Coloratura

I saw this evening's moon, waxing,
and the moon and the mist
drew the color from the street.
Gray houses sat on gray lawns with gray trees
and silver sidewalks.

The blind girl down the street
came walking in her gray dress
with her gray dog on a leash.
As she walked, she sang a song
that brought all the color back to the street.

States Wrongs

I have come to believe that the concept of States' Rights is one which must be put to rest, and the rights of the states subsumed to the rights of the Federation. If not, we will inevitably and unalterably be led to a Balkanization of the United States, which will result in our inability to move forward or perform any action other than to stand in place and tear at each other.

While States' Rights have validity as a Constitutional construct, in fact we must acknowledge that the increased mobility of our citizens demands equity of treatment across the nation's internal borders. Unless we allow the federal government to take precedence in all matters concerning providing for the common defense, promoting the general welfare and securing the blessings of liberty, we will have only an imperfect union, as her citizens are repeatedly caught in a web of conflicting laws.

To speak plainly: the individual states must not be allowed the authority to abridge human rights, including those protected rights of race, color, creed, national origin, sexual orientation, and religious conviction. They must not be permitted to deny the citizens of one state the health care available to the citizens of another state. They must not be permitted to constrain a citizenry from obtaining decent education for its young people by refusing to fund it. The health and well being of our citizens affects everyone of us and is not a trivial matter to be used as a poker chip in political bargaining.

I believe it is the purpose of government to protect and nurture the neediest of her citizens as tenderly as a parent does a child. Just as a loving parent responds most warmly to the neediest child, so must the government work to protect and heal those citizens who are in want, poor health or any sort of trouble. We can no longer tolerate a federal government that ignores the needs of the people, and we can no longer leave these urgent needs to unwilling, unable or inadequate state governments.

New poem

This is so far untitled; I just can't think of a fitting one. But my priest's sermon inspired me today. This is to whoever you think it is; but I wrote it for one who has carried my heart very tenderly for 40 years.

I was walking out of
the valley of the shadow of death;
I was walking out of
the thick mud and dark cloud of the slough of despond;
and it was hard.
But dimly ahead,
I saw him waiting
with his hand on the gate latch,
ready to welcome me back
to the bright path.

Hellooooooooo Congress!

Here are the things important to me:

1. Enough to eat for all Americans

2. Productive work for any American who wants a job

3. Minimum wages that allow 1 person to support a family of four

4. Universal single-payer health care

5. A return of the dream that allows a family to imagine owning a home, sending the kids to college.

6. Universal internet access

Here are the things I despise:

1. Subsidies for tobacco, corn, oil, banking

2. Corporations being regarded as people

3. Legalized tax evasion by corporations and rich individuals

4. Congress playing politics while the country bleeds

5. Foreign wars that consume and destroy our children and our wealth

6. Becoming a country of servers instead of movers and shakers, makers and doers

These are the things I can do without:

1. 24-hour news coverage

2. Political posturing on both sides

3. Being lied to by my government

4. Women in politics being represented by idiots

5. More cheap crap from China

6. Divisiveness.

Do you have anything to add? Feel free.

Flying the Fight

I wrote this one-pager many years ago.

Flying the fight

Carole stood at the top of the staircase, surveying her lost dominion. She had ruled as mistress of this house for nearly 20 years, and now her husband was suing for divorce, and it would become the home of his new bimbo.

Since Carson was a trial lawyer, she knew he would win. He always won. She hadn’t won a quarrel in two decades, and he could utterly devastate her with just a few well-chosen words.

But he wasn’t unkind, and he had many wonderful qualities. He was very orderly, from his well-organized walk-in closet upstairs to his immaculate workshop beside the garage. In his closet his shirts and ties were organized by color, his shoes from formal to casual. In his workshop, the hammer, the saw, the screwdrivers each had its outlined place, and was always returned there, cleaned and oiled as needed.

And he was caring. During his mother’s final illness he was relentlessly cheerful and helpful toward her, and insisted Carole behave the same. He rejected any idea of a nursing home, but did have a live-in caregiver near the end. She remembered the night he confided how wearing it was, “but you just don’t abandon the people in your life,” he explained.

But he was certainly abandoning her! She had finished college, but instead of pursuing her career in Political Science, she became Carson Gant’s wife. And she had done it very, very well. Now she was being laid off, she thought bitterly.

The 20-foot high living room ceiling created a showcase for fine fabrics and furnishings, and artwork collected from all over the world. The curving double staircase embraced a spacious entry hall tiled with marble parquet. The landing, with its curved carved wooden railing, was a dramatic stage for surveying arriving guests.

Carole reviewed her options carefully. She would die before she’d leave this house! Taking a breath, she measured the rail with her eye; the carefully-cut banister would point investigators to someone familiar with tools. If she lived, Carson would care for her, she knew - at least until she healed. If she died, well, her life was already over, wasn’t it?

Carole pushed, felt the railing give, smiled and sailed away.

Doggerel

This was written for the dog we used to have; we are currently, alas, dogless. But we have dogs in our future, I'm sure of it.

Our dog is of the canine ilk,

one end is wag, the other silk

He sniffs and wags where ever he goes

and sleeps on top of our clean clothes

He snarls and barks at falling leaves

and cheerfully admits the thieves

Our dog is of the canine breed

one end is gas, the other greed

he eats our scraps without complaint

and strews our yard with mounds of taint

he rolls in reeking, rotted clams

then greets our guests with body slams

he swallows up great bowls of chow

and spews them up indoors or out

Our dog is of the canine kind

one end is kiss, the other hind

he waits for our return all day

and's never fussy, only gay

we leave him all alone for hours

when we return he never glowers

he never treats us with disdain,

he shows he's glad we're back again.

Loyal, honest, caring friend --

Canine trumps the human trend.

Shrove Tuesday

How sensible to have, at this season, a mandated period of fasting. Without it, we might be tempted to take and drink the milk meant for the youngling; to take and eat the flesh of the veal, the fat calf. Better to require self-denial for the health of the whole herd, leaving a little now for later's plenty.

Postmodern Kitty

The Postmodern Kitty has graduated magna cum laude

With a degree in Ennui, a minor in

Disdain of Western Civilization.

She is unsurprised

When chaos descends unexpectedly

Into her pedestrian days,

Since she is so often

The agent of it.

She spends hours at a time

Contemplating creating the definitive art installation

That will demonstrate the essential

Uselessness of action.

Her contemplation

- to the uninitiated –

Is indistinguishable from napping.

Her art installations

Are indistinguishable from – well.

Everyone’s a critic.

Besides (the Postmodern Kitty thinks)

All Art now is just

Fashion

All Literature merely

Fashion

All Music merely

Fashion Fashion Fashion. Why go on?

Why create?

The Postmodern Kitty takes

Another hit of catnip,

Knocks over a vase

And contemplates what form would best be suited to

Revolution

In this dozing world.

Wish

My wishes for you are simple:

That you never felt my touch as anything but tender

That you never heard my voice as other than encouraging,

That you never saw me look at you with anything but love,

That my fear for your safety was a scent you never caught.

But maybe that is wrong, and nature-counter.

It would make a nest too soft and safe for leaving

And as my mother said, “all birds must fly.”

So my wishes for you are simple:

Touch the rough surface of the world, hear its noise

Take in all its scents, sweet and foul,

And know the metal taste of fear on your tongue,

And fly anyway.