From the minute we’re born,
to the moment we die,
our lives are a fistful of unanswered whys.
The loss of a loved one, through distance or death.
The passions we feel that steal our breath.
The stars way above us, both hidden and seen.
The seabed below us and all in between.
From the minute we wake,
til the moment we sleep,
we ponder the secrets that providence keeps.
The sun decamps as we march here.
You lend your heart, I lend my ear.
Rich tangerine and scarlet dames
command the field with docile flames.
As we are humbled by their grace,
lush lilac looms on heaven’s face.
The moon reports as we halt here.
I lend my heart, you lend your ear.
The ladies’ gowns have been concealed
and diamonds bright have been revealed.
Your mouth unfurls; I see a smile.
Let’s linger now, for just a while.
Delights of the night
have vanished from sight
and nothing I write
shall baffle their flight.
Delights of the day
are still far away
and nothing I say
shall hasten their play.
This meter’s snappy! What say you?
Its parallels are far and few!
At midnight, dawn, and twilight too,
an odist’s comrade through and through!
In truth its cadence is a bore!
It’s more or less an age-old snore.
Please put away this “two and four”
and just write!
Such whims you must expunge with every crumb
of heart at hand, for nothing but unrest
would prey upon the pride of those who slump
forth, called to be old outcasts, two abreast!
Remember days of mustard dust and nests
of grievous vultures, pecking ‘round your door?
To yell to hell with palms outstretched, compressed
by dappled fabulists whom you abhor,
is Thebes’ thistle—nothing less and nothing more.
Three beeswax candles burn to brighten Hallow’s Eve.
Pocked faces sneer ‘neath greasepaint; they are dying to deceive!
The wind is whimpering, now wailing, down long lanes
and leaves of caramel and carmine flit at window panes.
May souls who have departed from this spinning sphere,
come hover near the hearths of humans, whom they once held dear.
I went to South End late last night
to eat some oyster stew
and saw a wicked awesome fight
while sipping on my brew!
Sweet punches flew like fighter planes
from two gigantic men,
until some cops came bearing chains
and passage to the pen!
Oh, never drink to garnish joy
for joy’s enough,
but sorrow’s glass may be employed
when seas get rough.
Please burn us when dark evenings yawn.
and joyful days will surely dawn.
I recently finished folding one thousand origami cranes (known in Japan as Senbazuru) as a gift for a friend who is expecting her first child. This was my first time completing such a project. When I began the folding, my cranes looked a bit bedraggled, but after making 150 of them, I began to develop a technique.
There is a Japanese legend that says a wish will be granted to anyone who folds a thousand cranes. It is common for people to present them as gifts to family and cherished friends.
Dark night can’t hold you, not just yet,
despite this spring tide shine.
Run back inside and don’t forget
to warm that wretched wine!
sundry folly 