Life Amongst the Dull Normals

When a Friend Dies

2009-10-27T15:21:00.001-07:00

When a friend dies

By Marge Piercy

When a friend dies the salmon run no fatter.

The wheat harvest will feed no more bellies.

Nothing is won by endurance but endurance.

A hunger sucks at the mind

for gone color after the last bronze

chrysanthemum is withered by frost.

A hunger drains the day,

a homely sore gap

after a tooth is pulled,

a red giant gone nova,

an empty place in the sky

sliding down the arch

after Orion in night as wide

as a sleepless staring eye.

When pain and fatigue wrestle

fatigue wins. The eye shuts.

Then the pain rises again at dawn.

At first you can stare at it,

Then it blinds you.

the noise in the pool

2009-06-22T11:45:00.000-07:00

"You ask of my companions.

Hills, sir, and the sundown, and
a dog large as myself, that my

father bought me. They are better
than beings because they know, but do not

tell; and the noise

in the pool at noon excels my piano."

-a letter from Emily Dickinson to Thomas Wentworth Higginson

garden song

2009-06-15T13:21:00.000-07:00

Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground
Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
Till the rain comes tumbling down
Pulling weeds and picking stones
Man is made of dreams and bones
Feel the need to grow my own
Cause the time is close at hand
Grain for grain, sun and rain
Find my way in nature's chain
Tune my body and my brain
To the music from the land
Plant your rows straight and long
Temper them with prayer and song
Mother Earth will make you strong
If you give her love and care
Old crow watching hungrily
From his perch in yonder tree
In my garden It's as free
As that feathered thief up there

-David Mallet

still beating

2009-04-29T15:02:00.000-07:00

I know the dog days of the summer

Have you ten to one outnumbered

Seems like everybody up and left

And they're not coming back

The shadow that you're standing on's still here

Sometimes that's all that you can ask

And your heart's still beating

You're not the fastest draw in town now

How many times you been shot down now?

Seems like everybody else could see

The things you never did

But if you could yourself

You'd probably never have made it through the things you did

And your heart still beating, yeah

I know the dog days of the summer

Have you ten to one outnumbered

It seems like everybody else saw

Trouble sneaking up behind

Left you half dead in the street

But that just means you're half alive

And your heart's still beating

Still beating, still beating

And your heart's still beating, yeah

- Josh Ritter

30 Line Orphan Song

2009-02-17T18:47:00.000-08:00

Thirty Line Orphan Song

I’m not an orphan
Though my folks are gone
Left me with a softness
In the center,
Their lilt to a laugh

No orphan in that blood
Still flowing through
Veins mixing vintages
Into a varietal of temperment
Can’t or won't fake those

Sometimes you will see them
Without searching too hard
A certain tilt of the head
When lifting up a kid
Or kneeling in the loose dirt

Orphans don’t look
Like my Mother
When she explained
How mistakes are not permanent
Such a difference for me

Love doesn’t always last
But the bond stays strong
In these chromosomes
Things handed down
We hold like a fledgling

I’m no orphan
Not in this album
Tattooed in my memory
Cobalt indelible inside

Not an orphan, never

I'm not lonely

2009-02-13T21:36:00.000-08:00

I'm Not Lonely

I'm not lonely sleeping all alone

you think i'm scared

but i'm a big girl

i don't cry or anything
I have a great big bed to roll around in

and lots of space

and i don't dream bad dreams

like i used to have

that you were leaving me anymore
Now that you're gone

i don't dream

and no matter what you think

i'm not lonely sleeping all alone

Written by Nikki Giovanni

One Step Backward Taken

2009-01-28T18:59:00.000-08:00

Not only sands and gravels

Were once more on their travels,

But gulping muddy gallons

Great boulders off their balance

Bumped heads together dully

And started down the gully.

Whole capes caked off in slices.

I felt my standpoint shaken

In the universal crisis.

But with one step backward taken

I saved myself from going.

A world torn loose went by me.

Then the rain stopped and the blowing,

And the sun came out to dry me.

-Robert Frost

inch by inch and row by row

2009-01-20T10:31:00.000-08:00

We brought the salvia greggii

Scent of the west

the westringia fruiticosa

out of the Mediterranean

the lavandula Goodwin Creek

California's fecund riches

Young citrus too, a tradition

Round these parts

Dropped them into the clay of dry Ojai

Gave them sustenance from Lake Casitas

Made fertile with friend's words

the laughter of children

And some sweat from the old men

Bent with their hopes

for the same kids running over

This sanctified dirt

Where some day we will

stain our shirts and dresses with

pomegranite and peach nectar

Sugarplums

2008-12-26T15:09:00.000-08:00

Remembering the smell of Ivory soap washed flannel
Pre-dawn sounds, quiet in the house
Waiting, counting each tick of the alarm clock
Several rooms away in the dark
Uncle Hank’s manger with real straw
Sitting on top of the old Philco console
Our Southern California tract home
Trembling in anticipation
Fake icicles on the windows
Plastic snow on the tree
But the time was molasses thick and real
My brother stirring uneasily nearby
Waiting for delirium when we would
Be herded into the hallway
Our bent, bath robed grandma summoned
For the rush out of that chute
Into the dazzle of the American dream
The bubble lights made magic
Sending reflections off little appliances
Hoppalong Cassidy games
A big, shiny Schwinn kickstand down
Some so-what clothes folded neatly
Everything orderly, safe, deliciously new
Later little sister curled up near our
Friend Arlene who pulled the child
Into her Claire McCardle dress
Where they played Tickle Bee

And dozed like heaven had come down

My Best Message

2008-10-07T11:16:00.000-07:00

Ed
I still have questions for you
Still want to compare our aging mugs
Against those days on Annetta
Can’t get used to this
Vast breezeway in my heart
Want to leave my best message
It’s there on speed-dial
Yesterday, tickets to the game
I automatically wanted to include you
Yet your plaque sits up high
Out of reach, the dull ache
Thumping, straining
Beyond the tears leaking
Grudgingly, moving forward
Toward your tutorial on
The afterlife where LSD
Is just a walk in the park
The South Gate Park where
We learned about mysteries
Still mysterious and lost
How could this happen?
When my questions get more urgent
Where have you gone my homeboy?
What is it like out there?
When can I expect you

To return my call

Blood

2008-09-18T16:15:00.000-07:00

The Writers Almanac
by Glen Creason
Selected Poems) --THURSDAY, 8 February 2009Listen (RealAudio) How to listen

Poem: “Blood”

Bloody, bawling, bundle of anxious questions
I held her up, our eyes locked in love
Where would we go from there?
Her jagged breaths were my own
Sleep never seemed to matter then
We held each other up together
Constant as the northern star
This glowing stellar child in my heart
I held her up to see the monkeys in the zoo
Upwards she made me stand in lines
Thick paper mortarboards and ballet tears
She held up to the lessons
Sitting up proud in stale studios
I’m the bedtime pony! I said
Waiting for her teenage exhale
Up she grew, past my concerns
I held her up to scrutiny
She held me up in mutiny
I hate you she screamed
I hope you die, the words cut
You’re stuck with me I said
Those breathes of bravado, masking dread
I can’t, I won’t leave that upward look
Years crawled past too quickly
I held her up without feeling
The ache she learned from me
The old man, bending toward earth
Broken hearted now, once more
Thinking my road was again hopeless
cul de sac dead end
The once little one held me up
Like once we craned upward, at monkeys
Forgetting to do anything but
Feel how wonderful the air
Felt up there.
Lifted up again

Ramblin Jack said

2008-09-11T13:48:00.000-07:00

"Now a Ramblin' Jack Elliot said:

I got these lines in my face

Tryin' to straighten out the wrinkles in my life

When I think of all the fools I've been It's a

wonder that I've sailed this many miles..."

-Guy Clark "Ramblin Jack and Mahan"

Sparrow's song

2008-09-02T09:48:00.001-07:00

This bird that sings, heaving her small breast
Becoming something courageous, wonderful
The song breaking the day’s stillness
Sweetening the world as it softly winds
Around the trees and into rooms nearby
Even distracted by our skins
We hear and exalt in the sounds

Expanding our slice of sky outside

These same birds, grooming
Sitting silent on the deciduous branch
A little brown sparrow ducks in ryhyme
Making no mark in this morning
Yet, when she sings it makes things right
Ablution in the stone clean water
Splashing the joy of notes over us
Hearkening the new day and hope for
The coming cacophony of the battle ahead

Where no such songs will be heard.

Dear Wrinkled Face

2008-08-23T21:15:00.000-07:00

Dear wrinkled face,

oh, lover friend.

Best enemy,

I love your hands.

That whole fine mind

every place I find myself,

dear wrinkled face

Such midnight love on this cross hung

would have scared us when we were young.

Our sweat flows down along this trace

The way is steep,

dear wrinkled face.

Why should we fear to say God's name?

We are from here,and go as we came.

We're part of all this terror and grace.

Give me a kiss, dear wrinkled face.

Though in this deal we can't always speak of what we feel

my legs go weak when your dark eyes light up this space,

We're yours, we're mine,dear wrinkled face.

-Greg Brown

The Layers

2008-07-31T10:58:00.000-07:00

The Layers

By Stanley Kunitz

I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being abides,

from which I struggle not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look before

I can gather strength to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,exulting somewhat,

with my will intact to go wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road precious to me.

In my darkest night,

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice directed me:

"Live in the layers,not on the litter."

Though I lack the art to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written.

I am not done with my changes.

restoration

2008-07-17T11:21:00.001-07:00

"By surrounding ourselves with landscapes that reflect the true nature of
our region, we embrace the unique character that makes California such a
wonderful place to live. The California garden is tended nature in miniature.
It’s not about the plants. It’s about generosity. It’s about giving back to the
land and giving oneself the pleasure and satisfaction of loving, getting
involved, and tending a garden modeled after the natural beauty of the region.
It’s about giving to everyone that sees and enjoys it the opportunity to
experience authentic California... "

What Are Years?

2008-07-15T09:27:00.000-07:00

What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe.
And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt, -
dumbly calling, deafly listening-that
in misfortune, even death,
encourage others
and in it's defeat, stirs
the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
accededs to mortality
and in his
imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
in its surrendering
finds its continuing.
So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
grown taller as he
sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty
singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
This is mortality,
this is eternity.

-Marianne Moore

2008-06-07T15:39:00.000-07:00

"Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom"

Soren Kierkegaard

living prose

2008-06-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

“Any man who can write a page of living prose adds something to our life, and the man who can, as I can, is surely the last to resent someone who can do it even better. An artist cannot deny art, nor would he want to. A lover cannot deny love.”

Raymond Chandler

My Reason...

2008-05-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

"No man can possibly know what life means, what the world means, what anything means until he has a child and loves it. And then the whole universe changes and nothing will ever again seem exactly as it seemed before." -Lafcadio Hearn

gallantry and grace

2008-05-07T15:54:00.000-07:00

"I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really."

"A high station in life is earned by the gallantry with which appalling experiences are survived with grace."

Honey

2008-05-05T09:26:00.000-07:00

"Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on wings of misery and travail."

-Theodore Dreiser

Melville's map

2008-03-28T14:38:00.000-07:00

Ironic, that
I am looking for the path
slogging in the heavy mud
following the routes and desires
the ruts and rocks filling the way
Sitting amongst all these maps
and going nowhere but
back to where I have been
"It is not down in any map
true places never are"
The unknown howls up ahead
like a fiend in the dark
I have got to get moving
the map says it is right
the pulse speaks of what
lies ahead
Nothing and everything
depending on the fork in that road
"It is not down in any map
true places never are."

Necessary

2008-03-19T17:20:00.000-07:00

when an old culture is dying, the new culture will be formed by men and women who are not afraid of insecurity.

Suzuki Roshi said "All of you are perfect, and you could use a little improvement."

Yeah. So, you know, one of the things with the bodhisattva warrior, they say that "No matter how far you get in terms of being unhooked yourself, or being happy yourself, or always look back at who you used to be. Never forget to look back at the neurosis that you carried for so many years. Otherwise you'll lose your contact with the suffering of other people."

So for the bodhisattva warrior, our kinship with each other is the crucial thing, you know. So it isn't that really you want to avoid the pain of the world, because that educates you about what other people are up against. But the suffering. When I remember earlier I tried to distinguish between pain and suffering? And that suffering is what could lessen, and there could be a sensation of suffering. So you're not trying to tell people that then there'll be no bad more things happening to good people. But that the good people will relate to things in a way that doesn't escalate their suffering, and therefore the suffering of those around them.

Shantideva said, "We, who like senseless children "Shrink from suffering, but love its causes."

Skin and wishbones

2008-03-11T09:57:00.000-07:00

Day after day afterTrying to understand
Why the world tries to grind you down
Make a ghost out of a man
Your date of grace is due
And you've pawned everything you own
I guess some dreams just don't come true
Nothin' left but skin and wishbones
Each year the world gets lonelier
And uglier with sin
You'll never see those blue skies

Through young eyes again
You've prayed to every god you've known
Just to wind up all alone
Your friends are gone, your mama's dead
Nothin' left but skin and wishbones
Spin the bottle cap
Throw a shot back
Everything's gonna be all right
Spin the bottle cap
Throw a shot back
Cough and cry
Lay down and die
Grab an end, hold on tight
Bottles and bones in the night
You'll never go back home
You old wishbone
Can't eat can't sleep can't think
Not knowing where to go
This is real life brother
This ain't no reality show
If suffering is human

Well I guess we're not alone
You'll survive on next to nothing
But you won't live on skin and wishbones
Spin the bottle cap…

-Slaid Cleves