All poets are blind or should be, blind to the world they see, yet given sight to see what is invisible. All poets should stumble through other people’s lives, all the obstacles of a sighted world or what passes for sight. All poets should write about what they cannot prove because no one else can see what they see and no one believes what they are told. All poets should be blind to momentary monetary gain and accolade and just know what they know is real and what they are told is folly, because of course, no one else can see it. All poets should be blind and take their stick and use it like a rapier in defense of dignity, honor, glory and truth and only tap the ground for emphasis, not helplessness. All poets should be blind and cross the street to the […]
Twenty-Five Stars
We have a tradition at our home this time of year. On December First I put a star in our yard and another star in the yard north, south, east and west all around the house every day of the month until Christmas Eve. Then the twenty-fourth star goes up accompanied by the grandest star of all, hundreds of multi-colored lights on a wooden framework hoisted high into a tree in front of our home. All the other stars of various heights are staked into the ground, each star twinkling with clear bright lights. I use untold feet of wire and numerous junction boxes, all connected to one 30 amp circuit breaker in the garage. With one flip of a switch, I set our electric meter twirling merrily in anticipation of our monthly greeting from the power company. We leave the stars burning all night each and every night. If […]
Family Tradition
My uncle Edwin Theodore Hansen, on my mother’s side was a general superintendent of heavy construction and chief of police. He liked to camp, because he was a general superintendent of heavy construction and chief of police. He had a cabin in the north woods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and he often went there alone. You understand. My mother had another brother, my uncle Ted’s younger brother, who invited a couple friends to spend a weekend up at the cabin, because my other uncle had business interests and wanted to ingratiate himself to guys Ted didn’t know or care about, but in addition to being a general superintendent of heavy construction and chief of police, Ted was a heck of a nice guy so he said sure. You understand. The guys arrived early full of bluster and bravado and brought all their stuff into the cabin which included […]
Rachmaninoff
Do you remember? Sure you do. You remember the night, the weather, the stars. I remember everything. So do you. You remember the music, the masterpiece upon the air and my reply to your alluring look. You remember what you wanted. I do too. Yet what I did not know, what you knew and your hellish friend knew with you is what you would do to the love I composed out of innocence and devotion or try to do. You knew it must be sacrificed to gods I did not worship. I worshiped you. Poor me. Political you. Now I have the music. I play it for myself and those who care to listen, wondering how such strains of magic are woven from thin air. I do not tell I learned it from a spider who attempted murder accompanied by music in a silken lair. ♥