Damn Reality
Here I go again reading
Bukowski’s clear vision voice
poems lacking picturesque pastoral principles,
with plainly different aesthetic dispositions
of attitude nobody loves.
We know that deep inside,
his way is part of us;
part of him, hides in us.
How many ways
can we paint the same picture,
or tell the same story.
Look both ways reading anyone’s poems.
Mind the gaps hiding deep within when writing your own.
Watch My Step
On a recent sunny Spring morning I walked comfortably along the yellowish-brown path of a meadow trail. I thought I saw a snake stretched calmly across my path. The trail ground cover and snake were much the same texture and color. I removed my sunglasses, moved closer, and looked directly at whatever it was.
Sure enough, a three-to-four-foot-long Texas rattlesnake, one of our ten species, was calmly holding its head up and making eye contact. It was not coiled-up or making threatening rattle noises. I noticed its tongue sensing the air. Otherwise, it was motionless.
I decided the snake was probably a female, not that I could tell. I’ve always had better luck with female mammals, why not reptiles? It’s difficult to determine a snake’s sex unless you are an expert, a snake, or have a sexing kit. They cost about $70, if you have a need to know and are willing to get more up close and personal with snakes than most folks are, be my guest. That optimistic conclusion helped to keep me calm.
However, I was shocked when the snake spoke to me. She said, “Please, don’t make me move. It’s early and I’m still cold.”
I stepped back and looked around. I tried to speak but I only stammered stupid nothings. I wasn’t afraid and thought it might be a trick. Imagine speaking to any animal. My skepticism must have showed.
“Oh, please,” she hissed, “everyone knows snakes talk. The Bible? Eve? Don’t make me do that bite thing. Humans taste like soap. We don’t like doing that.”
No way! A talking snake. Unbelievable (except biblically).
I hoped no one would hear me, “So, what is your name? What should I call you?
She seemed to smile, “Call me Metaphor. We don’t use names. But, since I’m blocking your progress for a while, it’s apropos, don’t you think? What is your name?”
Holy shit. A philosophical, talking rattlesnake.
“I’m Bill. Do you want me to leave?”
She answered, “Not really. If you’re uncomfortable, walk around me and get on with your life. I’ll do the same. If someone else comes by, it may not go this well. But if you have a few minutes, let’s talk. Think of it as a game.”
Good grief. A fucking philosophical, bible-wise, talking lady-snake who wants to play mind games with me.
She seemed to like me. Other than Eve, who has ever encountered a talking animal? Ok, maybe the fish in that Hemmingway book. Wait. No, never mind. Now that I think about it, talking animals are everywhere in literature, TV, and movies. I couldn’t just up and leave without regrets.
She asked, “Which do you fear more, other humans, aggressively growling dogs, or snakes?”
I admitted it. Snakes scare me. “No dog has bitten me since childhood. People seem safe enough.”
“Why is that?” she asked, “Have you ever been harmed by a snake?”
I could see where her ‘game’ was headed. “I don’t know why. That is how it is with most people. No. I’ve never been harmed by a snake.”
She asked, “Has any human being ever harmed you in any way?”
“Of course.” I said, “Many times. We’re not very kind to each other. Humans have harmed me or threatened to do so.”
Then she asked, “Of the three, you fear least your own species even though they are the ones who have harmed you most?”
“That’s true. But most people seem harmless. I feel safe, most of the time.”
“How many people in your life have been killed by dogs?” she asked.
I replied, “Certain breeds and certain dogs can be dangerous. Most animal pets are innocuous, including pet snakes.”
“That’s my point, Bill. Some dogs, people, and snakes are dangerous. But everyone and everything is not out to get you. I can tell you are not worried about me, nor need I be concerned about you. It’s called discernment. You do that with people and dogs. Try it with snakes. Now we both better get going before someone comes. I enjoyed our little game. Goodbye, Bill.”
We maintained eye contact as I walked around her, getting no closer than she was long. I turned and walked away. It’s always best to let nature, dogs, snakes, and other people do the talking. When I listen, I learn.
Look both ways crossing meadows and encountering other beings in life.
Mind the gaps and learn your lessons well.
Now or Never
Sometimes, I thoughtlessly
sit down, grab my pen or something,
and dash one off.
Without thought, form, or plan,
I’ve lost control.
No time for provocative,
deep thoughts.
It’s just me in my do it now mode.
There’s no stream or flow of consciousness,
it happens without reservation,
absent of awareness,
I’ve no muse’s prompt.
When I’m done,
I turn the page.
Look both ways and write it fast, get it down,
save the insane. Mind the gaps and traps of the mind.
Today, I was to write a curtal sonnet. That is a variation of a (real) 14-line sonnet. Both are fixed verse forms with rhyming according to a prescribed scheme. I hope you’re not holding your breath.
A curtal sonnet is a curtailed or contracted sonnet. It has 11 lines with two optional rhyming schemes. I see it as a mathematical variation of a six and five (or four and a half) line reduced sonnet form. I consider any sonnet brief, so a curtal sonnet is a reduction of a reduced form. This may be the only one I ever write. Nothing said it had to be good.
By Reason of Conclusion
My search for some gods needs logical proof,
To arrive at most honest conclusions
From science I seek logical answers
To discover reality and truth.
Turn scripture from some reasoned confusion
Thumb through pages, bemusing all chances
None of this explains your absence of love
If my mind can manage not being so
Show me now please, your better solution.
Given you by a deity above
Now you know, I am a pro.
Look both ways because at the end of the day,
a poor poem beats nothing at all.
Mind the gaps.
Today’s NaPoWriMo assignment completed the first two weeks of writing a poem each day during April. Also called the “optional” daily prompt, it was (“a fun one”) to write a poem in the form of the opening scene of the movie about my life.
I contemplated possibilities and searched for ideas when I came upon the opening scene for the movie, My Life Without Me. It inspired me to shed self-awareness and identity with confused limited personal pronouns, to message with metaphor and simile, and to use immature grammar while maintaining context.
Cinematically, the movie would open with fuzzy, abstract, calm, overlapping, multiple images of a young child standing in the rain, eyes closed, oblivious to life and environment (but not in the poem). A faint heartbeat would be heard as the narrator recites the poem. The ellipses indicate that the poem does not start or finish (neither begins nor ends).
Page One Opens
…we are standing alone
in the wet warm rain,
an unashamed adam and eve;
my bare feet floating in sultry green grass
feels the soft spongy muggy earth;
your small, young hearts hear; your body
without clothing is not naked;
i am shielded by water;
they are you,
i am they without knowing or caring
for anything but the feel, sound, and
taste of innocent rain; i am new taste;
comforting sounds; our blind eyes closed;
neither night nor day; just warm
moist comfort and muffled senses
in neutral emotionless rain…
Look both ways and mind the gaps later. For now, just be.
To complete the first full week of NaPoWriMo, I was to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying.
I selected a Chinese proverb which is also a quotation attributed to Grantland Rice (which is the more likely).
“A wise man makes his own decisions. An ignorant man follows public opinion.”
Indeed, following public opinion is called argumentum ad populum (Latin for “appeal to the people”) and is a logical fallacy based on affirming that something is real or better because the majority think so.
Skeptical Wisdom
The killer of dreams may be worries about
what other people think and indeed,
it matters but shouldn’t.
People have died from their own ignorance
or by ignoring the fleeing crowd. Ask why
everyone is running away, discover reasons.
Learn. Make decisions based on valid,
repeatable, tested evidence. Be skeptical,
but listen and learn, or you may fail.
Opinion polls are often wrong. Opinions change.
Neither follow the blind nor be deceived by prophets,
think and consider and ask, then ask some more.
Public opinion is not always wrong, not always invalid,
it is not always all the public. It is not thinking, but evidence
that makes the difference.
And even then, the state of scientific evidence is fluid,
changing, moving. Contrarian thought is fine. It’s fun.
But in the end, truth is an elusive chameleon.
Look both ways to be sure the path is safe.
Carefully consider all options.
Mind the gaps well lest a valid exception be overlooked.
Science or The Anemoi
Navigators knew this before Magellan,
south of Polaris’ north star,
only north of Neptune’s equator,
sailors, worthy old salts,
aviators not spiraling
down, widdershins,
meteorologically,
that wind at my back,
meant low pressure
to my left.
By gods of cyclogenesis,
dancing to Coriolis,
or Thor’s twisted moods
of stormy anger and foul weather.
Counterclockwise wind
blows and grows around lows.
While tailwinds are fine for
cruising and sailings, they’re unwanted
blasts for takeoffs and landings.
Look both ways before you turn, either way. Mind the gaps for anyway the wind blows.
Gloss:
Dig It
Destined to climb
cliffs, walls, grottos,
towers, trees, and poles.
Discovering, exploring
hidey hole caves,
abandoned mines; hunters of
excitement and danger.
Excavators, trail blazers;
spelunker boys still alive want
to climb the stairs.
Come closer to me.
Look both ways.
Explore the Universe while you can.
Mind the gaps in the grottos for hidden treasure: the mysteries of the past.
Dear Grasshopper,
I’ve noticed that you seem busy doing nothing but lazily hopping about. You look brown. You were green. It’s past mid-October. I assume you’ll be leaving us soon if you’re not already gone. But why now? Your end nears, but y’all been jumping all around for months.
Alas, your hop seems to have lost a foot or two. And your wings look stiff. Summer’s done, and I’d say you may be too. Do you know that? Does it bother you? Any day now you’ll be sidewalk ant food.
Soon there will be none of you. Then, like magic, Spring will bring you back to life in swarms. Like hungry chewing herbivorous flying insects, you’ll eat and reproduce again as you’ve done for 250 million years, a perpetual plague.
And you’re not alone. Your eleven thousand brothers and sisters are your type. Let’s not forget your rude, thankless cousins from the cricket, katydid, and locust families. They are always coming around singing for a free dinner or a little play time.
The ants are busy. But you’ve laid your eggs. Winter comes. You couldn’t care less. You’ll just happily fiddle away your time until the quiet end. But is that really the end?
Sincerely,
Mockingbird McBeak
Look both ways, horizontally and vertically.
Observe life.
Mind gaps and notice change.
For a moment,
I close my eyes
and the moment’s gone.
My memories rarely
remain for long.
Soon enough,
today’s moments
are done.
This is Thursday.
It can only be today,
whatever the name.
Today
will never be tomorrow.
Wait and see.
Sun’s third planet
spinning in artificial time,
a wee bit in vast nothingness,
at the whim of some god,
or controlled by
meaningless unmeasured chaos.
I can’t
taste or smell Thursday.
Today sounds are unheard,
there’s nothing to touch.
It’s another day.
And yet,
like a spirit,
unlike
physical, practical things,
each moment of every day
flashes by—
irreplaceable,
never lasting,
instantly
forever gone.
Today is
most valuable.
It’s now.
It’s all we have.
Why can’t it stay?
Look both ways, but all we have is today.
Mind the gaps.
Enjoy life.
Our Literary Journey 