Roses Are…

An American Sentence

Take it all my love, I’ve nothing else but this meager presence, all yours.


Because I falter on holidays, I reach beyond myself and share with you this wonderful setting of Shakespeare, Sonnet 18, sung by Ed Sanders. Enjoy ❤️ :

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18

Mum

ma ma–

I envy those that had a mum,

it rhymes with um,

a perfect sounding

to proceed every child’s request.

So mom, mum, ma ma–

Your provision is life itself,

and yes, that we are here,

that we suck oxygen

from this thin air every second,

the sky truly

your nourishing breast.

I guess I see how

that must make us all,

some seven or so billion of us,

sons and daughters

of God, I prefer Goddess

(the brutality

of masculinity in this world

too much a travesty).

Would you turn toward us

your grace filled eyes

and drop a tear over this

world, so traumatized,

afraid and weakened.

Your children are in need

of a healing intervention.

Please mum, please.

Longing for the Wrack Line

When I get back

I’ll peel off to the left

leaving the congregation

of sun worshipers

gathered at the foot of the stairs

to their plastic coolers

and tanning lotions,

each sand sinking step,

a push further into a precious

solitude dotted with terns

and sandpipers.

The rhythmic drone

of pounding surf will fill

a shrinking headspace

as the burning soles

of both feet seek

the cool wet sands

where each wave tumbles,

tossing seaweed, stone, shell,

then releases, then returns,

a perpetual succession,

the elemental communion

beyond the wrack line.


(In response to The Amplification Effect, no. 7)