Posts for June 20, 2022 (page 7)

Behind the camera,
the woman who bathed them,
who washed and laid out their clothes,
who woke them and fed them and dressed them
this morning, who coordinated their shirts and found 
their shoes and positioned them in front of the celebratory
wall, who stood back and scanned every face and told them to 

Smile!

So she could capture, 
in ten flashes or less, this moment
she had to fight for on the way to lunch
so they could look back, old, and remember 
their family so young, so that on his Father’s Day
timeline he could share this beautiful picture and say 

What an utter blessing
these children are to me!
So amazing and easy,
hardly any work at all.

whatever the hand can shape
the mind can thousandfold
we are incapable of restrictions yet restrict
every day the fullest capacity to create
not create as in the mess that’s been done that is a different story being told not that but
the solution no
the alternative no
neither.
-the way in which life is the mind manifest
in the shape of the hand making
imagineer the world from there

hung high to dry
loose unbound twosome
lean layer of topsoil
                                   gone-

leaves of last year
given up for me
tumbled down in wasted 
                                   dusk-

trimmed to the floor
a place of habit
both hands working other
                                ground-

living or dead
behind and above
from bent bone and chiseled
                                      stone.

life-sized racehorses
painted by city schoolkids
stand on either side of the walking trails
as if at a starting line

Open the front door

and what a treat.

It was 57 degrees,

just what I need.

A remission of heat,

for a few days.

It’s refreshing and sweet

on this Fathers Day.

The flag waves softly

and the trees rustle too.

The wind is singing

good morning to you.

Happy Fathers Day

to all the dads.

A special shout out

to my brother Brad.

Beyond the porch there’s a pretty little mango tree.
Does the self-pollinating wean miss his/her family?
What’s the texture and reach of  mango memory?
Maybe necessary knowledge fruits automatically
when attention focuses fully on being a mango tree.  

i did not ask for much
from you,
though there was much
i wanted to give—
laughter, peace,
comfort, satisfaction

this does not mean
i needed nothing
from you—
i had needs, plenty, but
i wanted to give—
the way i saw
mother give to father,
nurse to patient,
lover to beloved

i am not saying
you never gave—
you did, but it felt rare,
which made it all the more
precious to me
and it made me
want to give
even more

you slept so soundly
in our bed, not knowing
how often I would lie awake,
studying your face,
your mouth, the
curves of your body,
thinking of what
i could give you
in the morning—
breakfast, the paper,
coffee, a kiss before
you left

i did not ask for much,
i wanted to give,
but now you are gone
and i lie awake
in our bed, not knowing
what the morning will bring,
beyond loneliness, and with a
heart that yearns to be
poured out for you—
lifeblood pool,
made for splashing, dancing,
painting, provision,
but not, my love,
not to be wiped away—
leave the stain
to mark the place,
so my life may count
for something, after all

i did not ask for much,
i wanted to give

Oh to be the light
inside a tulip, filling
it up, spilling out. 

Conversations lurch
towards the dark places
without warning.  

Drop the grab
bag of grievance
on the three-legged
table of relationship.  

Pick at the problems—
starving people spill
like stars pounding furiously
at the darkness of heaven before exploding.  

Part of peace—
knowing when to fade away.