Too much to juggle...

Enduring grace or ephemera?
I fear the fare,
When kooku cooks cook.
I fear the faire;
I fear..

“Circe’ this craft, the trim-coifed goddess.”
~ Ezra Pound

Please explain.

Circe may be at the Pound,
[Just as Mr. Ezra, too, got tossed behind bars]
And there are realms of Great Poems
Left still for me to read, barely have I
In this life scratched the surface,
For surely, such riches enfolded in books
Far more than one working life may know!
Time, and endless scroll, all time to unfurl.
Would that require of me,
As well to live my lived life ~
And read them all, and be a poet, too!
For I believe lived life at least half the value,
And literature, that Golden Cup, brimful
Offers, cups, that plentiful well from which we drink,
From where we learn, at least
Half our knowing, about how to think ~
When our soul thirsts, when lived life chokes life
From each of us, starves both mind and body
As it a will to do. But here, below, Ms.
Maya Angelou sums Suma cum laude, yes,
She says it all for me. No illusion, Maya
Does she put forth ~ surely she knows all too
Well that suffering is real, as everyday, proof
I see, confusion written on the faces
Who greet me on my Manhattan streets.

....Ah yes, suffering, real, but hope
May bring relief. Suffering, yes, a convincing
Illusion, Maya embodied in contusion
....but alas, that bruise, that bleeding body ~
I stand by the experience that it's no illusion;
As everyday, I see the proof on the faces
Who bear its confusion. Computer game,
Or value system? Solid earth or hazy myst?
Enduring grace or ephemera?
I fear the fare,
When kooku cooks cook.
I fear the faire;
I fear...Ms.
Angelou soothes my fear.

*
A Conceit

Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.

For me
Give me your hand.

~ Maya Angelou
*
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Bach, a fugue,
Now I'll go listen to.
Gotta shower, gotta go ~
Gotta get to Borders, O
Don't you know?
So like, know! Back later ~
PS. Where's that aligator?
Find his leash, tell the sheep!
Leonardo, yes, last sighted
In Harrlem!
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Calling Mr.
Cotter! To Holland
We must go ~ So, like know!

*
“Does ShE [reAl]Ly fLoat
Y]our[ bOat?”
~ Moi

“Do you kEEp a helium Tank
In y[our] bEdrOOm?
D[oe]S y[our] wife geT t[uRn]Ed
ON
By D[on]AlD
DUcK [voi]Ces tOO?”
~ Double-A

(*+o<dp>IiI<qb>o+*)

*

“Sigh... As usual:
Overcast here in Holland... And
If the cllouds go away for
Once,
The meteor shower just plain s-cks (like last year’s
Perseids..).”
~ John den Haan

&/*
Twang.
Seen Chang, that sly, shy missing
Hissing knowing
Siamese cat
Who wears Ed De Bono’s
White Evening Top
Hat?

Justice, you top, I
Zen.

Wow. Now I bow.
How’s that make
Form?

“It’s easy to play
Any
Musical instrument: All
You have to do is touch
The right key
At the right time
And the instrument
Will
Play itself.”
~ JS Bach

For a long time...[sic]
My life had reached
A place where
Little
Surprise graced my days,
Little sign of pleasure ahead,
No remarkable adventures lie ahead of me,
Or none that I could see. To say
I lived in constant pain overstates my un ~
Happiness.
To say
I traveled with my
Constant
Companion,
Boredom

Rings truth closer. Chimes more resonant.
And yet, not even
Thusly, fully the truth. So I lived
With no hope.
My malaise.
My dreams
Were pages in a book, I counted as days
Already lived.
And so, I found
My happiness in books.
Or rather, I searched
My happiness for books, wandering from page
To page, from shelf to shelf, searching,
Following a sentence that led onward, offered
Me
A window,
And so it was
One evening, long after
I'd drawn
The blinds, pulled
The covers to my chin, locked
The doors and retired to the book
Atop my bedside night table,
That I found
A story to my liking ~

From upstairs, you could see the sounds
Of the waves, even
On this overcast day, hear the tinkling
Silver, breathe the fragrant
Orange peel, finger the firm rind, taste
The sparkling bubbles against textureless
Glass,
Held on the tongue, tickling lips,
Opening passages,
Imagine the roasted pheasant,
With a pleasant curiosity,
I ~

“I do not know
If it would be possible
To experience on a matter of art, an impression
At once more singular and disquieting
Than that felt
By a stranger visiting Haarlem for the first time.
He has already left the railway
Before he seems to have entered into a sleeping
Town. The Kruisstraat opens
Before him, a long and absolutely deserted
Perspective.”

~ Henry Havard
From “Banquest of Arquebusiers (Frans Halls)”
From “Famous Paintings As Seen
And Described by Great
Writers”
(Dodd, Mead, & Company, 1905)

“Oui, mon cher.”

Where’s my chair?

“Uns.”

One?

“Houseboat?”

Loveboat?
On cruise control...

“Floating divas,
Duck voice mating calls,
Disney fantasies.”

Non! Just
My Opera Virtuoso Orlando
Dress Re ~
Hearsal dinner, with that Quack.
O guess what ~ The DVD
Fantasia I got! O too, Folly,
My goose,
Likes Duck Soup,
Gerbers Stew, too.

“Now
I know what
Bert
Means by weird!”
~ Double-A

You mean, those wires
I see, suspended ~
Flying me
Over
There?
O dear, I better email for my
Beth ~ a ~ Scope, aka
Mommy Diva. An avid
Socks fan, She, who also sings arias and
Knows He. She surely re ~
Collects
What I mean, I mean
What John sings. For I do not recall. But yall
Don’t mind me. I’m think ~ inking Berlioz
Aa-go-go. But De Leibe,
Nice, too. A virgin
Air line drafted round a garden
Court.
[Hey!]
Maybe Beth knows, too,
Leonardo’s where
Ab ~ Outs!

*
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*
~ Grande Perspective, A Reflective Journey ~

“...an impression
At once more singular and disquieting
Than that felt
By a stranger visiting Haarlem for the first time.
He has already left the railway
Before he seems to have entered into a sleeping
Town. The Kruisstraat opens
Before him, a long and absolutely deserted
Perspective...”

Leonardo
Blinks, hesitates, thinks,
Stands motionlessly, momentarily reluctant,
Nervous,
One would say, if one concerned oneself, were
To more
Accurately surmise his mood,
If observing his small body

~ Brace ~

Himself
Against a sudden breeze.
His
Hair, white,
Riffles,
Touched,
Felt,
Combs the wind, sparks a chill, traces
Spirals,
Races
Rapidly up, down, around his spine. A whine
Overheard, if standing close. But none
Stands near. His muscles stiffen. He folds
His tail close to his body to warm himself, unsure,
His resolve,
Unclear, unknowing
If venturing deeper into
This sleeping
Town
Will take him closer to his goal,
His arrival.
He knows
Not,
Before a sudden impulse
Prompts him to turn, tells him to
Glance briefly behind, past his left shoulder. He seals,
Encloses, exposes the image behind him,
The place from
Which he ventures. Satisfied,
For now,
His memory,
His picture,
The train station, he fixes his mind,
For fear, his knowing,
He may,
Circle back,
If the road ahead ~ The long,
Absolutely
Deserted perspective
~ Leads him back
Again
And again
Retracing his steps. He stops, his hopes
Hold the train station from which he departs,
Satisfied, in his mind,
Or as much as he allows
Himself
To feel,
His submission for his journey, has
He learned. Leon resolves
The memory,
Revolves his view away from the railway, turns
Now to regard the future, stares
Ahead. Be bold, Leon tells himself.
Leon steels his determination, eyes
The long perspective
Before him, inhales deeply,
Sighs sleepily,
Steps forward...

*

“Are they stars that once
existed within the influence of a galaxy or are there nebula/gas clouds
that are stellar nursery?”
~ Southern Hospitality

What’s a stellar nursery?

“What’s actually matters...
The butler did it.”
~ ugo

Did what?

"Does anyone recall the VF-published author's
name of the wonderful
explication of Botticelli's Venus and Mars
(ca. 1983-86)?"
~ Stuart

O, I would be most grateful
To know.

“Anyone have comments
On the Garmin Forerunner 201?
It wasn’t long before my
Timex GPS was on EBay
So I am trying to avoid that again.
Thanks. . . .”
~ J. Merrill

[Hey!]

So, like, Dude ~
What’s the light like,
How often does it change?
When’s this nightmare over?
EBay? Is that like, you know, Long Island
Sound? Xem
It? Or rhyme it?
Or just, forget about it all
And die?
Please don’t lie. I trust you Greatly,
You know. Your work,
My Dante, my style, my Idle Isle
De C.

“I have been using a 256mb mp3
Player for awhile now. However,
I left it at the gym the other day
And it was ruthlessly
Stolen.”
~ Schultz

Ruth or rude?

“I have been eyeing
Those portable mp3 jukeboxes for awhile now.
They have a little hard
Drive in there
I think
So can store
Gigs of data
Rather than the
Meager.”
~ Schultz

While you’re shopping at the 7-11,
And the meter’s running,
Grab
Me a snackie, please. Or Jack ~
In ~ the ~ Box
Or Taco Bell, too,
Fine. Perhaps
Too a Peppermint Pattie for dessert.

“Question:
Do they work OK if you jog with it?
I wouldn’t want to screw up
The hard-drive.”
~ Schultz

Just keep your shoes on.
That should do it.
Choose your ~ O
Know!
Terry, that you?
Bring that dog
Leash, please. As I know you
Recollect well, you’ll offer me that chain, come New
Year’s
Eve, 1968.
Just off Laura Lane.
11:55 pm.
A dark night.
A ditch.
A station wagon driven in reverse ~
No rehearsal.

~~ waves *
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~~ waves *

PS. Tell Michael’s Dad, Mr.
Atkinson, that Flyer,
Hello! Great book! Great Mr.
Rick Bragg quote there, too. Great
Grief commentary.

[Good grief! Here’s
Charlie Brown snooping around
Town!]

Or
Just see: Me, ca. September, 17, 2004 ~
I was looking around some pics of my hometown,
Which has been savaged by hurricane Ivan,
And I came across an excerpt from a biography
By the father of someone I knew.
This opening passage, from Mr.
Atkinson’s book,
Touched me.

“Rick [Bragg] was in New Orleans doing a feature story
for the New York Times and was interviewing
an elderly black lady in the ghettos
who had just lost her grandson
due to a senseless shooting. He described how
the little boy's ‘Dr. Seuss’ books just dropped
to the ground and the grandson died
looking up at his grandmother with a shocked expression,
unable to speak a word.
When the interview was over, the grandmother thanked
Mr. Bragg for taking the time to write
about her grandson.

Rick said that his normal reply to such a response
from someone consumed with grief
is simply to say Thank You and leave.
But in this instance he replied,
‘Why in the world do you want to thank me?
All I have done is to scribble a few notes.
Your grandson is gone forever
and you are the one who will live with his loss
for the rest of your life.’

The grandmother replied
by showing him a few carefully folded clippings
from New Orleans newspapers.
The little pieces of paper, coldly and briefly,
reported the story of her grandson’s tragic death.

Then the grandmother said to Rick Bragg.
‘You sees, sir, if it ain’t writ down,
peoples forgets.’”
~ Tex Atkinson

“Forerunner 201?’

“Yes. Comments and lots of them.
Ask Dr. Google.
Cheers”
~ DonVon

Who’s that?

“Then the grandmother said to Rick Bragg.
‘You sees, sir, if it ain’t writ down,
Peoples forgets.’”
~ Tex Atkinson

“Forerunner 201?’

“Yes. Comments and lots of them.
Ask Dr. Google.
Cheers”
~ DonVon

Who’s that?

O gotcha. Mr.
Charles Schultz said, “You’re a Good
Man, Robin Brown.” Betcha that Beagle 2
Loves Jack Russells, too.

*
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*
“Inyuranus is an idiot.
He also is really creepy in many ways.”
~ Martha

Fine, but where's Mr.
Stravinsky?
Igor?
Or Stativarias?
McTavish
Or Arthur fiddling? Or just a puff
Of Zen, or now
And then.
Future tense,
Or just my desk-seated posture-induced
Pruned down all around
Town’s Morning ~ Would
You mind explaining
Your unseemly motivation? Or just
A rite of my uncoiled Spring
Forward, Fall
Back...a
Ward, you are, Robin, of Batman ~

“Since Hell has frozen over, it follows
That it is
Not
Accepting any more souls and is therefore,
Extinct...leaving only Heaven
Thereby
Proving the existence of a divine being,
Which explains why, last night,
Teresa
Kept shouting ‘Oh my God.’”
~ surf

Whatever.
Clever.
So she read my Blog.

So like,
Is Hell a Theme Park
Nowadays? If so,
Tres tacky. Yesterday’s New York Times
Reports ~
“Orlando,
Florida, Incorporates What’s Hot”

Me, I gotta get back to the classics ~
Still gotta read Ms.
Wolfe’s mistook book, Evergreen
Wintergreen. Or chew spearmint or trident,
Chewing gum’s gumming up the works.
Hermes scarffed down supper
Too fast, too, then howled after dinner, whining
For an after-cheese-course aperitif ~
While I was on the phone with Mr.
Derimergers, reporting my impressions back
To him, regarding
Our earlier apres Ouji Board consultation
Avec Bill, Kelsey, all the best rest,
One lovely summer’s eve, on his townhouse deck
Wooden, blowing in the breeze ~
Whatever ~
[Hey!]

“You have to make the call for yourself.”

I did that. ATT
Told me my bill was late.

“Uns.”

One?

“Ones. Big Ones.
As in ‘a pair of...’”

Balls or [censored] or stars.

“Houseboat?”

Loveboat?
On cruise control...

“Headed for Viagra Falls.”

Or the Milky Way?

“Ich Liebe Dich.”

Please explain.

…drafted round a garden
Court.
[Hey!]
Maybe Beth knows, too,
Leonardo’s where
Ab ~ Outs!

“Well all gather the
Where?”
~ Double-A

Last scene, that Maltese Dog
Disembarking...

....a train station, somewhere
Outside the Holland Tunnel ~

[Hey!]

Baby boi! Come on home ~
A bone I’ll get you!
All fortified with a New Generation Bisphosphonate,
Just Zometa, or
A Meta Oz \White fluffy tall ta[i]le
Told to et
Al.

PS. Bring the gang, you know
Who they are, Leonardo!

*
“Uns.”

One?

“Ones. Big Ones. As in ‘a pair of...’”
~ Double-A

Sounds dicey to me.
Or para ~
Bolical. Or dia ~
Bolical. Or Constant ~
In Ople. Open
The champagne, please?
Cheers!************8

Ford the water, the Viagra Falls ~
Over the top, singing Christmas
Carols, rounds sung…

~ Slip, sip
Champagne
Avec Charlemagne ~

Ballast me, off center
I now go ~ sailing to

Ballicatter ~ A ridge of ice formed
Along a shoreline by waves
And freezing spray.

The Ghost~est~es with the Most~est,
Just my Sacred Host, of which I Boast,
Sailing my boat across the sea of thyme,
My ancient rhyme…

Eternitie
~ Robert Herrick
(1591–1674)

“O YEARES! and Age! Farewell
Behold I go,
Where I do know
Infinitie to dwell.

And these mine eyes shall see
All times, how they
Are lost i’ th’ Sea
Of vast Eternitie.

Where never Moone shall sway
The Starres; but she,
And Night, shall be
Drown’d in one endlesse Day.”

~ Sailing
My ship de
Fooles ~

* ~ You are cordially invited ~ *

....on a journey, just yall & me,
Into, throughout, as well,
About ~

Peterson Field Guides
EASTERN FORESTS
Author, John C. Kricher
Illustrator, Gordon Morrison
Vol. 37
Houghton Mifflin
1988

Perchance,
Too, to stumble upon
~ Mourning Would ~
So long I have, I do, I did, still am, too,
A wished-for awakening...

Or hast Thou forsaken me?
I think NOT!

“Natural history is an extraordinary subject.
The study of nature fascinated Aristotle no less
than it did Charles Darwin centuries later.
It still fascinates us today. Few subjects so clearly
and simultaneously appeal to both the emotions
and the intellect. A quiet sojourn in a spring woodland
is one of the most relaxing of experiences. The sight
of various life-forms re-emerging from dormancy
to activity provides a splendid sense of continuity. Emotions
are recharged as Skunk Cabbage pokes up, Red Maples
blossom, and the Spring Peeper chorus breaks what had
been winter's silence. Nature is art unbridled
by human bias. But, it is far more...”
~ John C. Kricher,
From the Preface

“Regards,
~ The other Alex”

Love & kisses to both
Alexes ~

…scam…
unscramble

“How do we define reality?
Can there be separate realities,
Or is the only reality the one
That we can physically sense
For ourselves?”
~ Double-A

Where’s Mr.
Carlos Castaneda?

“How do we define reality? Can there be
Separate realities, or is the only reality
The one
That we can physically sense for ourselves?”
~ Double-A

I once, briefly, crossed to the mirror’s other side.
And several times, alas, I’ve
Journeyed through Ether,
AKA, either/or.
Just a sliding ramp upward,
Or sometimes, yes.
A leap ~

*
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