BUCKET, HOSE AND CUP

by Writer from the Margin on November 26, 2016

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BOULDERS, BUCKETS AND THE HOSE

November 6, 2016
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The boulders indicate the upheaval created by a front end loader, the buckets by the casual carelessness of those leaving for the day. The hose, on the other hand, may be the unintended rinceau, unfolding the imaginary tendrils of a vine along the edges of a Book Of Hours, a hieroglyph from an age of meanings lost.

To begin…

ANXIETY, A POEM

September 30, 2016

Anxiety doesn’t care about the problem itself, any problem will do. The smallest problem can make us as anxious as the largest and none may be our own. Bombing a city in Syria, an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico or just a delay in our mail delivery. A bureaucratic quagmire in a city agency, or the arrival of a new but damaged refrigerator. The face of a presidential candidate? They all can equally stir anxiety. How about the hole in your sock, the last pair in your chest of drawers, or the soup stain on your clean shirt? We can wash out socks, clean our shirts and the refrigerator will eventually be delivered sound. Even the mail will come sometime. But the bombing goes on and the oil spill has left its mark. We do the best we can, even when we don’t suffer the catastrophes of falling walls and rising seas, but Anxiety, circling above us, must land again. This is how it is now. In this day and age of solutions.

To begin…

RUBBER BOOTS, PART I

August 25, 2016
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We are busy building things. We upend something old to build something new and the transition area is called the construction site. What better place to look for evidence of our habits.

To begin…

AT DUSK, A POEM

July 16, 2016

Always around this time, July, the fireflies or lighting bugs begin drifting through the evening space flaring up ever so gently. It’s festive, yet quiet. A mystery, still, that an organism so small can be seen from so far. They bring down the stars in the universe to settle for a time in the intimate night air we walk through, the cosmos brought down to a size more familiar.

To begin…

THE BOTTLE AND THE BROOM

July 3, 2016
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This will be the first in the series, The Evidence of Human Activity. Homo sapiens is a remarkable species, leaving evidence of its passing wherever it goes. In the days before plastic, to find evidence of our ancestors was special, the burial flowers at Shanidar, the tessera in the basilica at Aqueleia, the arrow heads and pewter ware in Jamestown. Now it is rare not to see someone’s remains wherever we go, our pastime tossed from windows of passing car, our newspapers and candy wrappers, our see-through sandwich bags, Styrofoam cups, plastic straws. . . But George Carlin was right, Earth doesn’t give a hoot about our plastic whirlpools in the mid Pacific. It’s the same effluvium of both cosmic and tellurian sources. But it’s our esthetic that hurts, the understanding that we must see ourselves in the evidence of our endless consumption, our souls in a trash can speculorum.

To begin…

LA PRIMAVERA

June 22, 2016
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Summer arrived yesterday. The full flush of dark green now prevails. A month ago it was different. Even the evergreens feel the tidal shifts loosing old needles, dabbing the face with green rouge.

To begin…