Leaves Of Grass Rolled In My Hand

 

 

A few leaves floated from the tree
as she turned and spoke to me
one curled softly around her head
like a baby dragon's breath.

The look that held me then and now
eyes of green, a jeweled brow
a glance would make one dance all day
remembering their recent play.

Although a leaf found in a book
with a mark said "yes I would"
drove me to consider when
she spoke about a residence.

And then the evening did arrive
in spite of patience sorely tried
I hurried quickly with a look
never having read the book.

Or the page was ripped before
by the owner much adored
pointed out in a few leaves
clipped and rolled hid in my sleeve.

As I followed Brookline Streets
to the place we often met
window high, tree limbs near sky
familiar cry, another guy!

And I started laughing then
poetry my greatest friend
Leaves of Grass rolled in my hand
and in a moment high again!

What Is A Story?

 So many things are happening now. But what is a story, Jack?  Is it an open diary?  Diaries are supposed to be private, are they not?  Well, life is a play or a story, according to the Bard, right?

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."

1. Our lives are plays
2. Our lives are stories and plays
3. When we write about our lives, we are writing stories.
4. This is a good place to write stories.
5. This is a good place to write about our lives.

So we can write about the things we know and things that happen, while we think and feel, and record thus.  Also, we can add things that did not happen or are changed in memory.  Now we have fiction.  We announce it as fiction. And go from there. It's a potpouri of adventure to share with the world!  I do it all the time. You can even misspell words occasionally. Nobody cares!  Maybe I'm a bad person because I do these things. I've admitted not having a heart on many occasions.  Maybe that's true. It certainly feels true.  But I do get zapped in that region by outside forces once in awhile. And it feels great. So that would be a caveat.  A caveat in the cavern of the heart (I'm going to pay for using that word, watch, you will see.)

My wife is suffering with a knee that gives her a great deal of pain. So we are going to travel to Duke for an operation. This will be the most intense thing we have done together since meeting six years ago. And just by chance, or not by chance, I am feeling a lot better with a new medication. You just have a gut feeling about people sometime.  Brian, the NP, saw us a few weeks ago, just by chance, and I thought, "I've got to have this guy, he's good!".   And he popped a new pill should have been on the scoreboard years ago, would have eliminated much suffering.  On our second visit!  So now we can do the same thing with the slow folks in Roanoke. Late October?  I don't think so!  How about next week at Duke?  My mind is working better.  Gemini is helping me figure things out. I'm doing a contest for the first time in AP.  Writing better poems without any help.  Gemini is not very good writing verse. She's brilliant elsewhere but imagination is limited. 

So what is the story?  I'm thinking there are no coincidences.  There are few things not planned before birth. Travelers to the other side (and back) often say this. I believe them. Things work out if approached in a positive way. It's part of a plan put together long ago. Be here for the ten thousand year change involving earth and the universe.  It must have been exciting planning that!  A lot of jumping up and down.  Yes, but, by the way, you should be married four times too.  Oh, down to earth again.  Bummers can happen while enjoying a great view.

So there are many things that are picking up now, and once Nonie has her knee fixed, the opportunities will grow.  Mid seventies does not mean it's over. It felt like that recently.  But Brian came along and I want to give him a hug next time we go in there.  They all work hard.  I'm sure it will surprise him a lot when he walks into the exam room and gets his hug.

He's a young guy. Tall, good looking.  I'm sure it will surprise Nonie as well. But I don't roll that way if you're wondering.  I just have a better sense of humor when I'm feeling like I'm not dying soon.  It's another good thing to put in your stories if you can find some time to try. 

Autorank doesn't think I'm successful but that's the remarkable thing about it.  I can write a story, pay for the privilege in time, effort and money, finish it and get judged as a really bad storyteller. Just like that! This effort was a 1.0 according to Rank.  It's a miracle really that  such an "opportunity" exists in this world.  It's the exact opposite of instant gratification.  Thank you Otto.  You're just doing your job for sure.

And this is my story for today, in any case.  It has drama and is not finished. Unless I die today.  That will be drama too.  I wish that I could write it but even Shakespeare could not do that. 

Out Of Africa

 

I watched her sitting in my chair

relaxed, enjoying evening,

a friend grown close, or maybe more,

a play undone with readings.

A month it took to tease her here

although we hung out often

nights she spent with her dear aunt

weekends were beaches, dolphins.

One eve we sat inside a pub

a table made for six

nine of us so closely bound

her thigh was different.

Again I landed next to her

here beside my chair

awkward beyond pleasantries

my arm near buttons there.

She asked me about breakfast

how did I make it? Tell!

Did New York have a chef

nearby? Her laugh was a bright bell.

Her knee rose up the armrest

I blocked out all the news

she didn't look around my neck

glanced up, sharp eyes, new views.

I smiled and touched a button

slid it through the slit

opened up quick moving hill

and gave it a brief kiss.

My chair's now a museum piece

it will arrive there next

remembering the moment when

it nested radiance.

She raised my hand and kissed it

put it on her blouse

closed her lips and snuggled up

looked over at the couch.

Heaven is remarkable

they say it sits up there

but I can see just where it goes

it can claim anywhere.

Then she rose above me

pulled off her silken blouse

revealing pointed meanings

deep curves towards the couch.

There's where our movie started

a classic was unreeled

her lips were playing many parts

they spoke, I wrote appeals.

My hand ran down her back

tested, then further down explored

to reach the bottom of the world

where we reached the foard.

In the Serengeti

endless plain of life

I tore into her underwear

we crossed the river twice.

We were gazelles in flight that night

sharp crocs always nearby,

in darkness reaching shore

we slept,

dear friends again,

alive.

Writing About Childhood

 

We were very fortunate as children we had a small summer cottage on a lake in central Massachusetts.  I was about eight when we got it.  I remember an old fisherman talking to my dad down by the water.  He sold it to us and we built a porch on the water side with four huge windows that opened up and let in the air and the sounds from the lake.  Motorboats, cracks of lightning and water lapping against the two foot concrete wall and stairs that held the yard in place made it a special place. There was a sandy bottom and father built a little six by six platform on stilts out in the deep water.  At some point I would paint faces on rocks and leave them out there on the bottom of the lake. Dad was diving one day and came upon them.  He was quite amused. It was probably the best feedback I ever got from him  He seemed genuinely happy. 

There wasn't much to the cottage itself. It had a single bathroom with no shower or tub.  There was a window connecting it to the one bedroom. This was eventually painted because I was peeking one day and my sister ratted me out to Mom.  Seems like it should have been painted before that happened.  Just sayin.  There was a small kitchen that led back to the porch and my bed in the hallway under what used to be another big window to the outside.  Mom and Dad slept out on the porch.  I heard them one time out there loving on each other.  Nothing dramatic. Just "Oh, whatever."  Later on, when in high school, I came out here with a couple dates on two different occasions. Both could have easily led to loss of virgin status on both sides. And neither did!  There was some naked running around which was a lot of fun. But that was it. No worries to carry around for a month.


As I reflect upon it now I think that those events were connected in some way. Our family was brought closer together by the structure of the cottage. It was more like earlier ages where everyone slept in the same bed. Not as brutal as that but still a lot closer than the four bedroom Cape Cod back in town.  It was natural to see family members in various unintended states of undress while on the way or back from the lake.  Perhaps it was a natural progression to my high school outings with dates running around naked with the big old windows open and the lake breezes rushing in.  Everything was dark, of course.  We were quiet to avoid the neighbors looking in on us.  But, now that I think about it, they must have seen the car out front.  And yet there were no lights on.  Hmmmm.  The closest neighbor had a teenage son my age so perhaps they just felt like they had enough problems.  Why look for more?  There were no drugs or alcohol involved.  Just lovely bodies running around and trying to find the moon for a better perspective.  And much kissing and petting.  Oh yes, much of that to remember. 

In high school I was the president of the cultural exchange program that brought students from other countries to our school and the reverse process too.  I remember the wonderful girl we had from Brazil one year.  She was dark and quite petit. She had a wonderful personality, always laughing and a little shy.  She was beautiful.  I invited her out the the cottage, we call it "the camp" one weekend and we had a great time.  We took the boat out and cruised the lake.  I think she really enjoyed it.  I remember we had one kiss at some point.  And I remember the kiss.  It was exotic and wonderful.  It was the greatest pleasure in the world at that time.  And that was it!  I never invited her out to our place again.  I never asked her out.  I often wonder what was wrong with me back then on certain occasions.  It was not, as a general rule, the way I proceeded with affairs of the heart.  In any case, it was certainly a good thing that I did not get involved with a foreign exchange student in any way that could have led to broken hearts on either side.  As president of the org. that would not have been a good move.  It most certainly have led to the loss of a four year scholarship I received at graduation and a change of venue for the next four years.  Boston University would not have been on the table at that point.  Although one can only imagine, at that time, tuitions that were around one thousand dollars per semester.


I remember sleeping out on the porch when my parents were back in the bedroom (it's really hard figuring out where everyone must have slept.  I had three sisters.  Where did they sleep?)  Did I ever inquire or show any interest?  Doubtful.  But sleeping on the porch with the windows open and the night breeze coming in, the moon up there peeking between the tree limbs, was pretty nice.  it wasn't the Bahamas. But it was a memory that will keep you around for a few years.  And the squirrels tap dancing on the roof in the morning was a sound effect that stays with me now.  The stillness of the water in the early morning was amazing.  It was an enormous mirror and completely silent. There was something vaguely holy about it as well. I could imagine the souls of everyone around the lake out there in their dreams, caring for each other in a neighborly way. And there was just an occasional kiss from a fish spreading rings towards me on the shore as I attempted to make their day with a line and some bait.  You could always see them down below circling whatever got tossed their way.  They were not big fans of marshmallows.  I really did not fit into that scene and as I grew older spent less and less time fishing.  As you can see there were other things to catch.  They were not "things" of course.  I search for a word to put in that sentence but cannot come up with one.  We go from fish to ladies and then later to lovers.  And then much later back to fish and food for dinner.  Wives who prepare great meals and have a kind word for an old man.  It is a progression towards the peace on can see on an early morning lake before the boats and breezes arrive.  We are where we should be before we even start on our travels, if only we had known. 

I spent hours in a hammock between  two trees reading books about faraway places.  Mao was in the news back then.  You couldn't get further away than that.  And lives that seemed far riskier than mine although I nearly died at the hospital in Worcester.  This may have been why they bought the cottage in the first place. The times line up pretty well. I don't remember any kisses during that trip.  Just being eight years old and enduring lots of needles in the ass. It will teach you something though. I recall everyone laughing when I returned for an OP visit to the clinic and walked up to the nurse with everyone watching lowered my trousers and stuck out my butt.  Other than that, the happiest, most peaceful moments must have been those close to dying.  And my little radio full of magic.  McDonald hamburgers for 25 cents. The last thing to go is sound.

I was never much of an athlete but I learned to slalom ski and enjoyed tumbling in the water.  Crashes that never hurt too much. I wore thick glasses but got contacts later.  I got strong by high school and turned up first day with a nice tan and a new short sleeve white shirt, light brown corduroy pants and new shoes.  I was handing out stuff to all the class when I suddenly realized I was getting a lot of looks.  And it wasn't about the material i was distributing.  Something else was going on.  But I had no idea how to handle it. I was still trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about in the tv series, Peyton Place.  Didn't have a clue. I was an innocent in a strange arrangement of bricks.
There was much later that changed that.  Maybe I will write about it.  I enjoy these recollections.  They exercise memory. And they will be a keepsake for my grandkids, great grandkids...because they absolutely are gonna want to know.  Or not.  I know I would have enjoyed it with my grandparents from Wales and othe places. 

And one more memory I had forgotten about until now.  All of us standing in the water waist deep in the early morning with a couple of bars of ivory soap.  Because, as I said, there was no bathtub or shower in the cottage.  Every one soaping up while it was quiet and there were not too many people around to watch the family bathe together.  That one sticks with me.  I don't know why I didn't remember it until now.  Perhaps it was in a special place by itself with a decorative lock like some things are.  We got clean together.  We were a unit before we went our separate ways. 

Writing Exercise

 I have no ideas for a story tonight.  But that doesn't mean don't write. One can always press the delete button if nothing much happens.  I don't want to waste your time.  It is like doing sit-ups.  Press the keys. See if the brain finds a gear.  Mix up the similes.  See if they sort themselves out. Why am I here?  That's the eternal question. Sometimes it doesn't seem very important. But it might produce something that is useful to someone.  Start where we are and move forward.  There are angels watching and they are easily amused. 

I have been taking a new medication for the last several days and it has had an enormous effect on my daily life.  It's not an antidepressant or muscle relaxant.  It is actually for physical stuff and it's working.  And my immediate reaction is fear that they are going to take it back.  They will refuse to hand it out after a few months. Maybe they will say Okay you can have it if we can give you a vaccination.  Just weird, paranoid thinking.  They wouldn't do that.  I don't think they would do it.  Would they do it? 


As I said before, it's a relative of Gabapentin. It's not a big deal. We went downtown today for some plywood panels. I told Nonie to be very careful driving.  We are at the top of the bell curve right now and it would be very easy to fall off.  This evening I want to thank various photos on the wall for the beauty and successful nature of today.  The real estate guy from the county slunk in here yesterday to take photos of the property.  Record the large shed we built a few years ago. But it's okay! Do your worst. The dollar is nearly worthless, anyway.  Food is an enormous expense.  But the county is going to get their dolaros for sure.  We need to stay ahead of that curve or on top of it. But not under it. 

I feel better, that's the main thing. I can relax and feel peaceful inside.  Meditate without physical distraction.  I watched two movies today. Neither was very good but it was awesome being able to go there. 

Some of the poems I have written lately are doing well.  And the blog as well. This month the blog had more views on the 15th day than were recorded in the entire previous month.  And it's all stuff from over here.  And there is a link from there to here.  It's cross pollination. It's all part of the top of the bell curve moment.  Really.  Something is going to happen.  Someone will tell me I can't write here like this.  Or I can't mention my blog. I don't know.  I do know that Kevin is very supportive and open-minded.  He's a details kind of person.  And he knows a lot about poetry I could never conceive of.  I'm an ADHD kind of person.  Nobody cares about that but it can be entertaining I've been told. 

I should just delete all of this.  It is purposeless rumination.  It is an attempt to fulful my prediction about sliding off the curve.  It will lead to no good outcomes.  It will garner zero views.  Humiliation.  But if it leads to one view that will be okay.  Because, in reality, there is only ever one view.  Mutliple views are, like any crowd, an abstraction.  Group mind?  Where?  I don't see it.  Always there are different thoughts, views, decisions.  There is only one person done many times. 

There, that's something worth saving.  It may not be true.  It may just be my fantasy for the evening. But we will go with it and keep writing every day. Because exercise is good and we are getting somewhere. We have this magic tool for reaching out into the world and, sometimes, even creating art. Writing stories and poetry.  Which I have done a great deal of here.  I know it feels like I am a slacker.  But check it out.  There's more to this than meets the eye.

And millions of people who have been innoculated with a giant mystery in the last few years are going to need exercise too. That's the final thought for the evening.  Grand gestures are percolating through their hearts and minds at this moment. All around the world!  One at a time of course.  And if they say I, theh writer, need to get a shot, well, I'm pretty open-minded too.  Also, I have living in the woods skills.  As long as there is some kind of internet connection and a place where we can meet it will be alright.  And it has given me an idea just this moment for a story. Plot lines are difficult to find sometimes. But this could work out. It might be a story or a poem.  It exists still waiting for a template.  Existence! Exercise is good! 

Otto is stubborn.  He feels abused.  He didn't like "I feel", "there is a".  Really dude?  That's all you have to say? He did say "vaccination" was a strong word.  So I suppose that is progress.  But 2.5 overall autorank?  I'll ask Gemini what she thinks.  Later. 

Thanksgiving

 

Moments are the fat, cooked bird

dined round the family table

wild dna spread over time

then clocked and dressed, disabled.

I am the wing man of the hour

mother white meat breast

father of the leg bones

with me

dark meat is the best.

Sisters are the giblets

gravy is the peace

keeps us all around the table

rich table cloth of dreams.

When the meal is over

good thanks be given go

everyone has their own room

leftover freezer zones.

Moments seldom find me now

I sandwich meat and run

saw a wild bird yesterday

asked her out to lunch.

The Ring

Oh we sleep and see some things

escape awhile from this,

one step for the dreamer

a leap for bones and skin.

Rocket away a little while

from mind as well as nerves

those strings attached

to arms and legs

are pinned to cold, hard earth.

It is a lovely morning

despite my aged skin

fitful sleep and dawn winning

Oh sky eyed bride within!

In last night's dream I found a ring

deep wide band of gold

asked around, what could it mean?

what have I wed, untold?

Could it be some common sense

finally aware

at last I have endurance

and marriage life to spare?

Sky news says that life will change

gifts from heaven come

starships saving everyone

from all the lethal ones.

Last night the ring was lighting up

illuminating rooms!

All the walls going away

trumpets and stranger tunes.

Maybe graduation?

schools all shutting down

where are all the spaceships

will take us out of town?

Partners made of wonderful

able to understand

float in space occasionally

connect with aliens.

Saints arriving daily

I see them on the road

some from further galaxies

and others nearer home.

Yes, I had a dream last night

and now I dream again!

dreams merge with reality

a word that loses sense.

Everything's vibration

Oh, we know it's true.

What happens if the master switch

is turned up then times two?