Oddments

In search of story


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December 22.20: Coping

Time! That sneaky,

cantankerous power,

measuring immeasurables

by paltry hour,

grinding slow

when I can’t wait,

racing ahead

when I am late,

deliberate, cagey,

ever contrarian,

unbending, stern

disciplinarian.

It mocks and laughs

at helpless me,

scurrilous in its

hilarity.

My clock has stopped

at ten past eight

but feeble tickings

reverberate

through quiet night

and restless sleep

reminding me

that time won’t keep.

It will proceed,

will not defer,

disdainful of

what I prefer.

 

When I was a kid, dear reader, time stopped every December and I knew Christmas would never come. How like now. Time does seem to have stopped, and I must thank you, dear reader, for being my new batteries throughout a tedious, painful, terrifying year.

 

 

 

 


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August 4.19

Sometimes

if summer is old enough

and the leaves heavy with heat,

continuo of cicada

tricks me, and,

for so brief an instant,

I am back

in the time of bikes, grass prickles,

summer sleighbells of the ice cream man,

clothespin dolls,

clover braids,

a time when we had not yet heard of

mass shootings.

But it — that time — knew of nooses

of word and of rope.

To go back is to ask —

how could a country of lynchings

not become a country of mass shootings?

There is no perfect then.

 

 


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Connections: March 15.18

Wait

is a four-letter word

shameless, brazen, uncouth

the dig of a bully’s elbow

 the gnaw of a blunted tooth

it stops the clock on the wall

and renders good company mute

makes us ponder our hangnails

and feel like slow-rotting fruit

impolite, crass and unseemly

intrusive, indifferent to plan

from childhood to dotage it stalks us

intractable bogeyman.

 

 

Thanks yet again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives and the ever-ready camera of the curator thereof.

Connections

 


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Connections: November 19.17

Like wingbeat

a million splashes

each the size of one cricket note

but together rising, falling

in hypnotic patter

tell the time

of in-between

neither fall nor winter

but cradling interlude

to hold the year

one minute.

 

 

Dear reader, ever since I started using this new computer, I’ve noticed that the photos in my blogs come and go. Sometimes they’re there, and sometimes they’re not. Please bear with me. I have no idea why the photos sometimes don’t appear. This one is supposed to have a photo in it, but it doesn’t at the moment. Perhaps sometime before the end of time I will figure out what’s going on. Or isn’t going on, as the case may be.