It’s time for a moratorium On worries and procrastination, On moorings and parking meters And slipped opportunities. It’s time for a rucksack manifesto. A few lines from one of my current favorites. It's still a rough, rough draft. I've been dancing with it for longer than almost anything else in this project. I've given up repeatedly, abandoned it, tried to forget about it. But it keeps ...
Midlife Mashup
Small Press
A press. A small press. For grapes and wine. For apples and hard, tart cider. But this diminutive hand-me-down is not the only small press that I have been considering lately. I believe that it is the right time for a pair of small presses. Companions. I can hardly imagine what spirited offspring they might conceive! ...
Rules
"Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… The ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… They push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see ...
Handmade Notes
If you receive a wrinkled Sheet with wine rings and Almost illegible green ink, Forgive cryptic penmanship, Carets and inline doodles. I wanted to share my words With you. And no one else. Smudges and all. (Source: "Handmade Notes", 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) This is the last stanza of a tribute to handwritten communication in an era of digital everything. Yes, I wrote it on my iPhone. No, ...
Private Beach
A real sign with a hint of temptation. Dare to trespass? To skinny dip? Settle in for a bonfire? There's something almost cinematic about this snapshot, even without seeing the sand and water. An invitation to imagine (if not to stop for a swim.) Age teaches us to sublimate our rebellious instincts, to respect the wishes and demands of others. Right? ...
Paris by Night
Perhaps we all live in darkness, drawn to the flicker of light emanating from a fading affair, vagrants bumping clumsily, intentionally, hungrily in a Paris night. (Source: "Paris by Night", 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) Some poems are conceived of tenderness. Others erupt violently, gasping for air. This turgid fragment from a prose poem called "Paris by Night" is neither tender nor ...