Tags
asunder, creative writing, immortality, mortality, poems, poetm, poetry, rhymes
all will be whole
some of us say
and so we may pray
our life away
but dust to dust
will ever hold sway
is wishing for more
mere child’s play
26 Saturday Feb 2022
Tags
asunder, creative writing, immortality, mortality, poems, poetm, poetry, rhymes
all will be whole
some of us say
and so we may pray
our life away
but dust to dust
will ever hold sway
is wishing for more
mere child’s play
16 Wednesday Feb 2022
Tags
i remember you loved chris cornell
and had a rough-looking dog
that took up most of the bed
a coppery pit bull mix
who you also loved dearly
feather boas in red and pink
hung just inside your closet
an explosion of color
that did a lot to brighten
the otherwise dark room
we had returned from rosarito beach
it was a crazy trip: mule rides along the shore
the poor creatures so beaten down
they foamed at the mouth
skeletal dogs roaming everywhere
and a bacchanalia of college kids
dancing non-stop at every club
we were unable to find a room
until one opened up directly
beneath a dance floor
somehow you slept
i stayed awake and in secret
read most of your diary
i never saw you again after that
though we tried several times to connect
each time you canceled or stood me up
the last time at disneyland of all places
months later i got a postcard
from grand central station
the reply i sent came back undelivered
i still think of you sometimes
never having known you
yet knowing you
i remember your lively brown eyes
mischievous and sweet
your sense of fun that took us
to rosarito beach on a whim
and page after page of a sadness
you never really hid that well
13 Sunday Feb 2022
the sky was a revelation of colors
amber violet and a golden hue
i couldn’t put a name to
the word miracle came to mind
as if that could describe a color
we mortals give names to colors
artists know them all
but i think only the gods
know the true names
and perhaps miracle comes close
to what i saw today
10 Thursday Feb 2022
she thought he lived in harmony
he thought the same of her
inharmonious beginnings
are precisely what they were
his worries caused insomnia
anxiety was her rub
but sleepless anxious nights do help
the broken fall in love
so now that many years have past
they smile to recall
inharmonious beginnings
turned out the best of all
08 Tuesday Feb 2022
“… it gave us the ability to produce a monkey model of Parkinson’s remarkably similar to what we see in humans”
why do we experiment on animals
aren’t there alternative methods
by now
i realize my question may be naïve and irrational
but still i wonder why do we dishonor one life
for the uncertain benefit of another
why do we pursue knowledge
by means of torture suffering and pain
in the best of all possible worlds
a monkey would never be a model
for us
06 Sunday Feb 2022
Tags
2016 election, essay, humor, job hunting, politics, short story
This true story was written soon after the 2016 election. I’ve never posted it here before, but since it’s my 9th anniversary keeping this blog, I thought I’d “celebrate” by posting it now because I’d forgotten about it and seeing it again made me laugh. I hope you find it somewhat funny too.
***
This is not the last thing but it’s the one thing that hit a nerve and told me that the underpinnings of a civil society had shifted. Right after the 2016 election, I applied for a job as a personal assistant to an executive of some sort and a few days later I got a phone call for a phone interview. The first thing the person interviewing me said was, “I see you’ve gone to UC Berkeley. You weren’t one of those radicals marching in the streets, were you?” Now, I wasn’t sure how to answer this question. First of all, I had graduated way after the protests I figured he was referring to. Second of all, I was proud to have attended UC Berkeley, especially since it took a fair amount of effort to be accepted, to graduate, and to pay for (I worked while attending). So, in answer to his question, I simply said, “Well, that took place long before I attended.” This man, who seemed elderly, judging from his gruff voice, then replied, “I just returned from the inauguration. It was wonderful.” Now, for the next few minutes, he took to bragging, and why he was bragging to me I had no idea. He went on and on about the inauguration, as if trying to continue basking in the awe and glory of it. All the while I was trying to think how to end this call politely (silly me). Anyway, I soon got my opportunity when he mentioned that the job also entailed taking care of group travel for hunting expeditions to Africa. Now, I’m thinking, “Is this some kind of joke or maybe a crude test of my political leanings?” Whatever it was, the last thing in the world I would ever wish to do is play a part in such a loathsome activity as that. I ended the call with “I’m really not the right person for this job.” Actually, I should say he ended the call for as soon as I said that, he hung up on me. Anyway, that was my own personal rude awakening, and it marked a turning point for me, because since that time other people, including some family members, have taken to blithely voicing biases and opinions that astound or just plain frighten me. And I keep wondering, what happened to critical thinking? What happened to civil discourse? What happened to us? I am no political pundit. I’m just a fiction writer. So the other question that comes to me time and again is this: Where are they hiding all the pods?