Friday, January 27, 2017

What Chance

What Chance

You were waiting by a doorway
for the bus—and smiled at me.
And I at first ignored this—
until you came to mind.
I only then responded—
but your eyes were smiling still.
And later, you had dropped by,
for half an hour or so.
Our hands had touched, so briefly—
with a current passing through.

For a quarter of a century,
I have seen you come and go—
so near and yet so distant—
and always in my mind.

There’s a bond that long has linked us,
in the strangest kind of way.
It has kept us always tethered,
but always still apart.

I have seen your bloom, your fading.
I have memorized your face—
the curving of your eyelids—
your planes and shapes and shades.
There were dreams I had of holding
your form within my arms—
and I always then dismissed these
as idle thoughts that passed.
I even dreamt we had kissed, once,
but I smiled—and said, “What chance!”
2017 January 27th, Fri.
Brooklyn, New York

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Not Made for Me and You

Not Made for Me and You  
Did King Philip's Class Order Five Giant Spiders?
Taxonomy of Ursus americanus

We have left the wells of wisdom.
We have thirsted long instead.
Let us quench the fires of madness—
be free of greed and dread.
There are places in the forests
where we humans haven't been,
who are caught in nets so tangled
or are spiders spinning webs.
There are places in the mountains
that have kept their beauty still—
where the mists caress the cedars
and the peaks are kissed by dawn.

There are places on the planet
that are not in Mammon's realm,
though he hungers to possess them—
so his serfs can till and reap.

There are places sans an “owner”
that are sacred to the few
who remember that this planet
wasn't made for me and you.

There are humans, in those places,
who are free of Mammon's yoke.
But their songs are near their endings—
as their bondage now is due.


Arise and hear their singing;
relearn the gentler dance.
Let us rid ourselves of Mammon—
be free of him—at last!

The grain he craves is silver—
its value gauged in sweat.
He kills the things of beauty
and steels our hearts to dread.

The beings of this planet
have made this wondrous world.
Together, we can make it
so beauty has a chance.

There's a beauty that's around us;
there's a beauty in the heart.
Let us turn towards that beauty—
let ugliness depart.

How much of woe and sorrow
has Mammon wrought on Earth,
with the “word of God” proclaiming
that this world was made for us?


There's a wisdom that's around us;
there's a wisdom in the heart.
Let us drink again of wisdom—
let greed and fear depart.

2017 January 24th, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York  

Note: Two sets, of eight images each, follow below.

Stream in a tropical forest
Morning fog in dense tropical forest

Kanchenjuga at dawn, eastern Himalaya

Boreal forest, Alberta, Canada.

Named for Boreas, the Greek god of the north wind, the boreal forest is a critically important breeding ground for North American birds. The Albany River (shown here) divides the partially protected northern boreal from the imperiled south. Photo: Per Breiehagen

San Bushman father hugging his children

The Bushmen Tribe of Tsumkwe
San woman holding her beautiful baby boy

Halifax Mill Chimneys

Factories, in what was once woods and farmland

Horst Faas: Images of Vietnam War

A child clings to his bound father who was rounded up as suspected Viet Cong guerilla

The Death of an Iraqi soldier, Highway of Death, 1991
In the 1991 Gulf War, American pilots bombed a retreating Iraqi convoy. Most US media declined to publish this photo, taken by Ken Jarecke.  His quote: “If I don’t photograph this, people like my mom will think war is what they see on TV.” 

ISIS Hanging & Burning Alive Four Iraqi Men

Tibetan mother and child

Amerindian mother and child, 1905, Oregon

Mother and child, Namibia