Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: August 22.17

A solar eclipse

box of family stuff

we have to admit

it’s never close enough.

We search for the clues

whether cosmic or cousin

and sigh with unanswered

questions by the dozen.

 

This is my dear friend Donna, visiting. She is the one who gave me the concept of Connections and who lives the concept. She is visiting family and old friends and acquired a box of family history along the way. Pure awe.

Connections

 


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Connections: August 8.17

 My grandma’s tub had feet

and Olympic-pool-sized feeling

her toilet had a chain

that hung down from the ceiling.

More, the bathroom window

was tall and opened wide

so fresh air and scent of train

could cleanse the room inside.

Now I have this footless

peculiarity

someone mean invented

to taunt and bully me.

It can’t be cleaned without

risking tendinitis

when I fold to fit its contours

it gives me rigor mortis.

It’s called a garden tub

a pity and a shame

someone ought to sue

for slandering garden’s name.

The window can’t be opened

the toilet’s in a box

so I reach way back in memory

where my grandma’s bathroom rocks.

 

 

 

Connections

 

 


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Connections: August 2.17

“I get around”

 ah, Beach Boys and youth!

A few things have changed,

but it’s still the truth:

from surfboard to cane

we do what we must

so keep up or back off,

and pardon our dust!

 

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives

and a resounding beep-beep to D.J. Berg’s sense of adventure.

Connections

 


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Connections: July 12.17

The aging gardener

captured here

tells the story

loud and clear:

sunburn, sweat

arthritic knee

callous, puncture

sting of bee

ideas spawned

by maniac

with creaking

sacroiliac

swollen knuckle

blackened nail

back and shoulder

growing frail

in love of plants

all too transparent

oft perceived

as blithe aberrant

and yet withal

a kind of glow

why is that?

who can know?

 

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections

 


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Connections: June 27.17

The library was a bike ride away

back in the day

bumping up

oof

and down

ow

the curbs

back in the day

my kingdom for a basket!

handlebars and books

precarious one-girl circus

back in the day

a tiny place, that library

in a big summer

and the books whispered

take me for a ride on your bike

to that cushy old blanketed couch

in  your cool damp basement

and don’t forget

what this was like

back in the day.

 

 

 

 

Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

And thanks also to the Poquoson Library, Virginia, and all libraries!

Connections