Schedule

I used to be at work from 8 to 6.
I did a lot each weekday that transpired.
And many said I loved my work/life mix
so much, I’d never call myself retired.
But they misunderstood how task addicts
arrange our days – they didn’t have a clue.
I’m home but at it hard – my labor fix
survives, but now it spans from 6 to 2.

Posted in Aging, Personality, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Walllove

Infatuated with a wall,
my admiration grew to love.
I bought the right to see it all
my days, and though I look above
at ceiling lines that I adore,
and out through glass at quiet green,
and underfoot at oaken floor,
this wall is still my favorite scene.

Posted in Home, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Optatives

Oh let me learn from her how not to act,
and even as my finger joints get gnarly,
let me cultivate the skill of tact,
and never let my visage be so snarly.
As far back as my memory extends
her choices have repulsed me, and compelled
me taking other paths to other ends,
and filled me with disdain while grieving welled.
Much older than I ever dreamed we’d be,
I can’t effect a change in her, but me
I still can nurture. I will yet improve.
Oh let me deviate, while I can move.

Posted in Aging, Family, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Support

My new best friend’s a pillow that I bought
a bit after a visit, where I tried
a version that my yogi daughter sought
as gift a year ago. The buckwheat hulls
conform to where my muscles have been fraught
(unnoticed till I felt their fine support).
It brings a surface to my ache. I ought
to know the additives I need to have applied,
but I did not suspect what I’m now taught.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Health, Home, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

The Bad Trip

I took a trip and landed on the ground.
My left knee and my elbow felt the pain.
I must have moved too fast – that’s how I found
myself on old concrete. I saw the stain
of blood on jacket sleeve, and knew the sting
of laceration. Still, I rode the train
and powered on. I’d tend to everything
in time – I had a journey to maintain.

Within an hour I had cleaned the wound,
applied a bandage, washed the jacket sleeve.
It wasn’t till the evening I near-swooned
with left wrist pain too potent to believe.
In half a day my wrist no longer screamed –
I guess that whack was sharper than it seemed…

Posted in Aging, Health, Poetry, Transit | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Laissez-(Un)faire

Laissez-faire describes my oldest friend.
She even brags about how lax she is –
not checking messages companions send;
forgetting set appointments, dropping in
(she knows they know she’s got the cash to spend);
misplacing but not learning from a loss.
She’s now annoyed a youngster won’t amend
that laid-back, so-what attitude of his…
Her blare’s too loud for her to comprehend.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Cognition, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Noticing

The first job for intelligence, I thought,
is finding happiness. That’s what I want
from genius (and it’s also how I sought).
If not, you’re just an idiot savant.
Likewise, I’ve long expected artful minds
to notice what exists with every sense –
to be attentive to specific kinds
denotes creative bent with diligence.

But I was incorrect. Although it’s strange
encountering stupidity in smart,
and seeing careless permeating skill,
awake and reasoning don’t interchange,
full consciousness is not a form of art,
and mindful’s a deliberate state of will.

Posted in Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Density

Until a day ago, my view was brick
outside my office shed. For 16 years
I looked at blocks and mortar inches thick
when typing at my keyboard. What appears
today is temporary, planks of wood,
for some landowner in the neighborhood
is tearing down to then build house and wall.
He says he won’t disturb my peace at all.

It’s now the season of the A.D.U.
At least two neighbors paid and have permits.
My boundaries are not invaded, true,
but I’ll be longing soon for noise respites.
It’s good that I approve of density
in housing, for that’s how it soon will be.

Posted in Home, Neighborhood, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Wordles

Designed to pick out patterns as I am,
and liking solitary anagram,
I’ve noticed some relationships in word,
which carried to deliberate are absurd –
like backward LIVE is EVIL and (what’s worse)
a GOD transmutes to DOG in its reverse.
That scrambled HEART is EARTH has no debater,
but now I note those letters forming HATER.

Posted in Language, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

If I Were a Virus

If I were a virus, I’d try to infect
as many hosts as can be found.
I’d cause victims sneezing and thereby expect
dispersal of particles. Bound
for another by blood, shit or snot,
I’d aim to diffuse with a strew.
Pretending I’m viral while knowing I’m not,
I get how to not infect you.

Posted in Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment