Equal Justice for All *
For the privileged few
Above the law
Who commit
Crimes without consequences
An accusatory asterisk
Is appended
To the motto proclaiming
Equal Justice for All *
Poetry
Cabin Pantry Discovery
Cabin Pantry Discovery
On first opening the cabin for summer,
on a pantry shelf sits a mustard jar
amidst ubiquitous mouse droppings.
Mice are so sly that we do not deny
their being at coining speech—here,
say: homonyms of spices and species.
Poetry: Diminishing Returns
Diminishing Returns
Being close
Is often good enough
Beyond a certain point
Chasing perfection
Is a fool’s errand
Yielding seriously
Diminishing returns
Poetry: No Chance at All
No Chance at All
A missed opportunity
Leaves a bitter aftertaste
Laced with regret
But it’s much better
Than the dull ache
Of having had
No chance at all
Poetry: Nirvana
Nirvana
I long to be free, in a world without boundaries,
And love what I see before I go down,
More trees and wildlife and clear waters to surround me,
A world all in balance, where peace and logic abound. [Read more…] about Poetry: Nirvana
Poetry: Hopelessly Lost
Hopelessly Lost
I was advised it
Would be tricky
Getting there
But I was sure
I knew the way
So I tossed the map
And in no time flat
Found myself
Hopelessly lost
Poetry: Be Careful Casting About
Be Careful Casting About
If you come across a beaver pond
where six otters swim and frolic—
at least that’s how it may look to us
—don’t hope to catch strings of trout,
which are tops on those otters’ menu,
otters who are in their element here
where you, when the trout don’t feed,
might as well be on an urban street,
trying to hail a cab with your best
Royal Coachman artificial fly, whose
hook’s barb is trimmed off because
urban lawyers are avaricious folk.
And who knows what bystander’s
eyelid you might sink your barbed
hook into—and should you hook
an eyeball, you might as well cast
yourself and all of your heirs on
the mercy of the court system.
Life’s Fleeting Breath: An Epitaph for Jeremiah Clark
The small rural cemetery that sits along Clark Road in Providence, Saratoga County, NY, silently beckoned me to stop and visit as it came into view one Autumn morning. I was happy to oblige, hoping to be rewarded with a glimpse of insight from these final reminders that mark the end of the life of those who, like us, also once smelled the fragrance of autumn and felt the warmth of the midday sun. [Read more…] about Life’s Fleeting Breath: An Epitaph for Jeremiah Clark
Poetry: Free Will – and Write Yours Soon
Free Will—and Write Yours Soon
Reductionists limit our every action
to serial impersonal events. Our genes
get transcribed, receptors get bound
to neurotransmitters, fibers in our
muscles contract, and the latest random
shooter pulls his or her gun’s trigger.
But Congress will not outlaw assault rifles,
because campaign contributions are the law,
no matter how it reads in the dusty books.
But there’s hope, as the late poet Paul Grant
wrote: “amo, amas, amat. Close your eyes
and a million years will pass fleetingly
in whom nothing dies.”
Poetry: Transition
Transition
The sand is sifting, time’s moving on,
A tear drops from the Dolphin’s eye,
A flower wilts, a tall tree tumbles,
The weakened Eagle can no longer fly.
Forlorn Elk keep sniffing the earth,
But no green pasture are they able to find,
A flock of Turkeys wander the fields,
But foul fumes and pollutants make them dizzy and blind.
Man pushes buttons to know what to do,
Instructions come forth in their mechanical way,
The voice speaks up clearly and he follows suit,
A cog in the wheel, controlled day after day.
But is this the way it was meant to be,
Sacrificing our souls due to weakness and greed,
Losing our essence, giving up on ourselves,
Become a new form of man, spawned by electronic seed.