waves,
the inhale and exhale

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

Upon Arriving in Maine

marsh grass sashays with salt water
luring me to look for open waters
leaning toward the horizon 


Monday, August 03, 2015

Peregrinations in a Small Space

           the room journey allows
            the self to pass by objects
            in an orderly sequence whose
            decided goal is to reveal
            an unknown world...
                  Traveling in Place by Bernd Stiegler & Peter Filkins

pebbles marked by travel
and washed in the Pacific Ocean
slide through my fingers,
waves flatten the sand before retreating
while sneaker waves approach
unannounced mimicking
the way events slip into a day

Saturday, August 01, 2015

Change Your Response

Somewhere I read the line unharness from the past
Unstrap the shoulder straps that leave marks
The past can't be eradicated or brushed away
Just remove the reins pulling you along


Friday, July 31, 2015

A Metaphor

He told me that his boss gave him a small tomato plant in a pot. At first the plant remained outside near his backdoor.
When he carried the plant to the front of the building he said,  “It didn’t get enough sun in the back.”
I watched him dig a hole, put in some good soil and lower the tomato plant. He then secured the plant to a cone shaped cage.
Last night he attached a long hose to the outdoor faucet and watered his one plant. It’s been hot here and today when I arrived home I noted that the leaves looked wilted and in need of watering. 
In my mind the young man and the plant are entwined—
Roots and growth—

Thursday, July 30, 2015

rivers


walk downtown Maynard and just before you get to the dry cleaners the Assabet River moves beneath a bridge where the vents from the cleaners send smoke puffs over the river unlike the old Camel billboard in Times Square where a two foot pipe hidden behind a man's face sent perfect smoke rings into the night air and when in Harper's Ferry, after you hear about John Brown's raid, walk to the overlook and stare down at the confluence of the Shenandoah and the Potomac where in my tone deaf monotone I sang O Shenandoah, I long to hear you, Away you rolling river but when I find a river with a shallow end and flat rocks perfect for walking or a sitting rock where the river's rush passes through my fingers time holds still and my breath quiets


Wednesday, July 29, 2015

No Trash

It's a conundrum. Even with a garbage disposal we amass enough trash to fill up a small trash bag. Each Wednesday we leave the bag behind our Toyota. On a light week we affix the pink sticker-- one dollar. Sometimes we need a larger bag and use a yellow sticker-- two dollars.

We've never gone a week without accumulating trash. I've noted that fewer of our neighbors leave out any garbage. In my condo building of six units our one dollar bag sat alone.

The building across the way had two bags.

No one in our building is on vacation. As I walked around the complex I began counting bags and noted only one building out of fifteen with more than three units with trash bags.

This phenomenon is on the increase. Do people bring their trash to work? Do they distribute each day's trash in different trash bins across town?

I envision a scene where people tiptoe to large trash bins and surreptitiously deposit their plastic bags.

Is it an affront to purchase the sticker? Every other week when recyclable items are placed outside almost everyone participates.

All I can deduce from this behavior is an aversion to pay. We have so little control of what happens to us in the public domain that I expect that taking trash into your own hands feels like a revolutionary act akin to throwing tea overboard.