Wet clothes hang on a line suspended on two poles
On windy days wave like captive souls
A passerby pauses as if trying to recall a forgotten task
A boy walking the opposite way
Tries to understand between fascination and true insight
He remembers he should get home before Angelus
Clouds darkening hurriedly in the horizon.
It’s becoming clearer and clearer to me that I need to leave the familiar, but I don’t want to do it entirely alone-I want to seek others who can offer perspective into my predicament, who can help guide my passage.”
-Suleika Jaouad, Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted
note: I finished reading Bewilderment by Richard Powers. Re-reading Helgoland by Carlo Rovelli. Reading for the first time Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah, the new Nobel Prize winner in Literature.
63 degrees, sunny, the tide is going upstream
Maybe
the scope of your vision is narrow,
the field is wide, memory may falter,
movement, persistence, diminishes
distance between remembering,
words will come in baskets
no barren day or empty life
even dreams have voices
do not cease
to take care of yourself
Rise, go, where nature lives.
Should I listen to others
who want to change me?
They have more imagination than me
I might have been influenced by some
but by persuasion, not by dictation
I listen, observe and decide on my own
Until she comes reciting her poetry like a song
I forget I have a pain in my ear, need a biopsy.
“Joy like a river in her soul”, words of a young boy
Sharing his mother’s state of being.
A town nestled next to a river
How does one tear down and build anew?
River dredging begins Flood Control Master Plan.
Town awakens, sounds of bulldozers and cranes,
People wearing helmets working
Design to demolish, preserve, develop, convert
Empty complexes, aging structures, dormant land
Long deliberations in what the town needs:
Hotels, shops, restaurants, or something abstract
Community park in summer turns flood diversion space in winter.
Building a promenade on riverfront,
Passageway along railroad tracks,
Connecting Vine Trail, continuity without impediments
Collaboration with artists and role of the arts,
A time for coffee and twisted cinnamon rolls.
One accent, the Passages, a segment of passageway
Once a haven for graffiti’s passion and restlessness
Now a channel for artistic expressions,
Vivid, vibrant, living project
Come, look, linger, get involve.
Walking home I hum a Dave Brubeck’s tune
I prepare smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich,
A bowl of peach yogurt and blackberries for lunch.
I take my time. I do not eat with haste.
Like town dreamers, like my friends
I, too, have choices and concerns
Should I join the frenzy of high technology
Pulsing reminders of “constantly possible productive moments”
Or walk with artists and pilgrims in shared humanity
Learn value of life, bear the task, persevere?
In my solitary walk, my mind can’t remain still
How will the young boy paint the river?
Let image follow imagination like spells of delight
Art’s idea whispers, shouts, bends then leaps to clarity
A journey of praise of what one truly loves.
In art and life, one will leave one day, the other stays.
I will write my praise.
I walked to the river before noon. Mrs. Abstract was doing her aquatic exercises in a friend’s pool.
The day was sunny with a warm breeze. Other walkers were enjoying the day. The fishermen were patient. The boaters were in full colors.
Happy Independence Day.
May be it’s to answer a call or blind fate in finding something
You decide to hike the Appalachian Trail.
The trail is kind to the brave and humble
The pain and sweat and determination
Stay with every step in solidarity with others.
To reach the summit the climb becomes steeper
You have to grab handholds firmly
And pull yourself up with steady upper body strength
In the thin air your heart has to persevere
Your legs gather the steps almost like forever
You do not lose sight of your stamina and purpose
Till a shout of triumphal gratitude.
You are in your nineties now
Seldom mention the deep meaning of your accomplishment
You often smile when someone talks about hiking or a climb
You walk only two to three miles a day.
Questions when I was a freshman
One has to have affection for those who do sweat producing work
They grind their way
The results, decent and laudable
Worth of respect and smile
And who can say, they will not chase goats for a game or
not write a guide for the perplexed.
Can you be loyal and articulate to an attachment you revere?
My heart is as peaceful as the snow falling on top of the trees.
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