Posts for June 10, 2022 (page 8)

The
boomer’s
a
groomer.  

“You’re
beautiful.”
Your
dutiful  

dad
knows
that
those  

who charm you
want to harm you.

 
Teshuvah… is translated from the Hebrew as repentance, but it literally means return, as if turning back to something you’ve strayed or looked away from. — Yehudah Mirsky, Professor of Near Eastern and Judaic Studies    

The rabbi told me about teshuvah: 

It’s what I should have done when I smashed
          Sister Veronica’s flash cards into their box in first grade
          but didn’t own up to the deed.
It’s how I could have walked to the confessional in fifth grade
          with my little sins.
It’s not scratching out Dad’s scrawled words
         in my First Communion prayerbook.
It’s asking him to play catch at least once.
It’s giving him a hug
          instead of letting him shake my hand.
It’s a walk across the dance floor.
          to ask her to dance and not worry about my feet.
It’s asking the blonde who lived across the street for a date
          even though I was going to the seminary.
It’s what might happen if I listened to Robert’s politics
          about how Trump would fix things.
It’s the courage to walk alone the streets of Florence
          and find Giotto’s parking lot.
It’s answering the letters she wrote from Argentina
          before the cancer took her.
It’s the years lost between me and the artist
          and each time we reunite.
It’s what lies beyond passion in relationship.
It’s after the monkey-mind’s agenda
          stops scrolling through my brain.
It’s the call of blue through the chapel window.
It’s the voice without words come with breath.            

Borders open, I long to fly 
to somewhere I’ve never seen
get lost in streets strange to me
soak in the sound of unknown words
greet strangers with a foreign hello. 

Instead I walk up a street
I’ve memorized these past closed years 
greet my neighbors’ dogs by name 
find a sunny table at a local cafe
eat shakshuka for breakfast. 

The quiet

27,000 days is it?
Like the 27 days of a housefly times a grand
Is the average lifespan of a man.
Just imagine four drinks a day
For half the amount of time—
54,000 bottles of beer.

That’s what appeared behind our family’s veneer;
bottles uncountable, broken, unsalvageable
Behind the farmhouse we all shared.

When it was clear that my grandfather couldn’t get a
Handle on it, Union Carbide moved him from Texas
To an office in Saudi Arabia
Where alcohol was illegal.  

Fifty years later
As I wrestle my inheritance
Of addiction
I think of the dry desert heat he faced–
Not by will but in disgrace.
His parched throat
Voice cracking talking to his boys back home.  

At the old farmhouse
Where we both trashed bottles and days.

Where I still received mail addressed to his name.  

Aphrodite was once
                        Worshipped
                                    Revered
                                           Hallowed

Statues. Myrtle. Temples. Shells.

She made but one mistake.

Olympian and all,
She forgot that first
                                   and foremost
“She” came with a cumber

Those “he”s that feared her clout
Stripped her of it
Along with power – her clothes
A lesson had to be taught

How dare she be womanly mighty?

Her tunic and her worth
Became one with the dirt

Overlooked-Jilted-Steppedover

A queen no more
Hooters and rump at most

For her slanderers to objectify

For men to testify

The cowardice wielding the backlash
The fear that can be seen in their eyes
Every time a woman’s fire
                               Ignites her light

Six
works
as
a 
group:
two
threes
or
three
twos–
six
sis-
ters,
six
sand
dunes.

I read today anger is a funnel

Frisky & me, we got a plan.
We’re taking Insta & TikTok
by storm, baby! We’re gonna have
millions of followers and a ton
of corporate sponsors who’ll pay
big bucks for every post about me
& my cat, who’s very photogenic
& what a sense of humor! Just
look at those whiskers! See what
he can do with a ball of string!
We are aspirational, dude, which is why
we’ll post content at least twice a day
so our followers can like & share
each tasty new morsel with their own
followers & their own cats. Gotta feed
the beast, but also keep it hungry
by staying just a bit mysterious,
teasing our peeps with hints
of an exciting new opportunity 

There must be an epidemic
of Depressed rabbits
Sad eyed, long eared, ratty furred rabbits   

What else explains the destruction
Of the shrubby St. John’s Wort
Nibbled to nubs