Standing on the edge of the field
the wind scything the brambles
toeing the brown grey dirt
through deadened mulch
my boot heel stretching
then
cracking the ice
I search for your voice
your sign
a sign
the terrible whisper
that freezes rivers
hearts
I come out here
because nature
is capricious
as often You seem
I still
cannot fathom
God as a Baby
or on a Tree
so I watch the earth freeze
turn white
clean once more
see the choir of snow
touch ice crystals
and listen

CHRISTMAS 2010

No one can celebrate a genuine Christmas without being truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud, those who, because they have everything, look down on others, those who have no need even of God – for them there will be no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, those who need someone to come on their behalf, will have that someone. That someone is God, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Without poverty of spirit there can be no abundance of God.
Archbishop Oscar A. Romero
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"And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans--and all that lives and move upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused--and to save us from our foolishness, from all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself."
— Sigrid Undset

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.


The innocent in gaols [jails]
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
Faints at the funeral home.


History says, don't hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.


So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
And cures and healing wells.


Call the miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there's fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky


That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.
_________________________________________________
_________________________________________________

From The Cure at Troy by Seamus Heaney, his translation of Sophocles's play Philoctetes. courtesy of the Ekklesia project


And,my all time favorite, from John's Gospel,the quote that actually changed my life when I read it shaking in bed
"There,on the shore,Jesus stood. And it was morning..."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
to everyone I know,Blessed Christmas, to anyone I may have hurt this past year, I beg your pardon, may I do better this next one.To all those who helped me[which is everyone] thank you,bless you.

So less the better

Fighting the flu for the first time since the early 1990's.It's wearying ,however,there are people who feel like this every single day of their lives.I'll take the hand I've been dealt...a right wing -nut judge in Va. overturned part of the Obamacare bill as "unconstitutional." America has almost vanished,Amerika grows closer.Justice is simply another commodity bought and sold by clerks in business suits...ADvent,onto more and higher thoughts, is 17 days upon us.My favorite time of the year, the weather is cold crisp,clear the air breathable ,I ignore the stores the black Friday bullshit,the Santa Claus monstrosity of consumerism, and try try try to focus on the Lord Jesus.And, I find it keeps me somewhat happy, certainly in tuned to a small stillness which resonates . My wonderful beautiful wife is an Advent person,filled with light and life, intelligence and the deepest compassion of anyone I've yet to know. I remember our first Christmas as parents,poor, tired, overwhelmed constantly [the baby was a week old]out of our depth,and i distinctly recalling that it was the first time i began to understand the Incarnation .We were happy, poor, tired ,confused, frightened, ecstatic.It was Christmas...

Blasts at 2 Sufi Shrines

The evil continues. Two more shrines in Karachi were bombed today,courtesy of the frightened and ignorant who fear Love and Light, and who scurry in the corner like vermin,or send children strapped with explosives or illiterate peasants to do their dark work. The Forces of Darkness cannot win,will not win.Love will overcome.We pray for the victims,the children,and the perpetrators,who are being led astray by sick twisted minds and souls.My they all begin to learn the Love of God .May God be merciful with them,Lord hear our prayer...

The Mets

I have been a NY Mets fan since I was 5 years old. I attended my first game, in 1965,the night they announced Casey Stengel's retirement. I do not know ho many games I have actually attended without ever having a season pass of any kind[hundreds }.I remember Wes Westrum and Sheriff Parker,Joe the Cobra Frazier and George[where the hell is the exit} Bamberger. I actually saw Willie Mays play for the Giants [SF} and the Mets. I was at a number of games in 69 and 73[and all the intervening years] I have worn my Mets shirts though thin and thinner, accepting the taunts of Yengee "fans" as one would catcalls at a republican convention: a badge of honor .I wept and got loaded when Seaver was traded, cried when Lindsey nelson and Murph passed, cheered when M Donald Grant sold the team he helped to destroy with such ease.So much for my Bona Fides. Watching another losing season with the ever dwindling number of fans, then seeing the truly bizarre press conference between the Wilpons[ons{I like Fred, his son, well, think Bush jr,Franklin Graham, for examples of not too bright men siring veritable morons.}Now, the bullshit that was thrown reminded me of the art exhibit at Bklyn Museum where the pictures were smeared with Dung.No thing, as in nothing will come of this. It is the bankers saying[in between guffaws] that they have learned their lesson.It is the republicans talking about unemployment and the recession as if the democrats were in power all those years.It is all lies. The new Gm will be a toady who will listen to the boob son Wilpon, Wally Backman will be the ticking bomb in the clubhouse[the fiery field general.sigh.weep]nothing will change.When the mets were good and arrogant they had color[and black players, by the way]These guys quit on Clueless Willie Randolph and nice man jerry Manuel. They should hold Beltran over the Kosciusko Bridge by his heels until he pisses himself and make certain he does not ever dog it again. Reyes should get off the HGH[oh yes, Thyroid,right...} and someone should insert a foot in his ass.Wright, another nice guy who lives off of stupid pitchers,either moves in or gets traded. Nice guy, so is my neighbor, don't want him playing third base,either. No more head first slides, 10 grand each time.Too much?Tough shit.If Pagan can run out every ball, if Clemente ran out everything, and Mays and Kailine and Henry AAron did, then these mutts should, too. And hey,Keith stop the bullshit, I saw you JOG down to first base many time on infield ground balls, and leave the dugout during the 6th game in 86,so stop this ranting as if you were Lou Gehrig. Time for an overhaul.Time to stop the bad craziness.The Tragic is back

See them as Roses

She shuffles
now
with a cane dragging in her right hand
sifting through garbage
for the deposits on cans
and bottles
she lives in a house
though her clothes are soiled
tattered
she has a name
though few know it
and more often
she is spoken to
if at all
in epithets
in gentrification
she is unwanted
as vermin
yet
yet
she
to some
who can see
with their hearts
is a perfect flower
created by love
nurtured
by beauty light warmth
O
to learn
to see with them!
to see angels perched in trees
to hear birds whistling to the Lord
to see God picking through refuse
looking for a Rose

the light

whisper
a prayer
of thanks
ceaselessly
a Saint once proffered
how that is done
has
confounded
irritated
moved me
since its encountering
I know
now
much less then when I was 20
and even less then at 30
unlearning
is more difficult
then its opposite
to pray with my whole self
is then
to offer what I am
broken and not
to That Which is Beyond
Any Comprehension
or Thought
That which
I put a name on
God
will do
I offer my
self
as is known only by
the Great Other
to become love
many years ago
a wise man instructed
me to learn to be great at love
to love as a flower does
like the rain
people talk about love
he told me
don't talk about it
become it
and when I was 25,I thought
it simple...

again

A dour day historically. The weather,though,here at least, is bright, warm comfortable.Listening to Dinu Lipatti play Bach,my children are home ,some playing, others watching a baseball game. The Me ts are done, cooked,well, they were done a long time ago. The republicans are poised to set forth destroying whatever is left of the country in November. People have no jobs, and yet are hooked into the building of a mosque.Don't build it, build it,whatever,it is not the big issue.Education, jobs,the environment these are big deals.The sleight of hand constantly employed by Republicans amazes ME, AS does the reaction of the polis.Sigh.How many times do you have to get hit over the head before you realize who is hitting you?Like this fool who wanted to get famous for fifteen minutes by burning a book.Why didnt the'press' ignore this hoople and concentrate on real issues:How much does Blackwater get EVERY DAY from the debacle in IRAQ?Halliburton? why is no one investigating? DOES ANYONE CARE?IS anyone awake??????

Come to me all you who...

THe LORD
___________
come to me all of you:
murderers
corporate raiders
doctors without borders

arms dealers
sex offenders
misogynists
maryknollers
good one and all
drunks
dope fiends
chronic gamblers
wife beaters
gardeners
little league coaches
astronomers
people who try their damndest every single day
and still can't make it
starving children
fat cats who get enemas to eat more
de-foresters
masochists
taxi drivers
diamond dealers
dope peddlers
lying sweating televangelists
porn stars
opera singers
pushy parents gossipers
saints
poets
good and ill
the elderly
forgotten by most
homeless
empty hearted
sociopaths
bombers of the undefended
soldiers all
every person who thinks they are beyond
the reach of love
or who don't care
gay lesbian transgender
all created by Love

the humble the meek
the kind
the honest
the kingdom
is always theirs
and ours
welcome all

BP,the Gulf

looking over the picture of the header,the beautiful beaches of Long Island,the crushing abomination taking place in the Gulf presently becomes all too real.Partisan politics aside,how can anyone try to defend this!?blind naked greed, greed that is beyond the dreams of Croseus , and still, the response is muted.What the hell is wrong with people?unless it literally touched their person it means nothing?how many times are people going to be hit over the head with a ballpeen hammer before they realize just who is hitting them?

How then?

I have seen so much misery
at night\between sleep
I see it again
the faces
the sounds
always
the smell
no jasmine nor roses for them

How then
to gauge happiness
so elusive
amidst so much ruin

it falls to my speech
to attempt
to explain
to fight
yes fight
the barren ugliness
with love
my love
for you

How then to
explain how i
have been gifted
to know you
these years
to laugh weep
curse sing pray
make love with you
to taste your sweetness
with every sigh
then wake each morning

how then to explain

I read where
John Keats never
consummated
his love
for dear Fanny Brawne
the act itself would have literally killed him
though I know
for certain
that I would have for you
and would have believed
that I had drawn the fortunate
turn
amidst the beautiful barren
moments of light

J

You came in Turquoise
reflected in a blue pool
as first I saw you
your bathing suit
wrapping your body
a mixture
of
swimmer and
farm girl
looking oddly recognizable
did we meet in a diner somewhere
previously?
instantly you dropped hints
which
in retrospect
I should have noticed
how
your dream was to
be an Israeli ballet dance
which was odd
since you were neither
Jewish
nor a dancer
you were
actually a devout catholic
who loved sex
a swimmer
and an occupational therapist
who was crazy about me
and I failed to notice
all of the words in that sentence
it would be volatile
argumentative
and nasty
then lyrical in bed
soft
so gentle it was crushing
I knew it would end badly
it began over a tea set
escalated from there
i parted with my beloved Indian blanket
friend of cold nights and picnics
as a gift
I thought in my hubris
it would ease the blow
I shake my head at my arrogance
you recovered quicker than I

years later,now married
happily
a word I never associated with you
I received a cryptic postcard
filled with allusions
making sense
only to me
my last contact
it now seems

looking backwards
I know where I had seen you
why you always appeared so familiar
a dream
of sorts
you
are the Angel
that is used
to model headstones

Happy Easter

somehow, we've come through the darkness again.The Light is here,it is overwhelming, and beautiful

musings

I've taken to wonder, recently,about our shared enterprise.How much time do I waste watching the ridiculous television set, even if for only Hockey and now Baseball games?Would this time not be better spent playing with my kids,walking the dog, reading a book, listening to Bach or actually speaking with my friends?The contradiction ,of course, is that I truly appreciate 21st century technology , I love trains and planes and the internet and lovely stereos and that I can watch films by Tarkovsky whenever I wish.The flip side,is of course,the dark side.Folks,it seems to me, will always give up some freedom if it mean technological convenience .Cell phones,GPS tracking,wireless internet,the lack of privacy,the intrusion that has become the ordinary. Here is an example. I waited for my wife to come home by subway on day, with the ever loving Delenn at my side, and counted not the people emerging from the subway speaking on cell phones, but those who were not.It was almost 20 to 1.Now, of course, there are myriad reason why, the one that struck me,though was loneliness, a gnawing deep gaping emptiness.{Of course this is not to say that the phones are not handy, can save a life,etc.it is the somewhat larger picture, sans the extreme example used as a common defense upon questioning the reliance upon the phones]How much intimacy we have given up for just a little toy.Well, what do I know? I'll have a cup of tea, crack open a book of poems, listen to Bach St Matthews Passion, and feel content.

civility

Again, it would seem, I come back to this subject. Civility,or lack thereof , is a pernicious threat to the body politic, our rights,our very existence as polis.The insane rancor over the health care "debate" which was actually no debate but rather the insurance companies and pharma giants waging war,as they know it to be done. The behavior of the porcine politicians ,the lunatic ravings of the radio and fox folk is so repugnant it makes you gag.Follow the money.Find out who benefits most from this, and you will find the real debate.The war in Iraq, who has benefited most ?Certainly no the Iraqi's,nor the Kurds.It is the defense contractors and the oil companies.Is there anyone who still believes this war has been fought over anything other than profits?Does anyone really believe the health care nonsense has anything to do with,well, health care? It is about profit, who controls it, and who controls the debt.Jesus wept...

Mrs. Bruno

when I was very young
there was grocery store
smack in the middle of our small street
Mrs. Bruno's
we called it
she was an old widow
her husbands snap brimmed
fedora
soft and grey
hung from the top of a coat rack
as if he was sitting in the kitchen
waiting
her store,though
was magic to this child
candies breads drinks cakes
I imagined that the store was
as vast as a supermarket
its stocks never ending
once
My mother needed some vegetable
I told her I would go to Mrs Bruno's
she has it
i said she has everything
My Mom calmly told me that she would not
I went anyway and asked
when she told me no
I was stunned
I thought she could reach in back
and withdraw
anything
like heaven
I guess
I remember asking her
repeatedly
are you sure you don't have it?
and spending some time
astonished at this unfolding

we moved the next summer
I went back ,once to see the store
it was now decrepit
not at all what I remembered
[whatever is?}
I went inside
the new owners said Mrs Bruno was gone
and I saw the
hat was
as well

latter days

eventually
the number of bank accounts
401K's
stocks bonds
real estate
will be
as ephemeral
as eider down
sunsets watched
will mean
more than assets
calculated
the red and black
might describe the sky more than a
ledger

as I listen to Bach
drinking tea
i think of all the opportunities
wasted
missed
because
I chased a butterfly
read a poem
held my wifes hand
walked with my child along the
edge of the sea

I smile and wonder
who missed what?

open place

we want more
by we I guess
I mean americans
though pretty much
the rest of the world
listens the same
we want it all
now
always
we want God
boxed
tied up
neatly
used to
secure arguments
and quiet loud relatives
we want land
preserved pristine
and highways to get to them
fast
before they're gone
we want to travel
quickly
cheaply
to go there
and SAY
we've been
our passports looking like
a proud third graders report card
with pretty
colorful
stamps
buying
maybe a hat or some bright scarf
soon forgotten

that will fall and clog a closet door for years

we do not take time
to sit
to breathe
our yoga is a competition
we run on treadmills
the metaphors screaming
no one listening

perhaps im just getting old
recognizing styles from 35 years ago
newly worn as if invented yesterday
listening to the same tired
speeches
the same old bugaboos
the victims
always
the other
the speeches have become cruder though
the tone more openly
vile
and
ignorant
ignorance is flaunted
militant
and by ignorance
i do not mean lack of
education
i mean
the argument that
the earth is flat
because the bible is printed
on flat pages
i mean the OTHER always being
someone who doesnt look
like my reflection

perhaps im simply
getting old
the cops all seem so young
the winters seem longer
the spring so short a time
the music though
if you stop
is always playing
it is beyond the hum
the hub
the din
it is the mercy of the wind
the breath of the earth
it is the planet
itself
rejoicing
who the hell am I to
dissent?

now and then

...haven't written anything in a while, simply trying to keep my head above water, as it were. Been concentrating on Dostoevsky and Pasternak so far this year,Pasternak's poetry to be more precise.Russian novelists have such grand designs,Feodor D always reaching for the grey to colorize ,Pasternak going back to childhood,to wonder.Sigh. His verse can be so seemingly obtuse, no wonder Stalin reportedly said"leave the Cloud Dweller alone." when he woke up one day and decided to whack half of the writers in the country.What a sad, strange wonderful country Russia is!Sad because its history is so replete with leaders who were either incompetent or corrupt or deranged,or all three.sigh. I have such a deep love of the people there, their openness, their love of literature of talk of chess and tea. I know so much of this has changed in the last 20 years,though I wonder if these things are not genetic/environmental somehow...been reading a great deal on the Russian/German battles of WWII.I am no buff of war, i usually read the poets to find out what was going on during any given time. However, since so much of history is constantly re-written[even in the USA,I'm afraid]it's good to see other viewpoints.The Russian losses in WWII are beyond comprehension.The Germans behaved demonically on their way into Russia, and the Soviets paid them back.Of course the civilian populations were the victims.The women of Berlin, dear God,rape as a means of subjugation !The diary a woman in Berlin and the film are so difficult to read and watch because the suffering is so continual.Does the fact that the diarist was FASCIST make her victim hood any less painful? Did the fact that the Ukrainians and Belorussians not support the Soviets make their suffering any less intense by the Germans?War by decimation. Has the world yet recovered from it?

Annie

Each day
under the cool sheets I feel your
soft pulse
I wake to you
and have for these many
days
never quite able
to figure
to say
Remembering the
First time
I touched the outline of
your
lips
I knew what the movement
Meant in the shadows

what
your
heartbeat
does
always
gratitude
of sighs
of tears
seems
mean

and yet
yet
there is
that moment
brief
as clarity
when
I feel
{what I think }
To be
the
unseen
back hand of God
and find
of course
it is
simply You

Dostoevskian fatigue

 

After an afternoon spent in furious debate with a French New wave scholar over the idea of Jerry Lewis as modern mainfestation of Dostoevsky's the Idiot or Holy Fool,the Blog author settles down to a much deserved rest.

afterwards

We are different
you and i
we see
smell taste
in different
senses
i cut an apple
and offer you the sweet
you tear an orange
offer me
the seed
we hear music from the lips
of others
mine is languorous
yours a disjointed
cacophony
we view God

through
a prism that filters
the other
I cannot see
except for Christ
you see mirrored reflections
to eternity

do we then take our flowers
smell their secret
and disappear?
or is there
the slightest sigh
in the air
that keeps us
ready
the morrow

piss dream

they are there
in shadows of buildings
new old
huddled together
banded against
cold and cops and
callous stares

as I passed
a man
smiled
his decayed mouth

a universe shattered

either in acknowledgement
or pain
suffering is transcendent

i bought two cups of tea and a roll
sat down
smiled back
and listened to the wind

Helmuth James Graf and Freya Von Moltke

In the ongoing and laborious discussion on morality and ethics, it would be prudent to view how some reacted to true terror and evil.Helmuth James Graf von Moltke was the scion of one of Germany's most illustrious military families.{Imagine, the Lee's of Virginia as a reference}A lawyer a devout Christian, Helmuth Von Moltke early on, from 1932 on saw what was happening in/to Germany.He said to his wife" I read his book, he said exactly what he would do"referring to AH. He worked , then,for the Nazis and against them in the Foreign office and the Abwer.For the Nazis by virtue of being employed by them, and against them with all he could. His letters to his wife are filled with the details of his trying to help Russian POW's and Jews, knowing, of course, that the dread ss was always nearby. He was eventually arrested and murdered by the Nazi state.I mention this because his widow, his beloved Fredya died January 1, 2010 in Vermont, having outlived her beloved husband by 65 years.She worked for reconciliation all her remaining years. What to do in the face of moral evil? Read these letters, and you will see. Rest in Peace

Bach for the new Year

the New year is come, and with it more Bach.It's odd, as much as I love, for example,Coltrane, Duke Ellington, William Byrd,Monk,Bird,Dylan,The Beatles,Gospel,the Dead, Brian Wilson,Miles,Nusrat, Beethoven, I always fall back on JS Bach. I know little of music, but I do know what I like, and what I love. Listened to the Christmas Cantata and the Magnificat, now going through various versions of the Well tempered Clavier.Cliched as it may be, I love Gould's version best`.Till Felners' recent as well as Aldridge are both very very beautiful. Only Gregorian chant is equal in my heart to Bach,the way he makes everything sing,even silence.Don't feel like writing today, school starts again tomorrow, a sad day actually, the kids are gone,the Christmas lights go down,darkness is darker,somehow.I never look forward to the week after New Years,though i have some wonderful reading at hand, and the days will get longer,we will visit the folks in the countrysdie where there will be snow,etc.so we will have fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

Let's hope it's a good one,without any fear

Happy new year.Promise.Resolute.Foward