living the question

A leaf falls on the pond,
creates a circle and multiplies
in ever widening circle
I have seen it once or many times before ,
always seems surprising in freshness and clarity
a tiny wave, minuscule or a huge
one, a surfer’s temple.

But what’s a wave, someone asks,
it’s not water, it’s in the water, scientists
say, it’s a phenomenon,unlike an armadillo.

My life’s ascent to bed to rest
and wake to descend to my vicissitudes:
plural hours of pain and dark nights,
the fragility and reversal of remission,
the struggle to hold and throw a bocce ball,
the pauses after every aisle, pushing a grocery
cart, are real not imagined, like an armadillo.

I can’t strip them away. Lucidly
stubborn, I try to resist and should not.
Deep in I have to endure.

note: This a revision or expansion of what I wrote on August 8.

trying an imitation


“A wave is in the water,
a phenomenon, unlike an armadillo”.
I climb the stairs
and recite the opening lines
of Dante’s Divine Comedy.
I have to descend
to my vicissitudes, the painful
ones, they are real
not imagined, like an armadillo.
I can’t wave them away.

note: I’m reading,wave, at NPR.



2 years ago in Calgary (Canada)


note: In June, 2014 Mrs. Abstract and I drove  from Washington State (USA) to Vancouver, Canada. We took the Rocky Mountaineer train from Vancouver to Japser to see the Canadian Rockies. Then drove by car to Lake Louise, Banff and Calgary.Then flew back to Vancouver, took the ferry to Vancouver Island, stayed in Victoria then took the ferry  to Washington State and returned home.