Friday, May 20, 2016

A Sense of Sudden Loss But Suede Still Walks


Once upon a mild spring day some time ago, I thought of all the possibilities I might end up with this. Not this of now, but this of something else. Perhaps you don’t follow. As I watch, middle aged, all the possibilities fall apart, I realize that they never occurred. In honesty I didn’t believe that the impossible might arrive, but I thought maybe because I see others with the program, I too might stumble upon it one day.

It just was never quite as it should have been.  Young I was quite trained to make sure that others thought the road I walked was paved with ingots, and I spoon fed what people, even though they didn’t want to see the bitter future looming, the aversion they so delighted in, as a magical vanilla essence mirrored in my adolescent eyes and beamed upon them.

As I sit in an environment, privileged to spy and be addressed to by a smile and a concerned eye, that never happened to be the core of my intimate life, I realize even more that my molecules do not and will not take a bite out of that confection. 

We are fed so many unscientific meals, we believe in the unproven.  “I need something warm,” she said having discovered she’d developed food poisoning. “Coffee,” she exclaimed. I don’t know about all you other westerners but we’ve been told coffee is a diuretic substance and unless we needed to shed bloat and puff to get into an Oscar gown, so it’s the last thing to cure diarrhea. By warm, my Asian friend referred to the hot and cold, yin and yang, properties of food.  

These labels, do we need them? I read through some novel ideas that formed a theory about my past years, and I could have applied a new label to me, something to defer some questions and uncertainties and explain the future.  It wouldn’t change who I am, all those lies ago, and today I passed on the opportunity.  How about less drama?


Let me tell you instead
about 
A pair of red shoes
At the bus driver’s side
Toes wedged next to the partition
(While at the concert......
No no it’s not right
Rendition
I’m listening to a damn rottened score)
Go back and visualize
You must see
The red shoes
Under the navy blue trousers
Soft folds enhancing the ass
Murmuring to the chauffeur
Scarlet suede on the 63
Then let me say
Corner of Rue Monge
(The noise is killing me
The pianist leans too heavy)
I prefer watching red shoes
Listening for soft leather
Seduce the bus driver
All the passengers also
Longing to get off the route
And me out of this hall









Tuesday, May 10, 2016

We Speak to Cats



We speak to cats
Chooky chooky
No real reason why
But we do
At times
I’d like to say
Chooky chooky
At a human
Reckoning
Aimless circles
Non-commitment
Tail switch
Occasionally
Hiding down 
Under sofa
Chooky chooky
I’d confirm
Instead of One O’clock
Monday
You will make it by two-thirty
Thursday
At best the now oops-passé
That nap
Hmmm overtook you
Such a long morning
Contemplation Ommmmm
Chooky chooky
 
I have a gift for you.
Bounce
The truth
On a string toy
Witness abusive fly
Containment in foyer
Your life
Slowly choked
Chooky Chooky
Pussy Cat
 
 

Monday, April 18, 2016

At the Patch

We were perplexed by the strawberries.  I nodded over at Hansel, we had quite a task ahead of us: to eat all of the strawberries in the second act pronto. One of my eyes was concentrated on the conductor and the other wondered just how Hansel was going to eat all the plump juicy real life strawberries layering the bottom of the basket in about six measures.  I was chewing on one slowly in between singing “Kuck Kuck” or “Guck Guck” or “Schluck Schluck” and Hansel, as far as I could tell, wasn’t tackling more than one strawberry either during her breaks.  We couldn’t get rid of the strawberries on time. It was slightly worrisome: We were sitting stage front with our legs in the orchestra and we had too many strawberries and not enough measures.  Was Hansel going to dump the strawberries in the orchestra?

“I got real strawberries!”  Announced the directress. We hadn’t had the prop in the dress rehearsal.  It was launched on us on the evening of the first performance. It was slightly disconcerting to be wondering how the mezzo was going to get rid of the fruit treat and still look at the conductor by the time I was to launch into “Hansel, you just snarfed all the strawberries.” Problematic props.

“Did Göring’s piano arrive?”

Okay so now I was no longer in Switzerland singing “Hansel und Gretel.” I was at a masterclass near Berlin.  The private estate hosting the event had a grand piano brought in for the masterclass.

“Albert’s?”

“No, the other one.”

That would be the infamous one then. “Too bad, his brother helped the Jews.”

Getting a masterclass off the ground is hard work, but at a lower level.

“He died. I was told I could use him to pick people up and run errands.”  The organizer sighed.  “Last week. Heart attack, quick and easy death.”

The errand man had taken time to talk to me last August whenever I was standing in the raspberry bush having a snack. He was very spry. “During the war,” he said looking at me with blue eyes under a mop of white hair, “I had to play in the Hitler Youth Orchestra around here. Played the…..” He liked to give out hugs and enjoyed being around the music.
I gazed at the raspberry bushes under the chill sky, just beginning to come up with tender green shoots, all promise, strewn with a heap of horse manure.  The horses out watched from the stable paddy as we waved our hands about standing on the lawn. The Chi Gong teacher happy bustled about with his set of brass bowls and gong hammer. The tent on the upper lawn shimmered embroidered with Taoist motives. The grand piano moved in that afternoon after lunch and was sounding good.


The strawberries were coming up too, a few frail plants to start. I remembered the patch’s billowy fanning leaves hiding the few remaining berries at the end of the summer. I had felt guilty eating them, whenever I found one lurking at my feet, yet determined to fight the ants from getting the first bite.