Mail men: leather bags, caps, big shoes;
they walked onto front porches,
with letters, bills, or draft notices—
seldom junk.
Now she rides fast. Much junk. No letters
or conscription notices.
Forever stamps may be exactly so.
Look both ways and pine for the past.
Amazon may own your soul or make your day.
Mind the gaps as you fondly recall the memory.
(The irony is that the USPS sends us an email each day alerting of the coming snail mail.)
Howdy, Y’all
My peeps hang out at the VA clinic in Austin.
I know none of them. Prolly agree with very few about a lot of things. It’s okay.
It took six months to get two appointments coordinated
(it’s a long drive), but I like it here (not sure why).
(Almost) all the paid staff and volunteers seem nice
and tolerant (from what I’ve seen, they need to be).
Eye exam. Will I see an optimistic optometrist
or a pessimistic ophthalmologist? New script
and my cataract is ready for R&R (remove and replace).
The drop dead gorgeous (and friendly) young lady in the glasses shop said I looked like Bryan Cranston (showed me an old pic of him) from Breaking Bad.
Go ahead, make an old vet smile, and feel good.
Couple years back a dude came in, sat down to wait,
pulled out his gun and blew his brains out. Yikes!
I guess he wasn’t there to get new glasses.
Some of us got some serious shitty problems.
Later, about half-past noon I got some new hearing aids.
Rechargeables because I drain batteries binge watching House on TV
streaming on Bluetooth. Thank you. I like them.
I am a veteran eligible for most VA services, either alive or dead.
I’m a vet but no old fart hats for me.
I’m neither proud (okay, a bit) nor ashamed of that fact.
Like being old, bald, male, or a Texas Aggie,
it’s just who and what I am. No changes.
Look both ways and see it all.
Mind the gaps, some of us need more help than others.
Sin, according to those in the know
can be committed and then lovingly remitted.
All it takes is a paid remittance for which
said sin remission is granted with indulgence.
By paying my way, so it is that they say,
with remittance my guilt is pardoned
all at once, and thusly,
Religious enterprise thrives,
a consequence of my temporal sinful existence.
Religion only if a god, because of
delusional intoxication being like love.
Look both ways because some god needs your money.
Mind the gaps and the go-betweens, who never seem to have enough.
Powerlifting Champions
A thousand people talking loudly
coaches screaming
lifter athletes
grunt and groan.
It’s breathtaking.
Look both ways because sometimes tragedy strikes at the last minute.
Mind the gaps for faulty judgements.
Blame it on the Moon
Is that true?
There is a me I don’t know?
One I cannot see,
not of my choosing, but me
nonetheless.
My shadow self,
a midnight me that
neither ends where I begin,
nor begins where I end.
Is there a pronoun for that me?
A he, she, or whatever,
a servile acquiescent person?
A deep and darkly denied secret
which is me
and not me?
Does my shadow me know this me?
Am I influenced by midnight’s shadow
as if possessed by a blind spot,
a truth I can neither deny
nor admit?
Look both ways for the existential self.
Mind the gaps for what is unseen, but real.
In analytical psychology, the shadow self (aka ego-dystonic complex, repressed id, shadow aspect, or shadow archetype) is an unconscious aspect of the personality that does not correspond with the ego ideal (which is?), leading the ego to resist and project the shadow. In short, the shadow is the self’s emotional blind spot, a trickster.
Lynda Lee Lyberg caught me at the dVerse bar today thinking of a poem about the mavens of music from the days of my time. While I must bow to the discipline of a mere 44 words, I will eventually make a much longer tribute to the quad of this week’s Quadrille. For today—this:
To Carly, Carole, Joni, and Linda
Music, Ladies! Making music was your life.
It’s been seventy years more
since you made your way writing, singing,
and playing for your sake and ours.
With Anticipation I’ll let Tapestry tell me
When Will I Be Loved since I see
Both Sides Now.
Look both ways and try, try, try to see all sides.
Mind the gaps when the beautiful ladies sing.
It’s where the love is.
Note: Maybe some young ‘uns don’t know that Carly Simon, Carole King, Joni Mitchell, and Linda Ronstadt were literal folk and rock stars for more than sixty years.
Click here to read more 44-word poems with music.
Acme Technology
I was at the self-checkout
scanning cans of stuff
searching for zucchini by weight
“a little help here”
for a friendly glitch.
It wants to know
How do I pay?
Card of course.
Push or tap?
The machine speaks advice:
“Please, take your bags.”
“Don’t forget your receipt.”
I wanted to tell the young, attractive,
and helpful (human) workers
about back in my day,
food on credit meant
the grocer or store kept your name
in a book, like a bookie,
then the annoying push-thingy machine and carbons
and you had to sign (press hard).
Do you want your carbons?
I would have bored them
with that not so long ago (true) bullshit.
So I took my stuff in plastic bags
and my receipt, and I smiled
and I thanked them by tagged name.
Two people I’d never set eyes on again.
Look both ways, AI (key word is artificial) is coming, scary or not.
Mind the gaps as some things (like legal pot) are still cash only,
but the drug dealers still allow limited time credit.
I had to look it up. Jejune means devoid of significance and dull. Its many synonyms include stodgy, insipid, vapid, banal, and boring.
Jerkoff
I don’t care
what you think
about
long dead
bukowski.
I read/re-read
(either way)
his non-stuffy
prose or poems.
why do I care?
he’s not jejune.
his paradigm
or mine?
Look both ways for truth and reality.
Mind your gaps but admit not your secret pleasures.
The dVerse challenge was to write a poem of precisely 44 words, not counting the title, including some form of the word star. I used the plural form.
Celestial Navigation
Way back,
before cell phones, Google,
moving maps,
and satellite navigation.
At Mather Air Force Base
near Sacramento,
I studied
stars, planets, the moon, and Sun
using a sextant, books, and computations.
The Planetarium was our classroom.
Navigators are no longer taught. It’s sad.
Look both ways looking at the night sky.
Magellan did.
Mind the gaps in the sky as you learn the names of stars, planets, and constellations.
Humble Sigh
She said, “I write
just for me,
not for any reader.”
All for her own pleasure.
So she said.
So she thought.
But, oh, oh, oh,
the smile she had
and the glint in her eye
over the magazine
that published her story.
Tell me that again my friend,
that part about the writer
without ego or desire
to please or to be pleased.
Look both ways and take the pat on the back.
Mind the gaps for feeling denied.
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