Poetry month: Say what? (Day 14)

I scream
for people to make better choices about their own health
to scale back in their gross domestic consumption
to eat real food
to go outside and play
to plant a tree for every tank of gas
for bike lanes and libraries in every neighborhood
for one big coop (with a gym).

You scream
for lower taxes and less regulation of businesses
victory in the zero-sum competition for scarce resources
more fast food
bigger toys
more spectacular shows
rules that are clear and punishments severe
for one big going-out-of-business sale.

We all scream
for love
respect
a job well done
a hot meal
a cool beverage
a good night's sleep
someone to talk to who gets it.

It's national poetry month; I'm doing the best I can (Day 13)

Close Encounters of the Bird Kind

Wednesday evening just before sunset
Halfway home from a bike ride to Galena
North against the wind up Old 3C
Then south with the wind at my back,

Big hawk with wingspan greater than mine
Barreling at me low over the bike trail
Swoops up and over my outstretched arm
Raised in salute or wave or high five.

Naporimo day twelve: Greetings from the Cliche Liberation Front!

Thinking outside the box entails
first thinking inside the box,
which requires a box,
which means finding, inheriting, or hunting down,
capturing, domesticating, and ultimately
inhabiting your own special box.
Congratulations on your box!

The great unboxed, however, must cobble
together from scratch, from the streets,
from scraps, that is, from available materials
their own original self-made box.
Call it Independent Study.
The shape of the box might be a bit
irregular, nonstandard, or unaccredited,

So the untrained, unchurched, uninitiated
members of no fraternity, sorority, or order,
no priesthood, profession, or secret society
must create or concoct their own theology,
user guide, loyalty oath, pledge of allegiance,
mission statement, credo, or code of conduct.
Necessity really is the mother of invention.

The educated, by virtue of their access
to the body of knowledge
(hint: it comes in a box)
are thereby anointed, credentialed, degreed,
confirmed, ensconced,and ordained
as members of the club,
as decreed by the gatekeeper.

Then comes the fun part: the lucky few
secure in boxes with benefits attached
have the whole curriculum to overcome.
Whether they join the true believers
or take their box with a grain of salt,
they can learn to play the game,
play hard, play fair, play to win.

Getting better at anything involves,
like chicken and egg,
learning the rules,
respecting the tools,
acquiring the skills, the grammar and usage,
the language of the craft,
if only to know what to throw away.

Naporimo day eleven

We'reallconnected

Momandad keep busy
upgrading theirhouse
offloading possessions
maintaining their health
waiting for an apartment
to be vacant so they can movein.

Scottandawn will try to visit
Momandad soon and help
keepup the yard
sort the things to takealong
perhaps bringback something
they want to give up.

Abeandzoe are doing fine
with workandschool
their manyfriends
and their cats
in their ownapartments
in their owntimeframe.

Annandfred, Jeanandbarney, Peteandcindy, Maryjo
have youngadultchildren too
in schoolandwork
some with kidsoftheirown
with housestomaintain
property to divest

allintransition.

Naporimo day ten

Tsunami alert

Chennai office closed
by Sumatra earthquake
will post pages tomorrow

Napowrimo Day Nine

What is a poem?

Is it the rhythm of inhaling and exhaling
while taking a step to the right or left
to find a place of balance here and now,
to test the ground and have a leg to stand on?

Is it left brain sifting particles of data
and right brain riding the wave of the moment
in a cryptic dialog navigating through shadows
toward safe transport to somewhere else?

Is it a symbiosis of equal and opposites,
part making and part beholding,
both push and pull, gather and spread,
like cooking and eating or traveling and being there?

Is it instrumental, therapeutic, and useful,
a way to live with disappointment and heartache,
or is it autotelic, ecstatic, pointless, and sweet,
neither this nor that? Clearly not this.

NaPoWriMo Day Eight

Potato pancake, lip smack, newsprint's rustle, coffee's rush,
the angle of the sunshine in the Sunday morning kitchen.
Eventually the creeping phlox migrates from west to east
along a narrow bed on the other side of the fence.
Bake bread, cook a pot of black bean soup, have a banana.
One-handing a spade, weed a strawberry bed before it rains.
Shake off boots, stretch out on the floor, the day's too short.
Broiled salmon, roasted sweet potatoes, asparagus, and wine.

NaPoWriMo Day Seven

Morality Play: Breathe

There are two ways to occupy a space.
Fill it up with as much stuff as possible
Or clean it up, empty it out, strip it down.
These are not mutually exclusive, and
Any sane person would do both, but
Framing the question raises some issues:

How much of your stuff adds to the quality of the space?
How much of the space is used up in containing your stuff?
And how much of the space do you actively inhabit?
Sweep the floor, wipe the counters, nest the bowls,
Open the windows, let the inside air out,
Invite the outside air in, pollen and all.

NaPoWriMo Day Six

(With apologies to Bob Dylan's Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues)

When you're tossed in the midst of Custom Pub and its file release day,
And the editor leaves and creativity hits a contrarian brick wall.
Don't try to game the system when the buyer's in a spat with Design,
Just get the files to the printer and go out to lunch with your team.

Half the players have already checked out of this holiday hotel,
They're making other plans and strategizing their next big deal.
It's on to greener pastures, look at us now beating all our dates,
And unless it's an emergency, don't copy me on any more emails.

What are my plans? Well, I won't be going south as I thought,
Maybe color some eggs, plant some flowers, or go out to eat.
Mom ask if I was going to church, and I said probably not,
But I'm looking at a couple of candidates to see if they fit.

It's a pantheist season of renewal and it's been a few years
Since I've been to meditation at the Buddhist temple downtown,
And the years before that at the universalist country church,
So maybe a congregation or a sangha would do me some good.

My wife and I were riding our bikes by the river and I asked her if
She would join me in some cultural research among the Presbyterians.
We'd visit and observe, go out to brunch, and study the data,
No eggs, no bunnies, and only two wheels on this cycling dharma.

The small-town congregation gave us an education in their ways,
They couldn't have been more friendly in their pastel sanctuary,
With lilies in the windows, brass sextet, angelic harpists, organ, choir,
Although the sermon was heavy handed and inordinately long.

With a table by the water, brunch was a complete success:
The buffet had lox and bagels, fresh melons, lobster mac and cheese,
My date looked great across the table in the gold and silver light,
Our waiter kept refilling our cups, and I wrote this with his pen.

NaPoWriMo Day Four

Very Superstitious

Stevie Wonder said if you believe in things you don't understand you suffer.
A drummer friend warns that a full moon is coming.
What kind of wild energy will that release?
Yesterday was Opening Day of baseball season.
The late afternoon sun thrown across the room at the rec center.
Feet stand on earth, head touches sky, think space, think body.
Tomorrow is Good Friday, marking the day Jesus was crucified.
Sunday is Easter, recalling the day he rose from the dead.
Passover begins at sundown, celebrating the liberation of the Jews.
The Masters golf tournament takes place this week in Augusta.
To my knowledge there is no tournament called The Slaves.
That would be in poor taste, but hope springs eternal.

NaPoWriMo Day Five

Does every family have a Golden Child
Whose innate specialness is obvious while
Siblings must step back and admire,
Acknowledge, acquiesce, resent, or revile?

Parents do their best to reconcile,
compensate, rationalize, and deny
that their affection for one is any higher
than for the other without a trace of guile.

The kids will have the last and longest smile,
the firstborn and the second will conspire
over beer and pierogis Ukrainian style
in Manhattan while we toil away in Ohio.

NaPoWriMo Day Three

Don't confuse the map with the territory,
the credits with the movie,
or the title with the house.

You might know every inch of the map,
memorize the credits, have your name on the title;
that doesn't make it your place, your movie, your house.

But if you walk the property,
suspend disbelief, sit through the movie,
and inhabit the house, you own it with your body.

Don't judge a book by its cover,
a snack by its packaging,
or a suit by its designer label.

But if you're paid to make labels,
manage files, transfer titles,
design covers, make bookmaps,

or package the snack in all its cheesy goodness,
by all means take it seriously, just don't
spend all day in the flat screen two dimensions.