as I face the denarius of worldly possessions with all the ways I could spend that sum rather than something pragmatic as winter, rather than its start, so these are important distinctions . who knows, I had the money when I needed it, and that was fine
Tag: Poetry
Learning from our mistakes
after you shoot the breeze on this end “uneventful normalcy” translates swamped by workplace, Meeting, girlfriend, call for jury duty to be gratefully dismissed in a round of flu while attempting to reverse a progressive financial tailspin in the ever-frustrated desire to hike more or read even cook like a genius or sit outside in sunlight still, I’ve had lobster for breakfast the hour most people have lunch, such a life, indeed
God doesn’t live on the top floor
the verdict, about time, no more dry and warm she who had been urging me to attend to be together again instead gave me the brush off with no explanation (and still none) but another led into the time and place of a heavy collision, no, things weren’t collecting dust on a shelf or even a one-night stand, these rejections add up without candlelight, fancy linen, or the wine and here it’s gone forecasting brutal winter and not much in the way of mountaineering
Wordless, open to movement
though I did see a moose along the Kancamagus and the next day, at sea, three humpbacks, including a mother and calf we followed more than an hour as the wind blew their misty exhalations across us a week before a perfect ocean sailing and that was about it, except for my annual Labor Day trek up the rails along the Merrimack and a brisk swim before the pool closed yet any view says there’s something out there you’re not getting
Overly Georgia
fittingly ends spooky summer mostly continuous deluge (four Yuppieback novels and a collection of essays) a Labor Day weekend reading binge as its best of thee often . hoping for all perfection, write sometime, OK? I never could keep up with developments / Everlastingly
What gives, Karmen
about it, except for an annual holiday trek up the railroad tracks along the river and brisk swim before the pool closes with Labor Day as ritual with a list of things to do filling four pages feeling depressed half the time even overwhelmed would be natural, too much I lose balance, lose focus, lose center then need to get back into the room by myself relating her entire summer rather beat
Straw hat
Jacob rather frowns on swimming, but Bleu and Ohio Boy love it while Swami just grins “Om” before a letter from South Carolina says they’ve named their farm Bee Riddle Farm, which I find wonderfully poetic yet if the buzzers proliferate, shouldn’t it be Bee-Riddled Farm? ending with Love and God’s Peace, no doubt, but who ate all that sweet corn?
With the element of chance in tie-dye or batik
you no doubt recall a cheery visit in Rhode Island or a ferry trip to Block Island an hour-and-a-half each way in gray eight-foot swells (we, too, rent a Mo-Ped to zip around on while out there) or a smoky Cog Railroad to the top of Mount Washington, a strategy that beats hiking to the 6,288-foot-elevation’s windy sub-alpine summit
Banzai, Zeke
to know a good life is not easy just look at all that’s broken here knowing you miss so much is to concede abundance and blessing as well until the eyes move away from what’s harmonious see, a house wrapped in leaves repeats marriage and even the compost unassumingly transforms to its own succulence while the children expect everything before attaining focus, at last requited by frugal exercise where we may be generous
Falling, all the same
summer begins by one system, but remains Midsummer by the other wherein May Day, August 2, and Halloween initiate the change of seasons and Christmas then falls in the middle right up to the vernal equinox or well beyond as far as sunlight falling on the Earth is concerned winter’s over on Depression-era linoleum encircled by tuxedos and stovepipe hats