Poems of Neil Michelsen Volume One

f Poems of Neil Michelsen

Volume 1

f

f Dedication To my family

2015

Neil Michelsen

1960

2013

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f Preface I began writing at home in Brooklyn in 1960 when I just turned 17.

That was the year my mother died at age 44 with my first poem being about her death. I continued writing through and including my years in the navy and after my discharge.

Then there was an approximate 25 year gap in my writing between the early 1970s and late 1990s when I was focused on my career and bachelor years living in New York City and Rio de Janeiro, travelling, getting married and starting a family and then working 7 ½ years renovating our 1894 home in Connecticut.

I started out writing traditional style poetry but then gravitated to prose. Many of my poems may be thought of as poetic chronicles or essays as they record my observations, feelings and experiences.

Some poems represent emotional lows that were written for emotional release and may even take the form of private confessions. Many are heavy, personal and serious which reflect the somewhat introspective side of my nature and personality. A number reflect some of the events of my younger, delinquent and wilder days before I settled down.

I thought about excluding certain poems that were not well written, were too personal or revealing or that talked about my youthful indiscretions but decided to include them for completeness which I hope any readers will take into account.

Although not completely satisfied with the quality of many of the poems I had to make the decision to stop making revisions and edits as a matter of practicality.

Between 1960 and 2014 I’ve written approximately 1,500 poems which have been compiled into 14 volumes: 8 volumes of general poems and 6 volumes of poems that relate to my family. Volume 8 is supplemented with poems that relate to the 911 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City on 9-11-2001. A 15th volume contains a master index of all the poems and a 16th comprises an anthology of selected poems.

The poems in this volume go up through 2014. Those written after 2014 are included in subsequent volumes. The poems are presented roughly in the order that were most favored for their poetic style, subject matter or personal meaning to me.

In the back of this volume is information about some of the subjects of my poems for background purposes and to help put the poems into better context.

I apologize if any offense is taken with anything I’ve written as that was not my intent. Also, since these poems were not professionally edited, I apologize for any deficiencies in poetic form and for any grammatical, typographical or spelling errors.

It is my hope that these poems, along with my other personal works (i.e. my journals, books and other writings; music compositions; family movies and photo albums; paintings; and various collections and memorabilia) will serve as my legacy and mark in life as well as a personal inheritance to my family.

f Table of Contents No Title and Dedication Preface 1. Will The Stars All Fall Down On Me? 2. A Chair Still Empty 3. I Gave Away My Camelot 4. Tonight I’ll Have To Tell Him 5. Welcome Home 6. A Moon At 3 am 7. Taking Turns 8. An Intersection Halfway Around The World 9. Someday He’d Show Them All 10. All These Things I Dreamed 11. Thank God For The Red Cape 12. A Little Star At Night 13. They Still Stare 14. To A Dead Warrior 15. That Last Good-Bye Look And Touch 16. To A Winter Weed 17. Afraid Of The Dark 18. It’s Better Just To Be Invisible 19. Doing What Children Do 20. And What Did He Know About Princesses?

21. Hearing Silent Things 22. As Beautiful As Your Eyes Held The Moon (To Bich-Thuy) 23. A Seducing Dusk 24. Looking Up − 25. Why Did My Mother Have To Die On Me? 26. I Was Never Of This World 27. Things He Thought Were Dead 28. How Many Summers Do I Have Left?

29. Going Out The Same Way I Came In 30. On Night And The Whispered Words Of Love (To Helen) 31. A Heavy Winter Sea (To Helen)

Pg 1 3 5 9 12 15 17 23 25 27 29 31 33 35 37 39 41 44 47 49 51 53 54 56 58 59 60 62 64 66 73

32. I Remember All These Things And More (On Bich-Thuy) 33. Your Hand Now Holding Mine 34. Oh Mother Dear, Why Did You Leave Us? 35. Marooned At The Top 36. Have I Come Home Too Late?

37. Friends And Enemies 38. The Artist Is A Child 39. The Empty Workshop 40. The Loss (To Sharon) 41. Fact And Emotion (To Bich-Thuy) 42. All These Things I Tell Myself (Remembering Bich-Thuy) 43. The Multiplication of Life And Death 44. Each Progression Has A Cost (To Sharon) 45. My Tempest 46. Horrid Dreams 47. In A Park, Watching And Listening 48. Expecting Winter 49. The Barren Trees Obey 50. A Cold Wet Sunday Morn 51. A Lost Love 52. Age Versus Innocence 53. Nothing Else In Store (On Sharon?)

54. To Repay What Was Loaned 55. Are We Better Or Worse Off? 56. The End Of Flesh 57. On Solitude 58. To A Lovely Day 59. Ode To An Orange Vesper View 60. A February Moon 61. The Noble Efforts Of The Moon 62. A Silent Reprimand (To Jane) 63. Competing Forces 64. At Sea 65. Overlooking Honolulu From Tripler (To Bich-Thuy) 66. At Sea Today – Tonight 67. I Cannot Sleep Because Of Her (To Bich-Thuy) 68. Nearing To The End Of Night 69. Never To See Her Again? (To Bich-Thuy) 70. A Cold Rainy Windy Night 71. My Gift To You Tonight (On Bich-Thuy In Hawaii)

75 77 79 83 86 88 89 92 95 97 101 104 107 110 112 113 114 116 118 121 123 125 128 131 133 135 136 138 141 143 145 147 149 150 152 154 157 159 162 164

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Headlights On The Snow Thanks But I Can See My Own Way Out They Shall Become Our Masters We Must Kill To Live!

It Was Then That I Knew Nature Only Needs You For A Little While Or Better Yet...

A Blank Page And The Open Sea Prisoners Of The Soil And Beggars For The Sun Trees Starch Up Your Tents It’s Not Easy But I’m Trying The Dump Ready Or Not Leaky Bottom That Slight Hesitation That Skinny Wall-Flower Tree A Conversation At A Gravesite Life And Death − Please Stop Your Fighting The Memory Of A Cold Winter’s Night Shrinking Circles Not So Distant Lay A Fear Charity Information About Certain Subjects *****

168 170 174 176 180 181 183 187 189 191 194 198 201 206 208 213 220 223 228 230 233 239 242

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Poems of Neil Michelsen

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y Will The Stars All Fall Down On Me? 12-14-2010 Losing distant but precious things. _____ 1.

Will all the stars one night Be shaken from the sky And all fall down on me?

2.

Will these heavenly jewels That I loved so much Be stolen away from me?

3.

Will I come home some night And find that all the stars Have left the sky?

4.

As cold and distant as they were They were always there for me Whenever I needed them.

1

5.

Should I prepare myself for the dreaded night When I might find the sky All dark and empty?

6.

Will I some night find that all the sparkling stars That used to keep my night alive Have died on me?

7.

Will I one day lose my starry friends Just like all the other things I couldn’t keep?

8.

Will the stars one night All fall down on me? *****

2

y A Chair Still Empty 3-26-2003 A desperate hope. _____ 1.

He looked across the dinner table And counted four.

So he counted again just to be sure But still there were only four.

2.

After so many counts before You’d think he’d know by now That there would always be Only four.

3.

At every sitting since she died He would count Hoping for that one time When perhaps There would be five.

3

4.

Not this time though As the chair directly to his right − The one that used to be his wife’s − Was still empty and staring back at him Telling him again Just like all the other times before That she was gone.

5.

Each time he looked into that empty chair He filled it with her image Just as he had all the other times before For that empty chair Was all that he had left of her.

6.

If he concentrated long and hard enough One day he might find her there.

This was his desperate hope and dream.

But after all of his many counts before You’d think he’d know by now.

7.

Each day he keeps on counting − Counting four today But hoping there’d be five tomorrow.

Missing one today But maybe not tomorrow.

Off by one today But maybe not tomorrow. *****

4

y I Gave Away My Camelot 9-1-2005 The unintended consequences of a good deed.

(Inspired by a true story.) _____ 1.

In Cambodia I saved a group of children Who’d been victims of the sex trade.

With my help Their captors were caught and sentenced And the children Were all placed in loving homes.

2.

And when I see them now With their newly-adopted Moms and Dads − Nearly normal once again And the way things ought to be − I cry with deep relief and joy for them And feel so proud of what I did.

5

3.

But now I have these nightmares That I never had before And new heartaches too For in saving them I lost my own peace of mind − The peace of mind I’d always taken for granted And never thought about before For I discovered a depth of horror in the world That I hadn’t known before And was sheltered from.

But in saving them I’ve been forced to think about All the other children Who I didn’t help And “willingly” left behind.

4.

Now I suffer with the knowledge Of just how much Evil there is in this world And what little one can do about it.

I also suffer knowing That whatever good I did Had little effect on anything In the scale of things Which thought alone Has stripped me of the pride and satisfaction That I initially had In doing what I did.

6

5.

I would have been better off Just leaving things alone For now I’ve taken on The heavy weight of guilt and disappointment On account of all the other victims Who I hadn’t helped.

6.

I would have been better off Not doing anything For I’ve given away my innocence For very little gain.

I’ve given away my Camelot For a lonely place in Hell.

7.

By helping them I’ve hurt myself For I’ve seen some things I can’t forget.

I’ve lost my innocence and my peace of mind And in its stead I’ve taken on a host of worries and regrets − Too much for any one man to carry.

I would have been better off Just leaving things alone.

7

8.

I cleansed away a little spot of sin But soiled myself for life.

I turned over a rock And found a peep-hole into Hell.

I opened up Pandora’s Box And let all the Evils of the world escape.

I saw Methuselah And turned myself to stone.

I gave away my Camelot For a lonely place in Hell. *****

8

y

Tonight I’ll Have To Tell Him 5-10-2010 The pain of delivering and receiving bad news. _____ 1.

I was notified today That his only son and child Had been killed in the war In some remote village Somewhere half way around the world − And tonight, I’ll have to tell him that.

2.

His wife had passed away early in his life So he never had the family He’d been planning for And the only family that he had Was his only son.

But now, with his death He doesn’t even have that − And tonight, I’ll have to tell him so.

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3.

He mentioned to me just yesterday That the letter from his son Was unusually late.

“Snail mail”, he said, Trying to make light of it − Trying to hide What he was always worried sick about.

His son’s letters always came on time But yesterday When he opened the little green mailbox In the front of his house It was empty − And tonight, I’ll have to tell him why.

4.

When he got home from work I was already there waiting for him.

But as I began to speak He held up his hand and politely said, “Just a minute, please, I want to check the mail.”

I watched the disappointment in his face As he turned to me and said, “What’s wrong with the mail these days?”

In about a minute or so I’ll have tell him − That it’s not the mail.

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5.

Later that night At about 9 pm and already dark I walked over to his house again Just to check to see how he was doing − But this time, there was nothing I could tell him.

6.

I stood on the sidewalk Just outside of his house And saw him sitting in that tattered old chair of his Under a dim and solitary lamp light.

And as I watched him I felt the same excruciating pain That I felt earlier today When I put a knife in his heart − And told him about his only son. *****

11

y Welcome Home 6-1-2011 Returning from Asia and dealing with reorientation. _____ 1.

I’m home now Back from halfway around the world And trying to get reacquainted With my new surroundings.

It feels like home But it also feels…different.

2.

Although I feel I’m home I’m nervous and unsure And not completely comfortable yet.

3.

So as I lay here in my bed tonight Listening to the frogs Down along the river bank Croaking, “Welcome home”, to me, so convincingly I’m tempted to trust them And to accept their greetings at face value But yet I remain wary of their truthfulness.

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4.

They seem like the same tenants That I had when I left But I can’t be sure, exactly.

I want to believe that I’m really home But there’s still something − Something unsettling And uneasy inside of me.

5.

All night long they croak, “Welcome home. Welcome home.”

And all night long I wonder If their repeated chants are genuine Or just a clever ruse to wear me down.

6.

So I listen intently Trying to detect some mistake That would give their game away.

But there are none − Not so far anyway.

7.

My body and mind have been indoctrinated To another place Halfway around the world And so I’m hesitant to be so easily swayed By all their chants of “Welcome home” On this My first night back.

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8.

In time I’ll probably adjust And come around to believe That I really am home.

But for now I must remain cautious And not allow myself To become too gullible Too soon. *****

14

y A Moon At 3 am 2-15-2011 Thoughts evoked by a setting moon. _____ 1.

I woke up at 3 am And saw a big bright moon outside my window Slowly rolling inch by inch Without a breath of sound Down the branch of a distant tree.

2.

And when it reached the end of the branch It fell off And onto an irregular horizon of trees and houses.

And then Like a sunset It slowly sank until it disappeared Leaving only the faded remnants Of its hallowed glow.

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3.

And when the Night came It cradled this aged and failing moon in its arms And, with the premeditation and compassion Of one who caringly puts down a dying animal, It smothered out Whatever light and life that it had left.

Then gently It pulled the blanket of Darkness over its head Respectfully marking its silent death.

4.

I’m not sure what awakened me Or why I was chosen To witness the passing of this moon.

Perhaps I sensed something The way an animal senses things.

5.

With its lovely image still in my mind And feeling privileged To have witnessed this Night’s miracle I gradually closed my eyes and fell asleep Believing that the world Was not as dreadful as I had thought But rather maybe warm and beautiful And full of promise All from the glory of that moon At 3 am. *****

16

y Taking Turns (The Seasons) (Manila) 5-7-2011 The war-like campaigns of the seasons. _____ 1.

Oh Winter Winds Whip hard every wizened weed, bush and tree And make them all shiver in the Cold.

2.

And Winter Storms Bury everything you can Up to their necks in Snow And drape all the evergreens in Ice Until they fully bend and almost break.

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3.

Oh Winter I know that you take pride in thinking That you’ve defeated All the Life that lived last Summer But you’re mistaken For those you think you’ve killed and buried Under your frozen Snows Are not dead But rather only dazed and playing possum − Only biding their time and cleverly duping you Into exhausting yourself and over-inflating your confidence Just to make you believe that you have won.

4.

Oh Winter Though your Snows have smothered all your Summer rivals They are still alive and only hunkered down Preparing themselves for the coming battle − Just waiting for that bugle call to begin their charge The very moment your Snows begin to melt.

5.

Oh Winter With the gentle urging Of the new-born vernal Sun Beware, for the underground Frost Is beginning to soften And the sleepy roots are getting ready To waken and advance.

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6.

Oh Winter Be careful not to boast too much now − Now that you’re in charge − So you won’t have to eat your words Or hear your sharp-toothed roars Turn into whimpers When one day your Snows will melt And the little flowers of Spring Will bravely shoulder themselves Up through the ground like Phoenixes.

And despite their shivering In the cold morning chill They’ll not retreat.

7.

And Winter As your white sheets of snow Begin to shrink Against the advancing greens and browns of Spring And the stone-cold stillness of the Ice Begins to thin and crack and join in the revolt Signaling a turning point in the war Don’t fight it anymore But rather surrender your sword With the grace and honor Of a defeated and noble warrior.

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8.

And victorious Spring Don’t scoff at Winter as it begins to falter Against your advancing army of Life.

And don’t gloat either Or be tempted by revenge.

But rather, be respectful And accept with honor The throne that it will abdicate to you Remembering that Winter was once your King And you were once its subject.

9.

The Sky that was a freezing Winter blue Is now a warm Summer blue.

And the dead and frozen woods Are now filled with life Scurrying about with pent-up energy Freed at last from their Winter celibacy.

But while Spring and Summer Enjoy their new-found freedom Someone should remind them Of what they should already know instinctively That their clocks are running now And their time is short And that Fall and Winter Are on their way again.

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10.

So Spring and Summer Prepare yourselves both mentally and physically For your own impending abdications When you yourselves Will be forced to descend your thrones In humble favor Of Fall and Winter.

11.

So Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall Please enjoy your respective reigns Without being boastful Or disrespectful to each other.

And recognize that you’re all part Of a rotating, four-party, monarchial system And should always be prepared For your inevitable transitions But taking comfort in the fact That all in good time Your turn will come again. *****

21

y An Intersection Halfway Around The World (Manila) 5-8-2011 And intersection by chance or by destiny? _____ 1.

For some reason my mind was racing And I couldn’t get to sleep So I got up And looked out of my 15-story hotel window.

I felt as though I was on the edge of a towering cliff Looking down into a deep valley.

2.

It was then that I noticed One lone truck on the street below In the misty morning dark Just before dawn In downtown Manila.

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3.

One lone truck On the street below − That’s all the life I saw that pre-dawn night − One lone trucker Way down there On his lonely journey to somewhere And me, unable to sleep, Looking out of my window at him From way up here.

4.

All during our lives We’d never met And for the rest of our lives We’ll never meet again.

But on this single morning – On this dark and drizzling morning in downtown Manila − We found our lives had intercepted For this one and only time.

5.

Our intersection started many years ago As two infinitesimal spots On opposite sides of the horizon That had now converged At this one pin-point in time and space − At this little unplanned Yet maybe predestined rendezvous.

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6.

In a second or two When the light turns green The trucker and I will begin to diverge Where once again we’ll become Infinitesimal spots on opposite horizons Then fall over our respective edges and disappear With no one ever knowing − Expect for me − That we’d ever met.

7.

Tonight, just before dawn It was just me looking out of my hotel window From way up here On that one lone trucker on the street Way down below there Waiting for the light With neither one of us knowing Where the other came from Or was going to But only That we each had been on a life-long path That would ultimately have us meet Either by destiny or happenstance At this tiny dark and drizzly pre-dawn spot In time and space Halfway around the world In downtown Manila. *****

24

y

Someday He’d Show Them All 9-15-2011 The big hope of an unrecognized man. _____ 1.

All the belittlements he suffered Were catalogued and filed away In his over-sensitive heart.

Every misinterpretation of his words and actions Was duly noted in his tortured head.

Every vote of no confidence Was registered and tallied inside of him All in preparation for His day of vindication When all the slights, sins, and honest errors Made in his disfavor Would one day be rectified.

2.

He had to make himself believe That there’d come a day When they would finally see The man he really was − The man that no one thought he was − The man of hidden talents and undiscovered worth − For if he didn’t make himself believe it He’d never survive the weight Of his own self-doubt and insignificance.

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3.

Someday he’d show them all.

Someday he’d make them eat their words.

Someday he’d burn a brand new image of himself In their skeptical and undiscerning minds.

4.

And if he didn’t become that person in life He’d become so in his death.

Someday he’d show them all Just who he really was − One way or the other.

5.

That’s what keeps him going.

That’s what helps him face his day.

That’s the hope he’s hoping for When he goes to bed And the dream he dreams of in his sleep − That someday he’d show them all When the little man becomes the giant And everyone will have to stand In the specter of his shadow. ~ Someday he’d show them all. *****

26

y All These Things I Dreamed 4-26-2001 Imagining a love that never was. _____ 1.

We loved together For hours into the night.

We dreamed our dreams In each other’s arms.

And when the morning came We woke up face to face.

2.

I took you to romantic dinners And by candle light With tears in my eyes I toasted to our love.

3.

I cried when you gave birth.

And as our children grew We held each other’s hand For we were both so proud of them And us.

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4.

And as we aged our love grew deeper And in many new dimensions.

5.

I was amazed how I could still find Such pleasure in your touch − Your hair, your skin Your breath, your scent And the magic of our love After all these years.

6.

All these things I dreamed − As if they were real. *****

28

y Thank God For The Red Cape 9-14-2010 Keeping the heavier thoughts distracted. _____ 1.

My little daily worries Keep me busy and distracted By running unintended But welcomed interference Against the larger worries and regrets Of my heavy past That would otherwise gang up on me.

2.

If my mind were free and unoccupied And there were no interferences It would accumulate All the haunting disappointments in my life And crush me under their weight.

3.

If I didn’t have my daily worries As my little fingers in the dike It would rupture from all the cracks That never got repaired And swiftly wash me away.

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4.

If I didn’t have my daily worries To defend myself against the memories Of all my many bad decisions and results I’d easily be felled Right where I stood.

5.

If I didn’t have my daily worries To fend off the prowling hounds Of all my melancholy yesterdays They’d easily tear me limb from limb.

6.

If I didn’t have my daily worries To step in between the sour memories Of my past And the fears and apprehensions Of what might lie ahead They’d all conspire And douse my will to face tomorrow.

7.

If I didn’t have that bright red cape Of all my little daily worries To confuse and distract the raging bull Inside of me I’d be at the mercy of the beast. *****

30

y A Little Star At Night 8-4-1963 Providing inspirational comfort to us as best she can.

(Written in a New York City bar after attending a free chamber music concert in Washington Square Park.) _____ 1.

The dark and quiet night holds firm A faint and glimmering star in distant set.

Way up there it holds a vantage point To help it understand and best discern Our struggling world and extend to us Both its sympathy and regrets.

2.

Oh how often that little star Has received our upturned faces Begging for help of any kind However small or brief.

And how often she has given us comfort With her pin-point beacon of light That she always keeps lit for us.

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3.

Unfortunately though Nature has set her limits Which only allows her To be our faithful little muse To whom we can lift our eyes and hopes And provide us at least Some heavenly relief From all our earthly abuse.

4.

So as I gaze upon this little star In a sea of a trillion miles Of mute-black airless space tonight I thank her for her kind and loyal support In just being there for us On so many of our lonely, lonely nights. *****

32

y They Still Stare 10-18-1962 Self-conscious imagination or reality? _____ 1.

Their eyes were all over me Watching and staring And cutting me to pieces Like razor blades.

2.

I prayed that I’d be strong enough some day To face this world But the more I tried the more I felt A disappointing mix of anger and despair.

3.

Are their stares only curious and innocent glances?

Or are they rather something more sinister Like the thrusts of well-aim lances That are meant to kill?

33

4.

I’m always searching for the reason As to why they stare But self-consciousness alone May be the only reason they do And that it’s all in my head − But nevertheless They still stare. *****

34

y To A Dead Warrior 1-14-1963 The soul trapped after death. _____ 1.

I hear the crashing of the waves Upon this damp and desolate beach I’m on.

I see seagulls soaring against the sun-scorched sky And hear the rustle of the swaying reeds.

I feel every gust and breeze That comes to teach the sand obedience And to preach its gospel to the dunes.

And as a fallen soldier It’s here upon this barren beach I’ll have to stay Until I fully rot away.

2.

My soul is locked up now In my decaying corpse Detained within its prison shell Longing to be free − Free to fly to either Heaven or to Hell Whichever Fate may choose.

Oh these bustling waves − Will their thunder ever quell?

No, not until my body’s prison, I will lose.

So here my soul and I will have to stay Until I fully rot away.

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3.

Face down in stark disgrace Is how I’ll have to wait Until each breath of wind has called to duty Enough sand to eventually grind away my flesh And bleach my bones.

Until each restless rise and fall of the tide Finds and cleanses All the chasms of my skeleton And leaves it polished and abandoned It’s waiting, waiting here I’ll have to stay Until I fully rot away.

4.

Oh Nature Please be quick To swallow up my body where it lay For until you do It’s here my soul and I are doomed to stay Until I fully rot away. *****

36

y That Last Good-Bye Look And Touch 6-19-2004 All day she seemed reserved to him until they said good-bye. _____ 1.

She was kind of cool to him And he could feel it all throughout the day.

He had thought that when they met After so many intervening years And after all that they’d been through together That there would be: A little more warmth, More longing, More emotion, More pining over the love they had But couldn’t keep.

2.

Throughout the day she made him feel A little sad and disappointed Just as she always had.

After all the love that they had shared He thought that there would be A little more hint of it − At least for today − But there wasn’t And his expectations were frustrated once again Just as they’d always been with her.

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3.

But, at the end of the day When they were saying their good-byes He saw it in her face and eyes, He felt it in her touch upon his cheek, And he heard it in her silence, “I love you still.”

(At least that’s what he thought he heard.)

4.

And when he asked his heart What it had heard It said the same thing, “I love you still.”

(At least that’s what he thought it said.) *****

38

y To A Winter Weed 1-7-1964 The fortitude of a small winter weed. _____ 1.

You are nothing but a weak and tiny winter weed − Nothing but a dried up, brown and hollow stalk − So how is it then That you can endure this ice-cold night?

How indeed?

2.

How is it that you can bear To have your hollow columned walls Fill up with freezing winds that ought To kill you with their icy gall?

3.

How can you stand The freezing cold night air?

How can you survive just as you are So naked and bare With only your thin layer of skin?

What special strength Has Fate provided you within?

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4.

And when you see a dim-lit star A million miles away from where you are You must feel the truest sense of distance and despair.

5.

Oh winter weed, how is it that you can bear Without complaint your freezing fate and lonely fare From where you are, way down there? *****

40

y Afraid Of The Dark (Preparing For Death) (Iloilo, Philippines) 5-3-2011 Trying to prepare for death. _____ 1.

I’m now Only hours away from Death And very afraid.

2.

Here I lay in my bed Looking all around the room Petrified that I’ll be leaving the world At any moment now.

3.

The minute my name is called Death, who’s been waiting outside my door Will burst into the room − The room and hiding place That I thought I could keep secret − And drag me out like a dirty old rag-doll That Life doesn’t need or want anymore.

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4.

I pull the sheets up over my head And make everything go dark To try and replicate as best I can The dark new world that’s coming In a desperate effort To prepare myself for Death − As if somehow that would help.

5.

Pulling the sheets up over my head Is my feeble and unsteady attempt To prepare myself So that it won’t be so frightening When the time actually comes For me to close my eyes And the Dark swallows me whole.

6.

It’s my desperate attempt To build my courage up − A dress rehearsal for the real thing − A practice run before the main event.

But despite all my preparations I’m still no braver Than a scared little boy afraid of the Dark And hiding under the covers.

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7.

How can I ever really prepare myself For something like this − This, the most ominous And frightening event in my life − The transition from Life to Death?

I can’t, but I also can’t Not help trying either.

8.

All of my attempts to prepare for Death Are shallow schemes And little more than shadow boxing − Little more than futile games With limited effect.

But I’ve got to keep on trying to prepare myself For the time they’ll put me in my grave – The grave that Death began to dig for me The minute I was born.

9.

I know I’m only playing mind games with myself By making up a pretend Dark But it’s only in the frantic hope That it’ll help me face my Death more bravely When it does come And they’ll actually pull that thin white sheet Over my head And everything goes Dark For real. *****

43

y

It’s Better Just To Be Invisible 8-28-2010 Not wanting to be obvious. _____ 1.

I’m never comfortable getting too involved Or becoming too obvious.

For me I’d rather go through life More as an observer than a participant − Keeping to myself and quietly unnoticed.

2.

I’m never comfortable in a crowd − Always feeling a little out of place.

Being in public puts demands on me Forcing clumsy interactions With disappointing results.

3.

I prefer To watch the world Than to have the world Watch me.

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4.

I’d rather decline An invitation to the party Than risk a poor appearance.

5.

For me, It’s better to vote in absentia Than ever in person.

6.

Although sometimes I think I’d like to be on the inside I know it’s best I stay on the outside.

You see, on the inside You can easily get cornered But on the outside You have many more avenues of escape.

7.

It’s better for me To remain anonymous Than to ever disclose my name.

8.

I always feel safer Under the cover of a forest Than I do In the open city.

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9.

It’s better for me To remain a shapeless and untouchable spirit Than be anything in the flesh.

10.

Let the world pass me by As if I weren’t there.

11.

I’d rather be a footnote Than the story.

12.

I prefer to keep a low profile So as to make the smallest target.

13.

I’d rather be a dream Than a reality.

14.

It’s better for me Just to be, invisible. *****

46

y Doing What Children Do (Manila) 5-7-2011 Finding poetic subject matter is an exploratory process. _____ 1.

My thoughts are running all over the place Like a gang of excited children Exploring every nook and cranny in the house And returning With all the little things they’ve found for me That would ultimately become a poem.

2.

When to let them run And when to hold them back Is a delicate thing to balance And a tough decision to make For there’s no definitive book On how to be a parent Or how to handle children.

While it’s good that they explore It’s a full time job Just keeping up with them.

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3.

Sometimes I scold them, “Don’t go here”, and “Don’t go there” − But they don’t listen and do whatever they want.

I smile because they’re only children And children will be children − Going where children go And doing what children do.

4.

As a parent, you just never know When you’ve let them go too far And they’ll get into places where they shouldn’t be − Places where they could hurt themselves – Or you − when they find things That are particularly sensitive and personal.

5.

Even when you’ve tried your best to hide things That you don’t want them to find Children have a way of finding them.

So I reconcile myself to take the good with the bad And work with whatever they bring back to me.

6.

And when they’ve finished all their explorations And proudly return with everything they’ve found I begin assembling them into the makings of a poem.

But even before I’m half-way finished They’re off again Looking for new things For the next poem I’ll write. ***** 48

y And What Did He Know About Princesses?

6-13-2004 He had no experience with a girl like her. _____ 1.

The first time that he saw her He fell into a love Like no other love he had ever known before.

Romance, mystery and magic, surrounded her.

It was a powerful and hypnotic love But a fragile and elusive one And one that both excited and frightened him.

2.

All he wanted was a simple and stable love But all she had Was a fairy-tale princess kind of love to give.

All he wanted was a simple reassuring love But with her, there was nothing reassuring As he was always on edge And walking on egg shells Worried over every word that he said and action he took − Worried over nuances that she created in her head − Worried over her princess rules and protocols That were impossible to figure out For what did he know about princesses?

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3.

He could see that with her He could never be himself For he had to be What she wanted him to be.

He had to be the prince And she the princess Who lived in the fairy-tale world That she imagined and always carried in her head.

4.

He was so afraid to lose her Yet so afraid to have her.

When he reached out She pulled back So how could he ever figure anything from that?

How could he ever satisfy a princess For what did he know about princesses?

5.

All he wanted was a girl to love And one who would simply love him back.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Nothing complicated − Just a simple girl that he could simply love.

All he wanted was a girl Who would just meet him half-way.

But no, she had to be a princess And what did he know about princesses? *****

50

y Hearing Silent Things 6-30-1969 Sensitivity and poetic imagination. _____ 1.

In the quiet stillness I can hear: The footsteps of the dead, The sounds of passing clouds, Hands waving, The breaths of dreams, And the birth of stars.

2.

In the quiet stillness I can hear: Lilies floating, Silent prayers, Still black water, Colors changing, Flower stems bending in the wind, And mile-long vaults of sunlight Landing on the forest floor.

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3.

In the quiet stillness I can hear: The moaning of a broken heart, Confessions in the wind, Life beginning and Death approaching, The song of Love, And the promises of Hope.

4.

In the quiet stillness I can hear everything. *****

52

y As Beautiful As Your Eyes Held The Moon (To Bich-Thuy) (Written In Approximate Sonnet Form) 8-25-1966 Thoughts at sea about the time Thuy and I visited a cabin in the mountains of Oahu, Hawaii, and how we used to wrestle in dry love on the cabin floor every time we found ourselves alone. _____ Here, a thousand miles away from land, sailing on a sulking sea My musings take me back: Back to where you sat upon the grass with me; To where we listened to the chirping fares Of all the colorful topical birds that filled the air; To where the heavy trees and bamboo stalks And the aimless plants and flowers grew everywhere; To where we had our gentle talks And where I saw how soft and quiet your eyes held the moon In their warm and lovely color brown; And to where I listened to your voice and its Siren tune; And where, at your feet, I took my heart and gently laid it down.

I sang a silent song of joy and sorrow mixed For I knew I’d never see the moon In any one else’s eyes as beautiful as it was in yours that night − As beautiful as in your eyes so warm and mellow brown. *****

53

y A Seducing Dusk 10-23-1965 Driving on a dull highway tranced me back to a sad part in my life. _____ 1.

The car’s monotonous forward movement And Dusk’s approaching face Began to gradually bring me to a former rack Of heavy forlorn moods that trace Themselves to past regrets and fears come back.

2.

Dusk exhaled a painful reminiscent breath Of woes that settled on the distant autumn hills And drenched them in a somber pale That seduced me into reliving some old and sorrowed ills And evoked in me a nauseous wail That sunk my spirit down enough To give me an unsettling sense of Death.

3.

Ill musings smothered my every joyful mood and vein With swift and deadly thoroughness.

And the hills I saw ahead of me With their grizzled, red-complexioned stains Tapped into my heart And drained it down with skilled success.

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4.

The Dusk was like some Siren Song that hypnotized my mind and drew me in To the sink-holes of my former woes.

It also, with sadistic greed, swelled my aching mind With both real and fabricated fears And buried memories of every kind − Some as old as time And some as young as embryos.

5.

The dreadful mask of Dusk Quickened my breath and raced my heart Raising old fears that I naively thought I’d never see Again. So well-accomplished were they in their blackish art That they sicked their dog Despair on me Who it seems will never lose my scent and leave me be. *****

55

y

Looking Up − 4-21-1968 Ruminations about my inner most emotions. _____ 1.

Looking up – I suddenly become aware That all my thoughts are collecting into incoherent murmurings That thicken in my ear. They are like water dreams Made up of rising waves Of heaving, shapeless and imposing things.

Some thoughts are as fresh as the dawn And age gracefully While others simply die as quickly as they are born.

And like pelting rain, my thoughts sometimes accumulate Into slow and narrow streams That then build into raging floods that overwhelm me With their frightening themes.

2.

The composure of my face opposes what I feel And my silent front deludes The conversations of my darker inner moods.

I troll for simple words that will best reveal The fire-thoughts of inner feuds that had begun Some long and lonely time ago But that still remain unsettled and undone.

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3.

Looking up – I stare in wonder as to how all the colors begin to die With the aging of the day, and how the light Slowly drains down from the sky And hardens into night.

With all the light dissolving before my eyes I become aware − As if for the first time in my life − Of the true, true depth of night.

4.

Looking up – I see each and every cloud brighten up As it passes by this night’s lovely moon And softly brushes up against its light.

And all the stars to me look like shiny silver pins Stuck into the black-velvet evening sky.

I also notice a street-light behind some trees Peeping in between its rustling leaves Making eerie silhouettes appear Like winking eyes that wake up so many of my latent fears.

5.

And then, come the prowling tremors of my sins From somewhere deep inside of me Where they’ve always been, and were skillfully hiding out of sight But always pushing to be free And always anxious for their attendant torments to begin Just as they always have, and will again tonight. *****

57

y Why Did My Mother Have To Die On Me? (A Young Boy’s Question) 8-14-2000 A fragment of a longer piece about a young boy losing his mother. _____ 1.

When lying down in his bed at night He’d have trouble sleeping And would often stare into the darkness of his room.

2.

He was all too young To be starring through the dark like that − Too young to be listening to a racing heart As loud as someone pounding on the wall.

3.

Sometimes he’d almost want to cry, “Why don’t I have a mother like all the others do?

Why don’t I have a mother to tuck me in at night And put me fast asleep?

Why did my mother have to die on me?”

4.

He always held those questions deep inside of him.

He also did the same with is tears − He always held them in − At least mostly always. *****

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y I Was Never Of This World 4-4-2004 My mind is always escaping to the heavens. _____ 1.

I was always looking up and out Into the heavens − Always traveling up and out At speeds and distances Far beyond my comprehension.

2.

I was always looking up and out Tracing star shapes in the sky With my mind a million miles away.

3.

Though confined here to my little room I was always looking out my window Making my escape To where the stars reside.

4.

I was never really of this world But rather always somewhere else − Somewhere out there among the stars. *****

59

y Things He Thought Were Dead 6-22-2004 Meeting her again awakened something in him. _____ 1.

She caught his notice once again And like a touch of moonlight on his face She awoke in him Some things he thought were dead.

2.

He must be very cautious though Of whatever feelings had suddenly come alive For they were all filled with hidden dangers.

3.

While those feelings were just remnant curiosities − Just sad symptoms of an unfinished and unresolved past That held nothing for the future − He had to be careful with them For if he handled them badly Or misinterpreted them They’d ruin all the progress that he’d made In getting over her.

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4.

He must be very cautious of all the things That were resurrected from the dead For he knows how frail and weak he is And how vulnerable When it comes to her And matters of the heart. *****

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y How Many Summers Do I Have Left?

5-11-2004 My mother died in her early 40s; my father in his early 70s; and my blood line uncles in their 60s and 70s. So if I were to live as long as their average ages, I could have maybe only 10 years or so left. _____ 1.

I’m 61 now And thinking about How many years I might have left in life.

On the short side I might have, what? – Maybe 10 years or so to go Which are just as many fingers As I have on my hands!

Ten fingers left in life!

How convenient for my count-down: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1-0.

2.

Only 10 remaining years!

Only 10 Springs and Summers And 10 Falls and Winters!

With every year that passes Another finger falls.

And with each fallen finger I’m that much closer to my end.

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3.

So what will I do with my remaining 10 − With these precious few and maybe only 10?

What will I do with them Compared to what I’ve done With all the other 61?

4.

When I was in my teens I made a promise to myself: To make a decent showing of my life And leave some kind of legacy for myself And for those I leave behind.

And now, with maybe only 10 years or so to go I get scared when I think about How much I still have yet to do.

5.

So Mr. Clock With maybe only 10 years or so left for me in life Can you slow things down a bit?

Can you keep my fingers up as long as possible? − At least long enough to give me a fighting chance To accomplish all the things I promised myself I’d do?

Can you do that for me, Mr. Clock? *****

63

y Going Out The Same Way I Came In 1-21-2011 A somewhat pessimistic view of life. _____ 1.

I came into this world with a great fear of it For I could see early on That I wouldn’t fit in so well And that Life for me wouldn’t be easy.

2.

I knew that life For whatever reason Would be a constant struggle And that all that I could hope for Was a truce or at best a draw.

I even had my doubts That life would be worth living at all.

3.

I knew that I’d be different from the others And have some trouble making friends − Especially with myself – And that more or less I’d be a kind of loner.

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4.

Over time I thought that things might get better − But they hadn’t And rather stayed pretty much the same.

So here I am In the last phase of my life Facing the same daily proofs Of my born-into and pre-ordained condition.

5.

Here I am Still trying to make the best of a losing hand.

Here I am Still sitting at the Ouija board watching the pointer Move under my hand all by itself.

And here I am After all these years Still trying to get a foothold On the slippery slopes of the same crater That I found myself in At the outset of my life.

6.

So here I am Looking at my life Both backwards and forwards And coming to the same sad conclusion That in my long contest with Life Nothing much has changed And it looks like I’ll be going out The same way I came in. ***** 65

y On Night And The Whispered Words Of Love (To Helen) 5-31-1964 A sprawling poem inspired by an affair with my next door neighbor who was 34 and I was 16. It was a dangerous affair as her husband was Sicilian and worked at a Mafia night club in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn. _____ 1.

How so much alike our minds both seem With feelings that are sensitive and bursting Yet hesitant to speak − Feelings that can’t be fully expressed in words For words are so feeble in their weight And hardly representative of our inner moods.

Oh, words − Those bungling and insufficient messengers of love − What injustice to a tender thought they do And how poorly they display Anything at all to do with passion − But they keep trying Only to succeed in making martyrs of themselves.

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2.

So now So close upon the dawn I sit with pen in hand Trying to organize my thoughts And put them into words.

But words are merely shells Surrounding inner truths and feelings And through them And through my own inadequate attempts I hope that you can break them open And see the source and heart of my deepest moods As well as Sorrow’s thorns that stick in me.

I also hope that you can see The all and everything − Good and bad − That there is in life And that both you the listener and the reader Can interpret these confessions of my heart. ~ If you cannot understand my message Then you have heard But you have not listened And you have looked But you have not seen.

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3.

A word is purity within the dark of night That wafts its whispered tone across the room And hovers in the silent blackness Until it slowly dissipates.

When sweet words are uttered Hot with breath and close upon a waiting ear They delve into the very reaches of a burdened soul And conspire to set it free As well as into the core emotions of a lonely heart Hoping to save its life.

Words of love When spoken within the quiet darkness of a room Are such cherished things Whereas words Spoken in the bright and noisy light of day Are swallowed up and lost.

4.

Never boast or speak too much.

Be modest and sparing in your words.

Wait and watch for the proper mood and time: A sparrow’s song at dawn − A lover’s word at night.

Does not the silence of the night Elicit from the chambers of a timid heart More than day could ever?

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5.

One has often said so much But said so little; And one has often said so little But said so much.

So often will a simple well-spoken loving word Unwrap a cry of love In eager need of birth. ~ Upon the calm and swarthy breast of night A well-thought phrase Spoken in soft dulcet tones Resounds and fills a waiting ear and heart Whose only dream it is Is to be approached and sweetly wooed.

6.

Each passing night is only darkness Alone and empty Just waiting for a lover’s whispered word To give it life.

The summer eve demands the moon be there And the darkness of the night Pines for the softness of a lover’s voice.

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7.

The moon illuminates the night Plaiting its silver strings of light. ~ Softly spoken words of love Are breathed across a lover’s tongue And interview the night.

Night and words Mark the memory of a lover’s visit.

We live to glean each night And every tender word within it.

Each night can never be seen again.

And each word not spoken Is lost forever. ~ Words are poor ambassadors For the heart And the ways of love.

8.

And now the dawn is almost here Breaking slowly through the darkness of this room But still my mind is cramped With so many confusing thoughts.

So let me hasten in what I have to say and do For soon As with the night These sweet and passing thoughts Will also wane.

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9.

How alike our minds both seem.

How alike we all must be In all our needs and wants.

A quiet city night Instills its magic and its mysteries Into a pensive waiting soul And seeps into the walls of a sullen heart Made porous by time and pain And shapes a lover’s open mood.

Too much giving makes for too much sorrow.

And the past can be the cause and reason For a present sorrow.

10.

The vacancy of night May conjure up a wealth of hurt But a cache of joy and sweetness It may also bring.

Within the murkiness of night You can hear the whispered words of love Almost everywhere − If you listen.

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11.

These are the remembered scenes and sounds That print their silent selves Upon exhausted minds And their burning night-born images Upon weary and searching souls: Those starving souls That yearn and yell for love; Those silent somber memories That live from mood to mood; Those disheartened and pining hearts That crave relief; Those contrite, empty inner cores That seek to fill themselves with something.

12.

Each night is dead and nothing more Until its silence is broken By the cherished tones Of the whispered words of lovers That mark a night forever. ~ We live and wait for every night And every word two lovers speak. ~ A night that passes can never be redone And unspoken words Are lost in shame forever. *****

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y A Heavy Winter Sea (To Helen) 12-12-1967 Trying to resume the affair with Helen after my release from the Navy − but things were different now. _____ 1.

The sky above me is a sharp and freezing blue.

But then it tapers down into a soft and sand-pink haze That floats just above the heavy winter sea.

2.

In the salt-chilled morning dampness The sand is driven by the wind Into an inch-high sandy surface-fog Of a billion grains of colliding sand Making the tinkling sounds That wind-chimes make.

3.

With every breath I take The insides of my nose and lungs freeze And the wind slaps my face and neck And chills me to the bone.

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4.

The waves keep falling like soldiers In their futile battles with the shore.

And as the sea retreats It retrieves most of all its fallen.

But those it can’t Are sadly left to sparkle in the burning sun And hiss defiantly As they’re sucked down Through the thirsty fields of sand.

5.

Walking here Along the dark gray borders Of this heavy winter sea I must contend with two competing heartbeats: One of love And the other Of something lost for me.

Things were not the same with us as once they were For love had died in her.

6.

And when we left the beach We had a quiet cup of coffee somewhere.

And as I looked into her eyes I was taken back To a distant dream And the silence of the room Where we had once made love Somewhere far away in time. ***** 74

y I Remember All These Things And More (On Bich-Thuy) 12-13-1967 Thinking of Thuy, the Vietnamese girl I had to leave behind in Hawaii after my 4 year tour in the Navy. _____ 1.

As I turn off the lights The moonlight soaks into my eyes And the ghostly memories of those warm tropical nights From out of my broken heart arise.

2.

My heart’s a heavy weight within my chest.

And every empty night I lie alone in bed I’m deprived of any kind of rest As her memory trembles in my head.

3.

I remember everything about her: Her large brown eyes and how deep and warm they were; Her pure black hair and flower-petal skin so soft and lily-pale; Her delicate and graceful hands and cultured nails; Her palm-sized breasts with nipples firmly raised and brown; And her full-round inner thighs that used to hold me tightly down.

75

4.

I remember oh so well All the days and nights Where life and romance soared To their bursting and fullest heights. ~ I remember all these things And more. *****

76

y Your Hand Now Holding Mine (A Father And Daughter) 12-8-2011 A father’s story with my daughter Leandra in mind. _____ 1.

I put my pinky in your infant hand And felt you squeeze it as if you knew it was me.

Then I whispered in your ear and told you all about The whole new world that was ahead of you.

2.

And when you took your first step I held your hand and guided you safely across the room.

3.

And when you were learning to ride your bike I walked alongside you and held your hand to steady you.

4.

And when you went to school that first day I took your hand in mine and walked you to the door.

5.

And when you got sick with that burning fever one night I held your hand to let you know that you were not alone.

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6.

And when you had a fight with your best friend I sat beside you and held your hand And told you that everything would be alright And that I would always be your friend.

7.

And when you broke up with your first true love I held your hand as you cried upon my shoulder.

8.

And then one Christmas Eve When my heart couldn’t hold it in any longer I held your hand and told you how much I loved you And that you were the best part of my life.

9.

And when you got married I walked you down the aisle And held your hand that was nervously perched upon my arm.

10.

And when you gave birth to your children I held their hands And through them I was holding yours.

11.

And now, as I lay here on my deathbed in my final hour Reliving all those precious times I held your hand Tears of love well up in my eyes when I look down and see Your hand, now holding mine. *****

78

y Oh Mother Dear, Why Did You Leave Us? 5-29-2009 Inspired by a dream I had and perhaps by my own experience. _____ 1.

Oh Mother dear Why did you leave us At the very time we needed you the most?

Why did you leave the nest you built for us Where like little birds we felt so safe and warm?

But if the truth will be hard for us to take And will break our hearts Then Mother dear Please tell us something we can handle − Even if it is a lie.

2.

Oh Mother dear I trust there must have been some compelling reason For your leaving us.

Was it perhaps something that life had forced on you? − Something you couldn’t explain? − Or something that you felt we’d never understand?

Oh Mother dear Just give us some reason to ease our minds − Even if it is a lie.

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3.

Oh Mother dear Help us bear the tasteless food we eat And that almost makes us gag.

Help us get it down with the promise of a piece of candy That will remove the bitter taste in our mouths And help us forget what we just ate.

Oh Mother dear Tell us that life is filled with sugar-coated treats − Even if it is a lie.

4.

Oh Mother dear Don’t have us put our heads down On the cold hard rock of truth and reality That will keep us sleepless in our empty nights.

Rather, tell us fairy tales and sing us sweet lullabies That will calm our fears and put us quietly to sleep.

Oh Mother dear Please put our heads down on soft little pillows − Even if they’re made of lies.

5.

Please Mother dear Tell us that when you left us You looked back at us with a tear in your eye.

Don’t leave us with the crushing thought That we weren’t even good enough for that.

Oh Mother dear Tell us something that will take That piercing arrow from our hearts − Even if it is a lie.

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6.

Please Mother dear Tell us that there is a caring god Who sometimes makes mistakes But rectifies them in his own good time and way.

Please give us the faith and confidence That virtues are rewarded and sins are punished, That injustices and misfortunes are reversed, And that good will always triumph over evil.

Oh Mother dear Make us believe that the world is made like this And that in the end everything balances out − Even if it is a lie.

7.

Oh Mother dear Rock us in your arms and make us feel secure.

And even though you know That a harsh tomorrow looms ahead Whisper in our little ears with your warm mother’s breath And tell us that everything will be alright.

Oh Mother dear Please give us that needed reassurance − Even if it is a lie.

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8.

Oh Mother dear Please tell us that you never meant to leave us And that you always planned to return for us one day.

Tell us that you were only kidding when you left us Or just taking a little trip somewhere.

Oh Mother dear Tell us what we need to hear That will ease our little hearts and minds And quell our nagging suspicions − Even if it is a lie.

9.

Oh Mother dear Please tell us that you never really abandoned us And that you’re in fact The most loving mother in the world And we’re the most precious things you have.

Oh Mother dear Please tell us this And everything else that we long to hear − Even if it is a lie. *****

82

y Marooned At The Top 10-27-2011 The ironic negatives of being a winner. _____ 1.

He was the epitome of success.

He had reached the pinnacle in his life Only to realize That he couldn’t go any further.

2.

Having achieved all he wanted to achieve He had painted himself into a corner With nowhere else to go.

3.

He had climbed that mountain − The last and highest one on his list − Leaving him with nothing else to climb.

4.

He had achieved every goal That he’d set for himself And while it made for a perfect resume He couldn’t set any new goals And therefore Had inadvertently sabotaged his future.

83

5.

He had become overqualified For anything more in life And virtually A victim of his own success.

6.

Having achieved his goals All too well and all too fast He was in many respects a failure.

7.

He was a child star Who had peaked too early in life; A sailor marooned On the island that he discovered; The fastest ship That had suddenly run aground; A man in love But who had a hole in his heart.

8.

He had beaten all the others.

He was the winner But as the winner He was all alone in the winner’s circle.

84

9.

Ironically When you’re a winner You’re always alone.

But when you’re a loser You’re never alone And always have plenty of company.

And when you’ve done everything There’s nothing left to do.

10.

Too good, too soon − Irony at its best: At the top And can’t go higher − Done that and everything With nothing left to do − All dressed up And nowhere to go. *****

85

y Have I Come Home Too Late?

6-12-2005 Everything had changed while he was away. _____ 1.

All that had been there before Isn’t there anymore; All that was so familiar to me Is all so strange now.

Have I come home too late?

2.

Everything has changed And all the people that I used to know Are mostly dead or gone Or have changed with age and circumstance.

3.

All the quiet that I used to love about this place Has been scared away by a busy and noisy road, The tree that held the swing I used to swing on Has long been cut down, The pond I used to swim in Is now posted with a “No Swimming” sign, And the pretty girl who had given me her heart Has been taken, and full worn out with children.

86

4.

I thought that everyone and everything Would wait for me And that everything would stay the same Just as I had left it.

5.

But sadly No one waited And nothing stayed the same So it seems in fact I have come home too late. *****

87

y Friends And Enemies 10-9-2007 The need to be vigilant. _____ 1.

Be thankful for your friends And watchful of your enemies.

2.

Keep your friends close And your enemies closer.

3.

Learn to read the signs and catch the plots Early in their makings.

4.

Watch for Brutus in the crowd And Judas at your table.

5.

These skills are either natural or acquired But either way they are the skills That are of life and death importance.

6.

Watch for Brutus in the crowd And Judas at your table. ***** 88

y The Artist Is A Child 4-22-2010 An artist has a child inside of him. _____ 1.

How can he get so excited Over the way a shadow moves across the floor?

Or how the sky is painted With all the splendid colors in the world?

Or how profound his words are In that little poem he’d written?

He can Because he has that little child in him − That artist child − Who sees and feels what others can’t.

2.

How can he get so excited Over that little poem? − Over writing that little poem That everyone else finds mediocre?

He can Because he believes that it will shake the world When the world finally understands it − He can Because he has that little artist child Inside of him.

89

3.

That little child in him will never grow up.

Some hope it will So that he’d be more like them − More mature − More...more normal.

4.

But if that child ever did grow up He’d only see and feel What others see and feel And never those special things That he sees and feels.

Nor would he ever be able to write a poem That would shake the world.

5.

And how can he keep his hopes up That the world will come around And finally see the meaning of his poem And believe that when it does The earth will shake in its revelation?

How can he have such faith That one day He’ll feel the earth shake beneath his feet?

He can Because he has that little child in him That refuses to grow up And who still believes in miracles.

90

6.

So he and that little child in him Keep on waiting − Waiting for that “Aha” moment − When they finally feel the world Shake beneath their feet. *****

91

y The Empty Workshop 10-9-2013 Missing her departed husband. _____ 1.

Her husband’s been dead for a number of years now But it’s still hard for her To get used to it.

And what makes it worse Is the fact That every time she goes into the garage The reality of his loss Painfully resurfaces.

2.

The garage is where he had his little workshop And where he hung all his tools Which is now a constant reminder of his absence For she didn’t have the heart To store them away somewhere Or to convert his workshop into something else.

3 So there they remain − His tools and his workshop − Happily bringing back Her loving memories of him But sadly, adding to the agony Of her missing him.

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4.

Sometimes When she passes by his workshop She hears him working And smiles to herself Knowing what pleasure he gets From that little hobby of his.

5.

And when she goes inside And sees that he’s not there And that all is eerily quiet And all his tools are still on the wall She lies to herself that he’ll be back.

6.

She even looks for his wood shavings on the floor And sometimes swears she sees some That he missed after sweeping up.

7.

Everything that she hears and sees in the garage Is born from her memory and imagination, Her wishful thinking, And her missing him.

8.

She was so content When her denials were running high And she heard him working in his workshop But so very crushed when reality set in As she listened to the silence.

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9.

She kept telling herself though to hold on And that one day She’d wake up from this bad dream of hers And find him working in his workshop after all.

10.

She kept telling herself That one day She’d really see him working in his workshop And that after watching him a while from a distance − And still in love with him after all their years together − She’ll smile and ask him If he’d like to take a break and join her for lunch − Just like she used to do. *****

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y The Loss (To Sharon) 11-13-1965 Pining over my Brooklyn girlfriend and first love. _____ 1.

She’s never off my mind For very long, and never out of my heart.

And being the first full love my heart divined Never did a loss assert So much hurt as her loss hurt And one that my heart and soul will always cart.

2.

Years from now when she has passed away In love’s remorse, I will attend her wake And stand teary-eyed beside her grave.

And for all the years that are left to me her memory I’ll not forsake But rather keep with me to nurse my cries.

Over and over I’ll breathe her name in empty sighs Until there’s nothing left inside of me that’s worth enough to save.

3.

As often as I can, I’ll come to the foot of her poor sunken grave And all broken up with sorrow I’ll stand there Amidst the gray and brittle boughs that are now all bare And extend like dead fingers into the freezing winter air.

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4.

And in the gloom of a cold damp Dusk depressingly bleak Is where my heart, still brooding over her loss, will begin to weep And where my tears will ice upon my cheek.

Here I’ll come to her in the loneliest hours of the night For it was she who left my heart marooned on this barren site.

5.

Though I’ll forever grieve the loss of my deepest love And know that from her memory I’ll never be free I’ll grieve even more for having loved a love That in my heart I knew was never meant to be. *****

96

y Fact And Emotion (To Bich Thuy) 2-20-1967 Remembering when I told Thuy I was leaving the Navy at year end and the treasured good-bye kiss she allowed me to take. _____ 1.

Fact: Yesterday, the sparkling stars Had filled the sky with light And were larger and closer Than they’d ever been before.

Each star was a living, moving, breathing thing And a friend of mine.

And the brilliant half-moon quietly glided Like a white and billowy wind-filled sail Across the black night sky Weaving in and out among the smoky clouds That turned their ruffled edges Into to a fuzzy color of pinkish gray. ~

97

And as we walked along the beach I watched the incoming waves Drag their heels to slow themselves down Causing them to grow in height, Lean more dangerously forward as they advanced, And then turn themselves into rolling silvery tubes of moon-lit curls That finally tumbled and fell with muted roars Fanning outward across the sparkling sand Until they were sucked down into it And disappeared. ~ We stood in the sand By the border of the sea In the light of the flying half-lit moon.

2.

Emotion: I held you near and my heart flew high.

Did you see it fly? ~ My heart sang with choir strength.

Did you hear it sing? ~ My heart was beating hard.

Did you feel it beat? ~ Did you know That you were more beautiful to me Than anything I’d ever seen?

It was then, at that single moment That I would have liked to have stopped my life Than to chance a lesser mood.

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3.

Reality: But knowing I would have to leave you soon The wings on which I used to fly Were broken now And the song I used to sing Was all but gone And little more than a weak and sickly sigh From an almost empty and breathless lung.

And as for my heart It was swollen and sore Choking, pounding, heaving As my sorrows weighed upon it Until I could hardly breathe anymore − Oh the crushing thought Of ever leaving you. ~ The stars were all so far away and small And way beyond my reach.

And looking down on me Cold and scornfully clear Was that half-eyed moon all frozen white Accompanying us As we walked together along that moon drenched beach On this the most beautiful Yet most forlorn and painful night of all.

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4.

The Kiss: Then with sweet consent You let me kiss you on the lips − The lips you never let anyone Kiss before.

It was a special kiss – A special and heartbreaking Good-bye kiss.

And with my eyes closed in love I gave you everything I had inside of me Which almost tore my heart apart Knowing that soon I’d have to give you up. ~ And as I kissed you I couldn’t understand What life was all about And why it was That I had to let you go For how could I ever let you go − You, the deepest love I’d ever known.

How could I ever give you up?

How could I ever leave you on this far off shore Under this silent half-lit moon That we thought had married us for life? ~ How could I ever give you up?

How could I ever let you go? *****

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y All These Things I Tell Myself (Remembering Bich-Thuy) 11-9-1967 Trying to adjust to the harshness of Brooklyn after leaving the softness of Thuy and Hawaii. _____ 1.

Here I am Back in the tough city again From which I thought I had escaped.

Here I am Where the vulgar street and store lights Are shouting and cursing And throwing their weight around like thugs And punching gaping holes Into a gentle and defenseless night.

2.

Here I am Surrounded again by the concrete and glass And the haunting shadows of the hard city streets.

Here, amidst it all It’s especially painful Thinking about the green and sunny island of Hawaii In the middle of the blue Pacific That I had left only months before And the soft and gentle whisper Of the love I had to leave behind.

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3.

Here I am Bearing all the city’s loud insults And crude intrusions And trying to keep my thoughts from scattering Like a frightened herd of animals.

4.

Here I am Amidst the cold and harsh environment Surrounding me Trying not, for the pain of it, to remember: That distant island paradise Where she and I once lived and loved; The songs and echoes Of the birds that used to fill my heart; The soft Hawaiian moonlight In her eyes; The touch of her gentle hands Upon my face; And the excitement of her kisses In my ear.

5.

“The love you had Was all a fantasy!

What your heart once felt Doesn’t matter anymore!

Put on a fake and empty smile And convince yourself and everyone That the feelings that you’re having now Are nothing more than dreams!” ~

102

All these things I tell myself But my heart won’t listen. ~ Memories can be dulled but not erased.

Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

6.

“Pretend that all this longing pain Is just some awful hoax!

Force hope to die a cold and natural death!

Smirk at what your heart is feeling!

Force yourself to only look forward And never back!” ~ All these things I tell myself But to no avail. ~ I try to dull my feelings and numb myself But it’s not as easy as it sounds.

7.

I’d rather bear the emptiness Of never knowing her Than the sorrow Of remembering.

8.

Both the fool and lover that I am Cry out from each of their respective hearts.

They cry for sorrow.

They cry for memory.

They cry for love of her. ***** 103

y The Multiplication Of Life And Death (Manila) 5-8-2011 What is the motive behind the formulas of Life and Death? _____ 1.

“Feed me your rotting corpses And keep them coming Generation after generation”, Said the Earth to Life, “For I have an insatiable appetite And the more you feed me The hungrier I get.”

2.

Each new life that’s born Just adds another To the number who will one day die.

And with each successive generation Being larger than the last The number of those who’ll die Grows exponentially.

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3.

There doesn’t seem to be Any apparent time or motive For the beginning Of this multiplication of Life and Death Nor any forecast of its end.

It just seems to have started out spontaneously And destined to continue Forever.

4.

Each death adds fertility to the soil Which just encourages The beginning of yet another new life Followed in time by another new death.

5.

Oh Creator of Life What have you started And what was your motive in doing so?

What chain of events have you begun That now seem unstoppable And with no end in sight?

6.

And Creator of Life What is the benefit of your creating All these new-born and hopeful lives Only to have them die One right after the other And often so painfully slow?

105

7.

Oh Creator of Life What have you started And let get so out of hand?

Are you just letting Life run amuck?

Have you abandoned all your responsibilities And let Life run helter-skelter on its own Or can we expect that someday You’ll get it under control And not let it go on like this forever?

8.

Oh Creator of Life Why have you created This perpetual motion machine That keeps fueling Death with Life And Life with Death?

Why have you let yourself become A co-conspirator with Death And bloodied up Your otherwise clean and innocent hands?

And why do you continue To allow body after body To pile up one upon the other In this morbid and perplexing Multiplication of Life and Death?

Oh Creator of Life Can you please tell me why? *****

106

y Each Progression Has A Cost (To Sharon) 5-15-1962 Progress often comes at a price. Here I’m worried about Sharon’s innocence being lost. _____ 1.

In life, there’ll be so many unfair sacrifices that we’ll be dealt Such as the lovely sculptured ice of Winter that will sadly melt Before our eyes as a sacrifice to Spring.

2.

Oh Life, why have you made it so that when one thing’s born alive Something else has to die?

Oh Life, why is it that you have made things So uncompromisingly black and white?

3.

Why have you made it so that each progression has a cost − In that when something’s gained it seems that something else is lost And that for every good there’s a corresponding evil.

4.

As we advance in age we suffer the loss of youth.

And with maturity comes the loss of innocence and truth.

In Life it seems that nothing can be saved.

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5.

And when I think about your innocence I can’t help but grimace Thinking that it too may be taken away In another gruesome sacrifice.

6.

Like the day that has been wasted Its return can never again be tasted.

And likewise When innocence is lost It can never be regained.

7.

Even though we’re now apart My heart would nonetheless grieve If I were ever to learn that your innocence had been relieved For I still hold a virgin image of you in my heart.

8.

So I warn you, my love To beware of all Life’s hungry creatures That know neither pity or respect And love to feast on unguarded innocence.

9.

Still loving you I hesitate to ask that awkward question As to whether Life has made you sacrifice Your precious innocence too And dread the answer you may give.

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10.

But even if your innocence were lost I’d still love you And strangely, maybe even more.

11.

And although I should have learned From the many mistakes I’ve made before I’d go and risk my tender heart again For even the weakest promises of love and hope.

12.

And while I try to find some workable excuse To get over you It would be of little use For I still love you For reasons I will never fully understand. *****

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y My Tempest 11-9-1962 Like the storm outside is the storm in my head. _____ 1.

My eyes, burdened by their weariness Grow heavy and near to sleep.

And my thoughts, blurred, incoherent and deeply stressed Make any stable thought impossible to keep.

2.

Sitting here, in the deepest hole of this black night I can only hear the ticking of my clock.

But then arrives the wind’s unruly and gusty flights That against my quiet thoughts rudely begin to curse and mock.

3.

And with the wind the rain begins First with light, then hard pelting sounds against my window pane Growing more frenzied in their efforts to get in But they won’t succeed no matter how hard they strain.

4.

And the long, black and impoverished fingers of the trees That silhouette themselves against the dull gray sky Look like the claws of suffering animals that Torture levies On them, to maximize their pain until they finally die.

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5.

Oh how those barren branches sway, roll, bend and twist All taunted and bullied, hour by hour, by the howling wind.

And how the windows rattle in fear of this unforgiving Tempest Like the one that’s in my head that also seems will never rescind. *****

111

y Horrid Dreams 11-11-1962 A hope for an empty and final death. _____ 1.

During our long and restless sleep: What horrid dreams are unearthed?

What dreaded things in our troubled minds do creep?

From what fears do we think we won’t survive?

What nightly agonies trail us throughout our lives From the very minute after our births To the very last second before we die?

2.

And when we do die, is that just the beginning of another sleep Packed with more dreams that we’ll have to keep That may be even more horrible than the ones we’ve had before But that now will last forevermore?

3.

Oh how I pray that our final and eternal sleep Will be empty of everything − Empty of any after-life that so many of us seek.

Oh how I pray that our final sleep Will be empty of everything. *****

112

y In A Park, Watching And Listening 11-25-1962 Impressions at night in Vanderveer Park, a small one-block park on Avenue I in Brooklyn. _____ Sitting in this little park tonight I’m noticing − As if for the first time in my life − How differently all things look and sound at night: How the darkness seems to have no bounds; How the heavy wrap of night softens even the sharpest of sounds; How muted echoes from far away, strangely seem so near; And how even common things seem so very dear.

Oh how differently all things look and sound at night. *****

113

y Expecting Winter 11-25-1962 Impressions of winter coming. _____ 1.

For Winter’s long expected advent the preparation has begun.

First and foremost are the shortened visits of the Sun. And next, are the colored leaves Making their annual downward spiraling flights Warning everyone to brace for Winter’s coming might.

2.

And when all the trees are finally bare They ready themselves like soldiers at full attention In silent and stoic wait For the cold Wind’s brash and punishing intentions Where they’ll be forced to bow in homage All during Winter’s brutal reign And brace themselves mentally and physically For their upcoming months of freezing pain.

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3.

Oh how these winter trees Now stripped of all their protective leaves Will stand as naked skeletons And shiver without complaint in the cold and icy breeze.

And even though, like true soldiers They’re ready to fall and die for the cause They’ll fight with a vengeance, just as they always have In all their past Winter wars. *****

115

y The Barren Trees Obey 1-12-1963 Observations on a cold and rainy winter night from my front porch in Brooklyn where I did a lot of my thinking and writing. _____ 1.

The Winter Wind blows her blistering call On a scene where all of Life it seems has been evacuated Except for the barren and obedient trees That still stand there courageous and tall.

2.

Icy pellets of Rain are hurled About, some dropping to the ground While others catch themselves on tiny branches And hang precariously boldly facing and defying the world.

3.

The black streets are mirrored sheens Collecting and reflecting all the shimmering moods Of my lost and painful dreams.

4.

Bushes, hedges, shrubs and all Stand shivering in the freezing Rain Stiffening more with every Wind-blown gusty call.

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5.

Rows of houses stand in dark-drenched endless lines − A gloomy and unpleasant scene to most, but to me They give me an introspective kind of awe That I can’t fully explain, understand, or define.

6.

Black wires stretch across the street With shiny little transparent Raindrops of light Hanging off them that make them look Like a string of pearls sparkling and beautifully petite.

Oh the curious beauty and the icy agony Of this cold and rainy Winter Night. *****

117

y A Cold Wet Sunday Morn 1-13-1963 Wandering impressions on a cold and wet morning. _____ 1.

I wake up to a heavy misty morn And see the city concrete, all wet, dreary and worn Which steers my mood accordingly To where I feel, that while man has some nobility And is a higher form of life he is nonetheless Still a lowly animal, born in litters and muddy nests And who are quickly abandoned and left to fend for themselves Right after their unceremonious world debuts And who’ll really never know who they are Or what kind of world they’ve been born into.

2.

The sky is dull and gray and wrapped in fog and dew Which paints the whole world in a heavy somber view Wetting, not only its wizened face But also soaking deep down into its very base All of which cause my thoughts to begin To morph into moods that I so often find myself in.

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3.

This heavy rainy theater compels my mind to burrow Down into unchallenged thoughts of grief and sorrow And into places I didn’t ever want to go − Places that drain my soul and eat away my marrow − Places that I so much fear and dread But that, in my weakened state, I’m so easily and willingly lead.

4.

Up ahead of me I see an uphill street With arching trees that meet To form a sinewy Kind of canopy.

And atop that hill I also see The blurry rain-made frozen hallowed glows Of street lights that are all lined up in measured rows.

5.

I also see heavy laidened bulbs of rain Hanging off the bowing power wires Who, when they eventually tire Or are beckoned by the Wind’s slightest call Will, to their deaths, eventually fall.

And when they finally do fall and hit the ground Each one of them will yield its own distinctive fingerprint sound.

And to replace those fallen soldiers Are rows of waiting volunteers who’ll be the next to fall And who’ll gladly give up their lives whenever they are called.

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6.

My heels create muffled echoes as I walk That interchange with each other Making it sound as if they’re actually talking.

And when I breathe it’s like a love affair Wherein my lungs accept the morning air Into its waiting and maternal hearth And then with a cry a new-born misty breath is given birth.

7.

Oh, you cold, wet and heavy misty morn How is it that every time we meet, we marry And you relieve me of so many of the worries that I carry?

It’s such an uncommon and special synergy we share And one that gives me some sense of both mystery and worth And makes my scant and unspecial life Less difficult to bear. *****

120

y A Lost Love 1-17-1963 Someone broken by love.

(Inspired in part by the freight train tracks that went through my old neighborhood in Brooklyn.) _____ 1.

Beneath the lunar haze there sits Upon a wooden box Among the weeds Against a warehouse wall A lonesome soul with dirty rustled locks.

2.

All around him Are freight train tracks That stretch out in all directions And gradually merge in the far distance Until they all but to a pin point disappear.

There he sits alone in empty thought With no one in the world that even knows he’s there.

3.

He’s just like that rusted freight car next to him − Frozen, bare and empty − A freightless, weightless shell without a soul.

121

4.

There he sits Looking blankly at the cold and rainy sky With nothing in his heart or mind Except the painful thought Of the one who took her love away And broke his heart − Of the one who crushed his soul And put him here. *****

122

y Age Versus Innocence 1-19-1963 Innocence is lost to maturity. _____ 1.

Long before the light is born I sit up and wait for Morn.

In time the Sun will wake Like some sleepy head Lazy and hesitant to leave its bed.

Slowly, it will open up its squinting eye And begin to plan the course that it will take To adorn and rule the empty and waiting Sky. 2.

I never have to wait too long For the lovely Morn For in time it always shows its face And when it does, every former dark and empty space Will slowly, with its warm and caring light, be gently filled.

See?! Here it comes as Hope anew!

The Dawn!

Rising up above my windowsill!

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3.

But as the Dawn Proceeds along its destined course And matures into Day Its new-born morning beauty Begins to show its loss For as it ages it will sacrifice To both our disappointment and our pain The flower of its innocence That was once But will never be again. *****

124

y Nothing Else In Store (On Sharon?)

1-23-1963 On the emptiness of losing a love, most likely Sharon’s. _____ 1.

With her loss my heart’s an open sore The likes of which I had never felt before.

And as I roam within this bleak Night’s setting I’m constantly regretting That with her loss I have nothing anymore.

2.

In time the heavens will tire And with great relief expire Its heavy load into a finely drizzling rain That will relieve its weighty pain And later collect itself into little glistening drops That will hang below every out-stretched branch and wire And invite me to brood upon them and distract me From the worries that my troubled soul does so often sire.

3.

A distant church bell pealed its ancient tone Murmuring all alone.

No one can ever fully appreciate Life, until he’s caught by his own unforgiving Fate.

A distant church bell pealed its ancient tone Murmuring all alone.

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4.

Thinking deep and long, I recall That beautiful night where my heart in love did fall And where I felt her passionate embrace.

But then, with her loss, it was all erased.

5.

That night, was similar to this one now Where in the darkness we couldn’t wait To press our bodies hard against each other As hard as was allowed.

But just like all the other times, our love we’d never consummate For as heated as we’d get, we’d somehow always hesitate.

6.

It’s such a shame that now she has to be replaced With just the shallow memory of her darling face.

Still hanging over me is the unforgettable pain, even to this date Of those hopeful passions that were all For whatever reason, doomed by Fate.

7.

Now my spirit only moves among the prickly briers Which cut and burn like fire On this horrid painful course In this swampy forest of remorse.

8.

As I stumble in my grief, who is it that always comes And taunts me then turns away and runs?

Are these the phantoms of my misery Born of the hauntings of all my broken memories?

126

9.

The tear in my eye best reports The pain that my heart now courts And illustrates how Sorrow has eaten out my core Leaving me a hollow shell and little more.

10.

I now must bear an emptiness that wasn’t there before.

Because of her, there’s nothing left inside of me − Nor will there ever be − Anymore. *****

127

y To Repay What Was Loaned 2-1-1963 We only borrow Life. _____ 1.

Darkness now descends upon me Where no sight or sound Can penetrate the inner sanctum That now envelops me.

2.

The walls of my coffin are all that I can see And confine and hold me tightly bound − Bound by the rigor of Death when Life has gone − Waiting and wondering how long in here I’ll have to be.

3.

I feel the heavy weight of the earth that’s piled on top of me As here I lay locked in my tomb.

With my life all gone behind me I finally have a better understanding Of not only the secrets of Life and Death and Immortality But also, of what in Life I should and shouldn’t have done.

128

4.

Nothing really dies and nothing’s really born And nothing is as it first appears.

For Life and Death are really one and the same Composed of two inseparable parts.

Death concedes to Life and Life concedes to Death And understanding this, resolves both the mystery and the fear.

5.

A black and musty dampness permeates my grave As the moisture leaks down through the ground − Down through the maze of earth and rock That’s heaped upon me as both my body and my soul lie in wait.

6.

So here I am, staring straight ahead in this claustrophobic state Harassed by all my worries and anxieties Listening to the voices that I hear, Cringing at the ghosts I see, And always wondering how the Phantoms of my Past Will influence my Fate.

7.

Now I see it all so plain − The Plan of Life and Death in all its simplicity: When something gains its Life Another pays with Death In an equal and exact exchange.

129

8.

So it is with everything, throughout eternity Where there is no actual gain or loss Only a perfect and constant balance between Life and Death.

So I ask myself, “What has my Death caused in Life To be rearranged?

What has my death made it possible For something else to live?

What has my Death been applied against To make things all balance out?”

9.

Life dies and Death lives and all the while Within my body’s slow decay Worms and parasites are born Out of the Life that I once had.

10.

So now my body’s just a remnant pile For almost all of it has rotted away And the sunken grass above my grave Proves its vacancy. ~ I once had a Life that I never really owned But only one, that I was merely loaned. *****

130

y Are We Better Or Worse Off? 8-4-1963 Our evolutionary ascension comes at a price. _____ 1.

Questions, questions everywhere On which my Mind and Soul do gnaw and tear.

2.

Has that natural Darwinian process That evolved us to our higher states in Life Only given us additional and unwanted cerebral pain and strife?

3.

Have we just traded our prior ignorance and painless bliss For the worries and dissatisfactions that now seem endless?

Has our ascension gotten us to any better state of joy Or have we only been the victims Of some clever and self-deluding ploy?

4.

Questions, questions, everywhere On which my Mind and Soul do gnaw and tear.

5.

Our superior lives today are not so ideal as they appear And counter any argument that we’re more satisfied Or more at ease in our supposedly elevated tiers.

131

6.

And whatever improvements we’ve made Only seem to have added to our strife And challenge any claim we make That we’ve achieved a happier and more contented life.

7.

Will the winds and waves of our more complicated lives Ever calm down – will they ever abate?

Or will we always find ourselves with our pressing drives That come from our ever-increasing stressful state?

8.

Questions, questions, everywhere On which my Mind and Soul do gnaw and tear.

9.

And likewise, for all the advances that we’ve made Don’t they only just accentuate the ones we haven’t made?

10.

Since our intelligence whips-saws our hopes To highs and lows and disappointing extremes Might we be better off without our new and stylish coats And all our extravagant dreams?

11.

For all the progress that we’ve made Are we really any better off for the price we’ve paid?

12.

Questions, questions, everywhere On which my Mind and Soul do gnaw and tear. ***** 132

y The End Of Flesh 11-28-1963 After death our remains feed other lives. _____ 1.

By late Autumn The leaves were no longer able to feed themselves For the sap they fed upon Had all hardened by Winter’s coming spell And became so starved and wizened dry That one by one they sadly died and fell.

2.

To save itself and prepare for Winter’s punishment The tree withdrew its life blood from all its precious leaves Abandoning them to both their singular and collective fates Despite their anguished and pitiful pleas.

3.

And when the trees were finally bare They looked just like skeletons With their boney arms and fingers Silhouetted against the pale gray sky.

And with their trunks all surrounded By a circle of a million fallen leaves They tried to understand Just why those innocent leaves of theirs Had to be sacrificed and left to die.

133

4.

In time Those dried up leaves will moisten and become the soil And the soil in turn will cradle a seed and bare the fruit Of a new-born Life that will emerge from what was Death And their sacrifice is what’s demanded for a new-born root.

Life requires Death to lead the way For Death is both the beginning and the end of Life.

5.

Man too shall see his body fall away And be buried in the earth.

And when it does its sunken grave Will mark the payment of the entrance fee For some little flower’s birth For there’s nothing of ourselves Or for ourselves in Life That we can ever keep. *****

134

y On Solitude 12-27-1963 Wishing to escape the harsh din of life. _____ 1.

All the city noises ring harshly in my ears − Shrill, sharp, loud and fierce.

Bearing it as best I can, I lift my eyes upward and peer Through all the wire-fingers of a winter tree And see an icy almond-shaped moon looking down at me.

2.

So brilliant is this moon against the saintly sable night That I can feel the silence that’s contained within its light.

No sound at all exists in its arctic distant latitude And nothing surrounds its cold and lucent rays But the lovely and absorbing void of its quiet solitude.

3.

Oh how I wish that I could have a similar silence As the moon has way up there With no harsh or ugly sounds that I so often have to bear − With none of Life’s sharp and piercing tones But just some quiet moonlight of my own That I can bathe in all alone. *****

135

y To A Lovely Day 1-2-1964 What a fresh winter breeze can do to my spirits. _____ 1.

The wind is up today.

It’s a lovely wind that’s strong and swift in pace And a constant one with a snappy and refreshing race.

The wind is brisk today.

2.

The air is crisp today.

It’s fresh and clean and blows in icy sheets − Winter-fresh and clear and winter-fast and fleet.

The breeze is bold today.

3.

The sky is clear today.

And all the clouds are sailing ships with fluffy sails of white Flying across a vast blue lake of winter light.

The sky is fair today.

4.

My soul is free today And riding on the currents of the breeze − Riding high above my worries.

136

5.

My soul is so alive today Breathing in the freshest air That I have ever breathed On any other day.

My soul is so alive today. *****

137

y Ode To An Orange Vesper View 1-10-1964 On a sunset viewed from my bedroom window in Brooklyn. _____ 1.

I see from outside my window, the evening Dusk’s dim haze Born of the fire of a dying Sun That has made the evening sky a sheet of orange blaze Ending what the Morning had begun.

Its colors, as it sinks behind the earth Glow like the embers in some mythical celestial hearth − The glow of a heavy orange hue − An Orange Vesper view.

2.

That sinking ball of fire, after taking in its final breath Fills the sky with the color of its last exhale − The radiant shades of its fiery death − The flame-like dye of its textured Vesper veil.

And marked so bold against its gasping orange hue Before it’s finally doused Are the swarthy tree trunks and their heavy boughs That are branded on the waning ocher sky All stretched out and reaching high.

138

3.

This evening sky is like a placid lake of liquid light With leagues of deep and mellow tones Whose somber depths of color gradually fade from sight As you slowly raise your eyes And gaze into that upper, empty, and colorless zone.

But the remnant colors that still remain before they die Are layered like prism bands And painted on the dusky sky in their signature brands Of subtle colors reserved especially for this special Autumn eve Just before they whisper their last good-byes And take their final leave.

4.

That slowly fading orange-colored ball Swelling and becoming more and more opaque Has sunken now to just above the treetops, at a height That just touches the borders of that increasingly blurry break − That line of demarcation that separates Day from Night − Where the vault of gray and bluish colors blend Into ever-deepening and darker shades as Night descends To end that orange furnace brew And to finally douse that Orange Vesper view.

5.

And when I look a little higher above the southwest winter trees I see the dim and icy jewel of Venus As a clear and silent bell, tolling the death of Light that now leaves This sky and will slowly slip into a dark and eerie genus.

The evening, no longer excited by the Sun’s former orange fire Is losing all its color, making everything look so cold and dire And leaving only a hint of that former huge orange ball of heat − That Vesper-last of the Sun’s retreat.

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6.

Now the chilly cold of evening’s reign begins Where orange has resolved itself into tones of blue and gray Making all the evening colors ever more obscure.

Soon the stars, like tiny diamond pins Of light, begin to emerge and assemble for their nightly tour And that lovely glowing Orange Vesper hue Has all but been replaced by a cold and sable view For the Sun has gone and fully set and will only return With tomorrow Morning’s dew.

7.

Throughout my life I never will forget The orange color of that evening Sun’s last and final breath That I witnessed from my bedroom pew − That lovely Orange Vesper hue − That last and soulful Orange Vesper view. *****

140

y A February Moon 2-28-1964 The captivating beauty of a February Moon. _____ 1.

I’m looking over a low stretch of houses And see their windows being lit One by one as Vesper gently arouses Them. I also see a lurid Moon trying desperately to fit Itself, into a damp and misty sky, where Instinctively it knows it belongs.

Silently it hangs there Making every effort to be strong Trying to hold onto its struggling evening light Against the black and intimidating Night.

2.

This evening Moon is muted by a shroud of mist As a chilling fog pervades The sky, allowing me to only see the gist Of this young Moon, hampered further by the passing clouds That shade and dull its normally bright and shiny rule.

In its vague and fragile state It looks somewhat like a glowing disc Peeking through a gossamer veil That has stretched itself across this Night.

Its outline is wavy and insecure with a blurry white metallic Shine to it, as if it were some fallen Viking’s shield of sturdy make Reflecting upward from the bottom of some dark medieval lake.

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3.

With each passing cloud of ether-like Mist The Moon’s outline eerily oscillates.

And as those marauding clouds persist I can’t detect any solid trait Of clarity or tangibility.

Rather, I only see this Moon as a gleaming floating host Ever pulsing in this dark Night’s misty currency That shrouds and dulls its otherwise eminent silvery boast.

But how beautiful and mysterious it is with its hazy hallowed rim And its frayed and vaguely white-illuminated trim.

4.

And as I watch the vaporous borders of this Moon Shivering in its envelope of fog, I hail Its bravery, and wonder at the orchestrated beauty Of that magnificent triune Of Night, the cloudy Mist, and this glorious straining Moon Each with its own tale To tell, and each fiercely independent of the other Yet somehow all dependent and in phase.

And as I peer in awe and wonder into this Night’s swirling maze I give birth to a million dreams That further distort the milky seams Of this full Moon On this freezing Winter Night In the Second Month of February. *****

142

y The Noble Efforts Of The Moon 1-25-1965 Our moon provides us some inspirational comfort in life. _____ 1.

I always seem to end up on the mossy side of town Where wayward, lost and forlorn moods Dress themselves in grimaced frowns And sulk in sticky bog-like broods.

2.

This life of ours provides us little comfort or shallow guidance Not much more than Braille.

And our troubles wrap themselves around our weary hearts And stick us with their thorns.

And the icy winds of disappointment make things even worse As we’re constantly assailed By all our heavy moods as we try to make it through The dingy alleyways where they are born.

3.

Desperate minds and hearts always lurk Where life’s sores and ill moods so comfortably reside.

And as well, our sour moods become the havens of all the hurts In which our sorrowed souls are inclined to hide.

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4.

But can’t we glean even a little relief tonight From the vigil of our lovely Moon Who kindly offers us its ageless light And whose aim it is, is to give us hope enough To lighten up the burdens of our earthly plights?

5.

Yes, for some hope does attend the advent of the Moon For through its lovely rays It helps us brave some of our most dreaded frights And saves us from the islands of despair On which we so often find ourselves marooned.

6.

And as a mother would, she offers us her teat To satisfy our hunger and let us get some sleep.

While she can’t always help us Against all our darkest fears and fated dooms We’re forever grateful to her for her selfless efforts And for her trying, and the unconditional love she always keeps For us, and for this we thank her − Our most loyal and gracious Moon. *****

144

y A Silent Reprimand (To Jane) 5-31-1965 Trying to understand the motives behind Jane’s reluctance.

(Written at sea aboard the USS Henley (DD 762) to Jane Blum, a Washington, DC girlfriend.) _____ 1.

Why is it that so frequently you seem To change your affection towards me, and often not With the slightest motive that my baffled eyes Can see? Beneath each change I’m sure a motive lies.

But not knowing what quirk, or worse, what devious plot May lie behind them is what haunts me like some stalking fiend.

2.

Is it some kind of shyness that takes away your hand From mine. Is it something as simple as that And so easily explained?

Or is it something more complex Like some fear or shame of me?

Or some kind of subtle reprimand That makes you frequently retreat into your icy shell?

Although I’ve tried, I still can’t figure out What your reasons might exactly be.

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3.

How can I gauge Your heart, other than through Your ice-cold crystal eyes of blue?

In time I hope, perhaps naively That they’ll soften and become the stage From which your passion might awaken and take its cue.

So I watch and wait for your gaze To soften from its current steely and unsettling view.

4.

Please reveal the reasons for your hesitations If at all you can So that I may understand you more And better judge myself as well.

Help me understand Why your hands and eyes so often turn to ice, before I make the wrong assumptions about myself, you, or us And possibly damn us all to Hell.

5.

And tell me if there’ll ever come a time when I’ll deserve To have a lover’s smile from you − To have you willingly extend your hand − To have you put your lips to mine without reserve − To have your heart, without some silent reprimand. *****

146

y Competing Forces (Where Do We Go From Here?)

6-11-1965 Our primal instincts and logical minds are often at odds. _____ 1.

What is right?

And what is wrong?

These are man’s competing and perplexing questions.

And even after we’ve decided on the answers We still have to ask ourselves, “Where do we go from here?”

2.

The mind contains an ever-present fear In every choice we make − The fear in all of us − The fear of simply choosing.

3.

Ignorance berths so many of our fears And self-preservation, being our most primitive instinct, Drives most of all our inclinations and our choices And therefore shouldn’t be considered our most reliable advisors.

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4.

Even sophisticated reasoning And higher education Can’t seem to over-ride Our basic fears and primal instincts.

Nor can they replace What experience has engrained in us No matter how hard we try.

5.

Reason and education Versus Instinct and experience − Competing universal forces of choice − First supporting, then undermining − First confirming, then contradicting − First reassuring, then unsettling.

6.

And so even after we have decided We’re still not sure of our decisions And often have to ask ourselves, “Where do we go from here?” *****

148

y At Sea 8-17-1966 Observing how the ship agitates the phosphorescent organisms at night aboard the USS McMorris (DE-1036) in the North Pacific. _____ 1.

Looking out this evening Into the distance of the ocean, I see A dark, heavy and threatening rain-filled squall Hanging down and dragging along the surface of the sea Like an old black tattered shawl.

2.

Then looking down, I see a ring of lights around the ship − A halo of pulsating sparks Made by all the phosphorescent creatures that we awoke And that mark Their fright and anger over the ship’s intrusive sin Of slicing through the peaceful waters That they once slumbered in.

3.

But when we pass they forgive us of our sin And quickly fall asleep again Returning the sea To its black and peaceful silence Once again. *****

149

y Overlooking Honolulu From Tripler (To Bich-Thuy) 1-28-1967 I took Thuy to a high point at Tripler Air Force Base, in Hawaii, which overlooked the valley and was captured by its beauty which was fuelled by my infatuation with her. _____ 1.

Looking through the weeping willow trees My eyes were filled With all the lovely multi-colored lights That tumbled down Onto the hills below.

2.

And lifting up my eyes I saw the panoramic sky As a big black blanket On which the stars were all spread out upon it.

I also saw the gossamer glow of misty clouds That were gently coerced By this night’s warm and whispering breeze.

150

3.

The leaves on all the bushes and trees Were shining white Reflecting all the glory of the moon.

And when the wind would speak to them They’d all giggle, dance and sparkle in response.

4.

A million insects Choired from their grassy hiding places And the Song Of this loveliest night of all Was in my heart And almost on my lips.

5.

And as we sat together Overlooking that lighted valley below I was overcome With the prospect Of her love and beauty being mine But also frightened By the power and rule that she had over me. *****

151

y

At Sea Today − Tonight 6-22-1967 Observations of a sun and moonrise on watch out at sea in the North Pacific. _____ 1.

Today: At sea today the clouds were running white With sharp flat bottoms and billowy tops.

And just above the Eastern line Was the rising Sun Making a million shining mirrors On the surface of the sea. ~ I will never forget The birth of that new-born day And the thrill and hope Of all things good and new to come.

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2.

Tonight: The Moon appeared With its pale-soft orange fuzzy borders Insecure and tense.

But as it rose, it hardened Into a bold and confident solid white And stared down at me With a brash and forward self-assurance.

It stared directly and defiantly into my face As if to put me in my place.

Was it really conceit and arrogance That I saw in that glaring eye?

Or was it my own self-consciousness Just reading into things too much again?

Or was she perhaps something more benign Like a secret admirer Or maybe even a lover Trying to seduce me in this night of hers?

Or more so, was she my Bride Waiting for me at her alter in this night’s sky With her long and shiny reflection On the surface of the sea That lay in front of me Being the trail of her embroidered bridal gown? ~ Yes, that’s the way I want to remember her − That silent ocean Moon − As a beautiful, innocent and blushing Bride And not as some harsh and disapproving Witch Looking down on me. *****

153

y I Cannot Sleep Because Of Her (On Bich-Thuy) (2 am) 10-30-1967 At night I’d often sit in the front porch of my home in Brooklyn and reflect upon my life. This time I was thinking about Thuy who I left in Hawaii after serving 4 years in the Navy. _____ 1.

Unable to sleep I’m sitting in the dark in the front porch of my house Looking out upon a dead and empty winter street Absorbed with only sad and restless thoughts of her – The girl who still owns my heart.

2.

The shadow of a bare-leafed branch Slowly waves back and forth Against a patch of moonlight on the wall And stirs in me An eerie and unsure feeling of myself.

3.

I hear a dried up fallen leaf driven by the wind Scratching claw-like on the concrete ground outside And the never-steady always-gusting wind Making rattling icy plates out of all the windowpanes.

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4.

I see and feel the wind Squeezing through the window frames Making all the curtains breathe And the room so awfully damp and cold.

5.

Looking up I can barely see the stars Through the dingy veil of the smog-filled city air For these stars are so unlike The finely sprinkled diamonds That I know are spread out Across the clear and pitch-black sky In the warm and dear Hawaii That I left behind some months ago.

Sadly here The stars are only weak and blurry dots − Just hints of stars – Not really stars at all.

6.

The wind speaks up in icy gusts And the boughs respond accordingly Bending slowly like flexible wands And creaking with every move as if in pain.

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7.

And as the caravan of anemic stars Moves westward They’re escorted by a pale full moon.

And in the streets The winds maraud like rowdies And for fear of them Not a stick or stone Will say a single word in protest But rather just hold their tongues And accept their fates Knowing that in time All things will pass.

8.

This is what I see and feel tonight In my dark and icy porch Hurting with a pained and heavy heart Missing my Hawaii And the brown-eyed girl I had to leave behind. *****

156

y Nearing To The End Of Night 3-8-1968 Impressions on a drizzly night while on the Staten Island Ferry returning to Manhattan after a date with a Karen Tanaskovic.

(Karen had sadly been molested by her uncle that traumatized her.) _____ 1.

Nearing to the end of night As the darkness slowly thins An icy mist begins To form, that swells up all the city lights Making them look larger than what they really are And more mysterious by far.

Then, it begins to rain And I feel eerily in contact with almost everything.

2.

With an eye and mind like mine, acute and serious, I can place myself At the epicenter of a rain-drop’s expanding rings After it smashes, like a meteor Into a puddle’s formerly smooth and static surface.

Tonight, with this special kind of sensitivity I can touch the souls of almost everything.

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3.

I can smell the heavy scent of damp cement And taste the silver water droplets that wet The cold brown trees, and present Themselves like shiny icy sequins everywhere they set.

Tonight, I can read the inner thoughts of almost everything.

4.

A gusty wind beats the rain into a driving biting spray That chaps and reddens my cheeks And whips my thoughts and emotions From those that are in complete disarray To those that are at their most coherent, Insightful and sharpened peaks.

Tonight, I can hear the heartbeats of almost every living thing.

5.

This night, like on so many other rainy nights, Awakes in me a special kind of insight That gives birth to what others cannot feel or see.

Tonight, I am one with almost everything. *****

158

y Never To See Her Again?

(To Bich-Thuy) 9-23-1968 Still emotionally involved with Thuy, this poem was inspired by her departure from JFK airport on 6-26-1968 after her summer attendance at New York University in New York City.

(Written on a plane returning from a trip I took through Europe with a former Navy shipmate of mine, John Kasdorf.) _____ 1.

I held her for the last time Trying to capture the smell and feel of her In the cotton dress and blouse she wore And that I might never smell or feel again.

I couldn’t kiss her, for I was near to crying And a kiss would surely break What little composure I had left.

2.

“Go now, please go”, I told her.

And as I did, I felt her tighten on me, Then loosen, Then turn and walk away Down the ramp and onto the plane.

159

3.

I saw her in the little oval window of the plane Holding a handkerchief against her eyes.

She waved at me And I waved back With the little red ticket I had From the airport parking lot.

4.

Then I cried, with my chest heaving.

Never to see her again?

It was something That I couldn’t believe was happening.

It was something That I’d only seen in the movies Or read about in books And never thought could happen to me.

5.

I couldn’t conceive Of never seeing her again For she was taking with her So much of me.

6.

And as I thought about it − About never seeing her again − I cried again.

Some people looked at me Then politely looked away − But others stared.

I used my sleeves to wipe away my tears For I’d given my handkerchief to her.

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7.

I saw her wave again and cry.

And as she cried I actually heard her crying And even felt and tasted her tears As they rolled down her cheek − Yes, she was that close to me − She was that deep inside my heart.

8.

After a while I had to sit down For I felt the blood draining from my head.

Out and out it drained Down to almost empty.

9.

I just couldn’t conceive Of never seeing her again For she was taking with her So much of me. *****

161

y A Cold Rainy Windy Night 11-18-1968 Cold rainy nights always conjure up poetic and trance-like images. _____ 1.

Before it rained the wind came up − A raging wind that brings to Autumn nights Gangs of leaves stampeding through the streets Like a wild unruly mob stirred up by a desperate cause.

2.

Then it rained And I heard the heavy rain drops Splashing hard upon the ground.

I also saw the lights in the windows Dying one by one As the neighborhood began to go to sleep.

And in this setting I walked the black, wet and shinny streets Studying the hypnotizing street lights That shimmered off the agitated puddles That were everywhere.

162

3.

I went another block And stopped in a doorway to have a smoke.

From there I watched the headlights of the cars Fill with gusts of rain That made them look like Pulsating balls of lightning That come with the summer heat And like they were almost breathing.

4.

Even though I’m wet, cold and alone And feeling strange That I’m the only one out on a night like this I feel curiously content For I’m always away somewhere − Somewhere in the dreams and trances That I often go into On nights like this. *****

163

y My Gift To You Tonight (On Bich-Thuy In Hawaii) 12-24-1969 Still having deep and confused feelings for Thuy I’m remembering a vigil I kept on a visit to Hawaii on my return from a trip to Asia.

(Inspired, in part, by a scene from the movie, “Dr. Zhivago.”) _____ 1.

Looking up from my chair I see you lying there In the bed on the other side of the room Breathing lightly And sleeping like an angel.

2.

The wind is beating on the window Boasting of its strength And exciting all my heart-born dreams of you That range from nothing to everything − All mixed up and vague With not one of them a solid thing at all And the perfect storm for a love-sick heart like mine That can’t settle down or control itself Over its nagging and unresolved love for you.

164

3.

A sense of loneliness comes over me As I sit here watching you sleep While I write about a hopeless love That I just can’t seem to put to rest.

Can you feel me watching you?

Can you feel me over here in love with you All over again And my heart Picking up where it left off?

4.

My face and chest are flush From all the wine That I’ve been drinking for hours now.

And my mind and heart are almost exhausted From trying to reach you Telepathically And have you invite me to your bed.

But since you haven’t moved as yet I’ll wait a little longer.

5.

Although I want so much To lay down with you I won’t As this will be my awkward gift to you tonight – Not to wake you from your sleep.

165

6.

So instead I’ll just wait until your silent invitation comes When hopefully sometime in the night You’ll awake And without a word Extend your hand to me And ask me In love and silence To join you there.

7.

And as I listen to the palm trees Rustling in the wind outside And hear all the other sounds In this lovely moon-lit night of ours I stay awake and watch you With my mind all crammed with loving thoughts of you That I never thought I’d find so full again − But now, here with you again I’ve found them in their fullest.

8.

I no longer hear The cracking of the ice in my drink For it’s gotten warm and stale While waiting for your invitation Which never came For you slept right through my watch As if I weren’t even there.

166

9.

So, with the dawn just an hour or so away I’ll end my quiet and disappointing vigil And kiss you, “Goodnight” Without your ever knowing Of my silent gift to you tonight.

10.

Tonight was just a night Like so many other nights Whose hopes and dreams Have gone unfulfilled − Just another mirage In the parched and empty desert That I’m always walking in with you.

11.

But as always I’m still hoping for A new and magic world to appear And take us in − A world with different rules And where impossibilities can happen.

12.

I’m always hoping For that ever-promising second chance for us − Maybe in the morning − Or maybe on another night − But sadly and most likely Never. *****

167

y Headlights On The Snow 1-22-2001 Mustering up his courage. _____ 1.

He parked his pick-up truck Close to the cattle fence As he did every morning just before dawn With its headlights Shining across a field of snow Giving it a strangely warm and golden glow.

2.

His coffee’s steaming up the windows On the driver’s side.

3.

He’s got his radio on very low So as not to distract him From trying to arrange some order Out of all that worries him.

4.

It’s 5 am − He’s alone − And it’s dark and very cold outside.

168

5.

He prays that time will slow down a bit And that dawn will be delayed a little − Just long enough for him to finish his coffee And to build his courage up To face another day. *****

169

y Thanks But I Can See My Own Way Out 3-5-2001 Wanting to experience death privately and personally. _____ 1.

My end is near And I can’t hold out much longer.

It’s now, just a matter of time.

2.

My mind is calm and reconciled For it’s lost both its will to live And its fear of dying And is now ready to let go of Life Which is already reaching its hand out to Death.

3.

Dear friend, don’t feel you have to stay with me For I’m not afraid to die alone In fact, I prefer to be alone.

So without any guilt or hesitation Just slip the bow line of my boat And let the current take me where it may.

4.

Please leave me be in my final hours.

Please let me have my privacy In that special sacred moment When I’ll finally meet this thing called Death.

170

5.

I feel my inners slowly shutting down And that Life and Death are now Both in the room With one on the left and the other on the right − With each one reaching out for the other’s hand And both in agreement as to how things will proceed.

6.

Please dear friend, be a true friend of mine By not trying to intervene on my behalf But rather, just let me be For I want to fully experience − In my own private and personal way − How Life is gently handed off to Death.

7.

Dear friend, you needn’t stay with me.

Though I appreciate your kindness I don’t need your vigil to comfort me For I can walk these last few steps By myself.

8.

I want to feel my life slowly drain out of me − Privately, and without distraction.

I want to feel all and every part of me Expire, one by one − Each in sequence and in turn.

I want to experience Nature Doing her most intimate and personal work.

171

9.

I want to see for myself This Life-to-Death transition That I’ve always heard so much about.

Like witnessing the changing colors of the leaves in autumn I want to see and feel my change, first hand.

So all I ask of you, is that you try to understand And just leave me be And not to worry, for I’ll be OK. 10.

I know that it’s my time now But I’m not afraid.

So let my heart and soul Concentrate on their transitions.

Let me meet my Fate in private.

Let me introduce myself to Death − That thing you always hear But are afraid to talk about − That thing that I’ll be spending more time with Than I ever spent with Life − That thing that I’ll be spending an eternity with.

11.

So please good friend Let me meet my Death on my own terms And in my own personal way For it will be Both an honor and a privilege for me.

Just let me be For there’s no need for you to stay Thinking that you’re helping me For as I said before I’m not so afraid to die as I used to be.

172

12.

And don’t be sad or sorry for my passing For rest assured I’ll be alright.

And don’t feel guilty either About leaving me alone For you’ll actually be doing me a favor.

13.

Don’t feel that I don’t appreciate Your kindness and consideration It’s just that I want to be The full and solitary witness to my passing.

And trust me my dear and faithful friend I won’t be alone For I’ll have both Courage and Curiosity To comfort me.

14.

And finally, friend, don’t worry yourself About some phantom obligation That you may think you have to me.

Please clear your conscience Of any thoughts like that For honestly, I’ll be alright.

15.

So good-bye my friend And thank you for your offer But I can see my own way out. *****

173

y They Shall Become Our Masters 4-30-2001 We often become full of ourselves and forget our roots. _____ 1.

Some among us will leave the tribe And venture out in search of better things.

They’ll bear every hardship they encounter, Cross every desert, mountain and river, Face down every enemy, And learn everything they can along their journey.

2.

And in doing so They’ll have acquired a whole new set of skills, More ominous weapons, And more formidably They’ll have become enamored with themselves And honed an aggressive sense of their own superiority.

3.

They’ll also have lost their scent, their color And all their former tribal markings And make themselves believe That they’re better than us And forget that they were even one of us Not so long ago.

174

4.

With all their newly acquired powers And their superior image of themselves They will in time return And assume they’ve earned the right To be our rulers.

5.

And with their new and cunning skills, Their sheer determination, And their sense of righteousness They will succeed and become in fact Our new nobility.

6.

And as for us In our complacency We’ll remain The peasants that we’ve always been.

7.

Yes, these new elite will become our leaders But they’ll also become our burdens Just as we’ll become theirs. *****

175

y We Must Kill To Live!

9-5-2001 We’re not as civilized as we think we are. _____ 1.

It’s always been clear to me That the Life cycle we’re in Is a very brutal one And to prove it to ourselves All we have to do is think about the fact That every day We have to kill to live! − That every day We have to kill some other creature And then eat it! − That every day We have to take another’s life To keep our own!

Need I say anything more?

2.

We socialize and philosophize; We legislate intricate laws and write intellectual books; We study and interpret our sacred scriptures; We master the sciences and the arts; And we compose touching poems About such delicate things as beauty, truth and love All of which are manifestations Of a civilized society.

176

3.

But underneath it all Is the horrible fact That our very survival depends upon our killing.

And when hunger calls We’ll put down our fancy books Fold up our reading glasses Set aside our social graces Bare our teeth And go out and kill!

4.

No matter how we mask things Or call them by different names The things we do are downright savage.

Even the simple and innocent act Of buying a piece of meat at the local supermarket Is nothing less than a contract murder Carried out on our behalf.

We are killers by our very natures And every day In one way or another We have to go out and kill.

5.

Nor can we mask our brutal natures By going to a five star restaurant For just think about what we’re actually doing: We’re sitting down at a table, Tearing off the flesh from the body parts Of a fresh and innocent kill, And devouring it like the animals that we are Guiltlessly and with gusto.

177

6.

Then, to further mask our brutish acts And continue with our charade We gently dab our napkins At the corners of our mouths And with pinkies raised Take a sip of vintage wine And say to our dinner guests, “What excellent cuisine!”

Oh, how we delude ourselves Into thinking that we’re “civilized” When behind it all − Behind that lovely gourmet meal − Was in fact a brutal killing!

7.

With our stomachs full And our mouths wiped clean of blood We go home, Put our reading glasses back on And resume where we left off Not thinking about The underlying brutality That just happened.

8.

Just as any animal does We hunt and kill And kill and kill again All driven by the primitive urge to eat.

That’s the way things are And the way they shall remain.

178

9.

No matter how sophisticated We may think we are We’re just like all the other animals Because just like them We must go out and kill Just to live.

10.

Need I say anything more?

No, I think not, and therefore I will rest my case.

11.

And when the verdict comes in From an impartial jury after our trial We’ll surely be found “Guilty! − Guilty of murder in the first degree!"

And if not guilty of murder in the first degree Then guilty of murder in the second degree − Or at the very minimum − Guilty as accessories, both before and or after the fact. ~ Oh, what a brutal system we are in. *****

179

y It Was Then That I Knew 7-24-2005 You can sense when you’ve lost someone. _____ 1.

When I hurt her and she didn’t cry; When she listened to me but never said a word; When she smiled politely at everything I said; When she didn’t argue anymore − It was then that I knew.

2.

When she accepted all my lame excuses; When she sympathized with all my whining; When she stopped her questioning And didn’t make any more suggestions; It was then that I knew.

3.

When I held her and she didn’t hold me back; When she stared at me without expression; When she was there, but really wasn’t − It was then that I knew.

4.

It was then that I knew that she had left me.

It was then that I knew that I had lost her.

It was then that I knew that she was gone And gone for good. *****

180

y Nature Only Needs You For A While (You’re Just A Hanger-On) 1-8-2006 Our main purpose in life is reproduction after which we serve little other significant purpose. _____ 1.

When you’ve had your children Your job in Nature’s Plan Is virtually done And you’re at the point Where more or less You’re just a “hanger-on.”

2.

Life’s formula is simple: Survive and reproduce.

But after that You have little more purpose in Life And Life has little use for you As you’re just a “hanger-on.”

181

3.

After procreation You no longer have any real utility.

You’re no longer the center of Life’s attention.

After procreation It doesn’t matter to Life If you should live or die.

You’ve played your part.

You’ve fought your way upstream And spawned your eggs So now, Life could care less If you bellied-up and died.

4.

With your most important mission completed Nature classifies you as a retiree And no longer an active employee And puts you out to pasture As a pensioner.

5.

Life’s once-flattering focus on you Is now directed elsewhere.

You’re no longer the center of attention − And sorry to say − You are more or less Expendable.

As far as Life’s concerned You can leave any time you like For it really doesn’t need you anymore For now You’re just a “hanger-on.” ***** 182

y

Or Better Yet… 8-30-2010 Asking for some inner fortitude. _____ 1.

Touch me And I’ll withdraw For there are all too many Tender spots on me.

2.

Look at me And I’ll feel you’re looking down on me Or worse, that somehow You’re maybe even hating me.

3.

No matter how accomplished I become I never feel I’m good enough And that I must do even more To prove myself.

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4.

Don’t tell me that I’m being paranoid For I know the world has little use for me And even less respect.

I also know that in certain ways It’s even out to get me Taking advantage whenever it can − Just because it can − And singling me out As its weakest target And easiest meal.

5.

Will my sky be any color Other than gray?

Will there ever be something That’s not pressing on my heart?

Will I ever find the strength To ignore the world And its crushing disapprovals?

Will I ever find a way To remove the thorn in my paw That makes me limp so bad?

6.

Oh Life Don’t take another bite out of me.

Don’t leave me half chewed up to face the world Even more disfigured and defenseless Than I already am.

Don’t put another leech on me And drain me of what little I have left.

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7.

And Life Please see me as something more Rather than as something less And forgive me for my faults − Or better yet Let me forgive myself.

8.

Oh Life Would you do me a favor?

Would you slap my abusers in their faces And make them come to their senses?

Would you make them realize That they’re all wrong about me − Or better yet Can you give me the courage To tell them myself?

9.

Oh Life Please let the world see me Just once As someone to be admired As opposed to someone Who’s always being frowned upon − Or better yet Allow me To see myself that way.

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10.

Oh Life Please give me the hardened crust I need To protect myself from the pain Of oversensitivity and self-criticism − Or better yet Give me the self-esteem That you’ve given to others But that either by mistake or by design You somehow didn’t give to me.

11.

Please dear Life Give me the peace of mind That comes with true self-confidence And which I’ve had to do without For all my life And that has made me A half-starved skeleton of skin and bone Compared to all the others Who are so well fed.

12.

Oh Life Please be kind and gracious In these my final years with you By giving me as your parting gift A few of these little things That I’ve always wanted.

While it wouldn’t mean so much to you It would mean the world to me. *****

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y A Blank Page And The Open Sea 12-18-2010 The equal apprehension and fear of a new venture. _____ 1.

A writer stares at a blank piece of paper On which he’s about to write And a sailor stares out at the open sea On which he’s about to sail − Each as apprehensive And as frightened as the other.

2.

What dangers lie ahead for them?

How long will they be gone From those they love?

And will they ever return The same way that they left?

3.

What adventures will unfold for them That they’ll proudly boast about?

And what ordeals will they endure That they’ll never want to talk about?

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4.

What rejections will the writer have to bear?

And what fears will the sailor have to fare?

5.

These are the complementary concerns they have And the questions that they ask themselves Before the pen is ever put to paper Or the sail is ever raised.

6.

A blank page and the open sea − One sitting at his desk And the other standing on the dock − Equally apprehensive And equally frightened Of what may lie ahead of them. *****

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y Prisoners Of The Soil And Beggars For The Sun 1-25-2011 The restrictions and limits in life. _____ 1.

Oh these poor, poor trees of ours Who are stuck forever in one location − Unable to change their places or positions And completely dependent On the charity of the sun and soil.

2.

As the sun passes over overhead They try to catch whatever morsels of light they can − Begging if they have to − With their branches reaching out Like beggars’ arms Thankful for whatever they get But so often going to bed hungry And dreaming of a better day tomorrow.

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3.

Oh these poor, poor trees of ours Who can neither hunt, gather or complain − But only be The daily beggar prisoners that they are Until the day they die And who are in many ways In circumstances Not so different from ours. *****

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y Trees (We Both Survived Another Night) 1-30-2011 Kinship with the trees. _____ 1.

Trees From their birth to their death Are confined to one place With their feet bound and buried in the ground Wherein all they can do is accept Whatever alms the soil can afford to give And whatever light the Sun decides to share.

2.

They can’t run from danger Or escape from their harsh surroundings.

Nor can they avoid The threats of weather, insects or disease − Or of man, their most dangerous threat of all.

3.

All they can do is follow the Sun Like a dog follows its master Or the tide follows the moon.

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4.

All they can do is stretch and strain A millimeter or two To gain an ever so slight And more favorable angle to catch the light Which in time will bend and crook their postures And evidence their stress And mark the price they had to pay In homage to the Sun. 5.

In many ways we share a fate Similar to theirs For we too are bound and rooted By our own inherent limits And just as dependent On the mercy of the world for what we need Making us brethren with them In both our conditions and our destinies.

6.

We, like they, Are born into and live within a system Over which we have very little control − Born into a cruel and unemotional system Of life in the beginning Death at the end And fear, sacrifice and suffering In between.

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7.

We are born into a dual system Of peaceful coexistence and predatory fear; A system of survival of the smartest, fittest, and luckiest And death for the dumbest, weakest, and less fortunate; A tandem system of health and sickness; An imbalanced system of smooth and steady predictability Menaced by hard and sudden unpredictability; A system that quickly confirms That we must forever be on our guard.

8.

And as I stand before them here at Dusk Admiring their towering magnificence That symbolizes their tenacity and strength I’m in touch with the Soul I know they have.

9.

And as I stand here with Night approaching I worry for their safety overnight When they will have to stand alone In the sunless and cold dark forest At a time and place Where they will be at their most vulnerable And that will test their inner strength and character To the fullest.

10.

And when the morning comes I’ll anxiously return to check on them And be relieved to see That we both have survived another night. ***** 193

y Starch Up Your Tents (The Queen Is Coming) 2-4-2011 Doing their impoverished best. _____ 1.

Starch up your tents You poor impoverished peasants.

Rise above your fate and your miserable conditions.

Show your courage and resilience And put forth your best appearance For the Queen is coming.

2.

Lay down a mat of twigs and branches Along the muddy village path that she will walk.

Dig a hole and dispose of all your trash and waste And make sure that it’s deep and far enough away So its sight and smell won’t catch her notice.

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3.

Wash your tents and starch them up White and stiff And wet down your dry dirt floors To keep the dust from rising.

Rearrange your furniture And fluff your pillows up So your modest peasant homes Will look their most presentable.

Then light some incense To quiet all offensive odors.

And finally Say a prayer to chase the ghosts away For the Queen is coming.

4.

Go down to the river Where the water flows best And scrub yourselves.

Then beat your clothes against the rocks Until they’re as clean as they can get.

Then gently and evenly Lay them on the bushes So that the sun will dry them With the fewest wrinkles And they’ll make their best impression On the Queen.

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5.

Mind your manners When the Queen arrives.

Show her the respect and pride You have for her And for yourselves.

Show her that You’re trying your very best With the little you have And she’ll make note of it.

6.

For just this one special day Put aside your stress And hide your pain and misery.

Wash the dirt off your faces And don’t let her see you downcast And disheartened.

And don’t speak until you’re spoken to Or she will think That you’re presumptuous And out of place Which might turn her eyes and heart Away from you.

7.

Without staring Look her proudly in the eye And show her your class and dignity.

Give her your deepest country bows And most graceful curtsies And your efforts Won’t go unnoticed.

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8.

Do these things And you’ll have done your best To encourage her sympathy And maybe even gain her favor Which will be your best and only chance For any help from her.

9.

And lastly And maybe most importantly Pray that your Queen is a benevolent Queen With a tender heart That can feel your pain And has a determined will To help your cause In return for all your noble efforts For best presenting yourselves And honoring her As your gracious Queen. *****

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y

It’s Not Easy But I’m Trying (On Retirement) 3-10-2011 Retirement is heavy on me right now. _____ 1.

I’m trying hard To adjust to my retirement And not slip into a slow, low-grade depression.

I’m trying hard to keep myself busy And replace the external motivation That my former job had given me With the motivation That a stimulating avocation might give me During my retirement.

2.

I’m also trying hard To counter the especially heavy weight That’s on my spirit now That comes from knowing That I was involuntarily retired In that my job was eliminated – In a craftily conceived and contrived plot − By someone who used to be my friend no less.

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3.

I’m trying hard Not to think about the dashed hope I had For a more honorable ending to my career − The hope of going out on a high note By retiring on my own And on my own terms.

4.

I’m trying hard Not to get lost or caught in a maze of underbrush By cutting away as best I can The briars and the brambles Of all those moods and broods And endless near-depressions That I so often find myself entangled in.

5.

I’m trying hard Not to fall victim to A death by a thousand little cuts Or a life of a thousand nagging regrets.

6.

I’m trying hard To look forward to a smoother road ahead And to forget about the bumpy road That I’d just come off.

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7.

I’m trying hard To look at my retirement As the beginning of a new life With a new and reborn spirit And not just a stalking And hitch-hiking extension Of the old one. ~ It’s not easy But I’m trying. *****

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y The Dump 3-18-2011 Strange observations at the Dump. _____ 1.

Having worked at the Dump For so many years And seeing all the things that people throw away − And the forensics that are associated with them − I’ve gained a unique insight Into Life And into Death.

2.

Here at the Dump You can learn an awful lot about society And the people in it From what winds up at the Dump.

And if you have the kind of psychic sensitivity that I have For seeing the unseen You can see and learn even more.

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3.

I’ve seen so many things thrown away That still have value And that the needy would just love to have − So many things That could have easily been repaired But weren’t Just because it was cheaper to buy a new one.

I’ve seen working TVs and radios pitched out Just because new technology Had made them slightly obsolete.

I’ve also seen designer clothes discarded Just because they were a little out of style.

4.

Here at the Dump I’ve seen supernatural things too − Upsetting things − Things that have attached themselves To the possessions that have been thrown away Such as the spirits of their past owners Who have refused to let go of the things they used to own And that now Have found their way to the Dump.

5.

All of these disquieting things That only I seem to see Weigh upon my mind.

And despite my best efforts not to I sometimes bring them home with me Which unsettles my evenings And often keeps me awake at night.

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6.

Here at the Dump I’ve seen, In the carriages that are thrown away, The babies who were gently pushed in them.

I’ve seen the owners of discarded family bibles Crying over the callous disregard For their family heirlooms.

I’ve seen the injured and the wounded On the crutches and wheelchairs That have come through here.

I’ve seen torn up poems and love letters And the heartbroken lovers who wrote them.

I’ve seen old worn out sofas and armchairs With the images of their former owners Still seated in them.

And I’ve seen on many an old and stained mattress The ghosts of those Who had suffered and died on them.

7.

Here at the dump I’m sort of a coroner who’s been Shanghaied By this gift or curse of mine And forced to perform autopsies On everything that comes through here.

Here at the Dump I’ve been abducted Into an Afterworld of ghosts − The ghosts of all the former owners of the things That have now found their way to the Dump − An Afterworld that is full of the past But devoid of any future.

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8.

Here at the Dump I see Life and Death braded to each other Which is both a privilege and a burden For I see things That others cannot see And that I sometimes wish I didn’t see.

9.

Here at the Dump I have mixed emotions Both about my job And my special sensitivities In that I sometimes wish That I could simply look away And not see what I see.

But on the other hand I wonder if I truly could resist Its fatal attraction − An attraction comparable To the morbid curiosity that compels us To slow down And gawk at a wreck on the highway.

10.

And in my silent hours When I’m home alone I often wonder if, when I pass away My spirit will remain attached To the things that I used to own When they are thrown away And wind up in the Dump.

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11.

I also can’t help but wonder If there’ll be someone working at the Dump Who’ll be able to see the things that I used to see And therefore possibly see my spirit Attached to all of my old things.

12.

And if there is such a person I wonder if we’ll nod to each other In recognition and mutual respect As brethrens In this mysterious and eerie Afterworld Of ghosts and spirits − A world where nothing seems to die with finality − A world where Life and Death are intertwined And uncomfortably co-exist In a strange communion with each other − In a world that others cannot see. *****

205

y Ready Or Not (Manila) 5-8-2011 Nature initially protects us but then quickly leaves us on our own. _____ 1.

Nature protects us Like a mother bird protects her young But only for a set and programmed period of time After which She’ll leave us to our fledging instincts And inexperience − Ready or not.

2.

Nature has no malicious intent In whatever she does But she also has no conscience either For that’s just the way she is And there’s nothing personal in what she does Including leaving us To either the merciful gods Or to the hungry wolves − Ready or not.

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3.

We are given life And an initial protected start But not for long For all too soon We’re put out on our own − Ready or not.

4.

And even though we survive And our backs harden Into tough protective crusts Our hearts and underbellies Remain vulnerable and tender to the touch For we can never Ease our feelings of abandonment Or replace the security that we once had but lost When we were torn away From the warm breasts of our mothers And left sucking dry and cold And forced to fend for ourselves − Ready or not. *****

207

y Leaky Bottom (Manila) 5-8-2011 Things that come along with age. _____ 1.

What’s this tiny little brown spot In my underwear?

I never saw that before.

2.

And why is it that while I’m walking − Without any warning at all − I sometimes pass a little gas?

3.

And there are also times That I burp out loud In the company of others − What’s with that?

4.

How is it now That I rarely get Any advanced notice of these things − And even if I do − How come I can’t seem to stop them?

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5.

As I advance in age I seem to be regressing And therefore have to ask myself If I’m losing control of my facilities And becoming once again As helpless as a baby.

6.

Sometimes when I walk by a mirror I notice that my hair is all messed up Looking like I forgot to comb it After getting out of bed Which is exactly what happened.

7.

And there’s more As evidenced by the fact That sometimes halfway through a story I realize that I’ve told that story A number of times before.

8.

And there’s another thing I’ve noticed too − That after an impressive introduction To a point I want to make I sometimes Completely lose my train of thought.

9.

I seemed to have entered a new stage in my life Where I’m becoming an old man − The old man That only others used to become.

209

10.

When I was young All these things That used to be one-off things Are now coming With increased regularity And decreased predictability.

11.

As I age I know I can’t prevent the inevitable Or hide the obvious.

Nor can I deny that I’ve changed And become a very different person in many ways Than I was before.

Maybe I can pull the wool over my own eyes About the effects of my aging But I can’t for a minute Do the same with respect to others.

12.

I can’t hide Or be too defensive About my aging and its symptoms For that would be very obvious And therefore wouldn’t work.

Rather, I’ve just got to accept these things As graciously and as good-naturedly as I can.

I’m a “new old me” now Which I not only have to get used to But also Make the best of.

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13.

I can’t resurrect my youth And prop it up As if it were still alive.

I can’t put a dummy on my knee And make it look and act like me when I was young And play ventriloquist and get away with it For I’m sure that everyone Would see my lips moving.

14.

I’ve got to recognize My changed and new position in life.

I’ve got to get from behind the wheel And into the back seat.

I’ve got to get used to being a consultant And not management; The defense attorney Rather than the prosecutor; The frugal saver As opposed to the big spender.

I’ve got to change from the sprinter To the walker; And from the talker To the listener.

I’ve got to recognize and accept All the various changes That come along with age.

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15.

And with my aging I’ve also got to conserve my energy And not blow it all in one burst.

I’ve got to walk Rather than run.

I’ve got to substitute my brain For my brawn; Be the philosopher Rather than the braggart; Be the white-haired gentleman And not the brash young Turk; And the seasoned veteran As opposed to the green recruit.

I’ve also got to transform myself From the hard-charging soldier To the eloquent and thinking diplomat; And further I’ve got to try to mellow as I age Rather than sour Into a grumpy old man.

16.

I’ve got to recognize that I’ve aged And accept along with it The convoy of embarrassing Slips, squeaks and boo-boos that accompany it And just do my best to hide or mask them.

But knowing that that won’t work all the time I’ve got to accept that too and just hope and pray That not too many people notice And are forgiving when they do. ***** 212

y That Slight Hesitation (Beijing, China) 5-11-2011 The weight and responsibility of having a special gift. _____ 1.

As soon as the order was given The soldiers were up and over their trenches, Out from their cover and into the open, And charging through the bullets and mortar shells.

2.

While they all seemed to move At the exact moment the order was given It didn’t happen exactly that way For I saw it All in slow-motion and minute detail And what I saw Was an ever-so-slight hesitation Just before they charged.

3.

What I saw Was a split-second hesitation − The hesitation that herds of animals experience Just before the first one moves And right before the whole herd moves.

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4.

What I saw Was a little pause − That little comma in a sentence − That patch of time that’s required to overcome inertia − That little doubt and second thought – That reconsideration − That slight temptation of disobedience − That tiny transition of time between command and action – That little delay between fear and courage – That primal flash of the instinct for survival.

5.

And as they ran I saw something else as well.

I saw their blood spilling on the ground ahead of them Before it actually spilled.

What I saw Was that split-second peek into the future Just before they were hit.

6.

What I saw Before they were actually hit Were the bullets approaching them In slow motion.

I also felt all the slow-motion tension Of anticipation and fear As I waited for them to make contact.

214

7.

Then I heard the dull thuds of those bullets And saw them as they ripped through their flesh.

And as each soldier was hit They dropped like dead meat − One-by-one and side-by-side − Making death-mask impressions in the mud Which filled with the thick and sticky blood That quickly drained out of them.

8.

I also saw in slow-motion That when they were hit They didn’t fall back With their legs spread out And their arms flying in the air Like you’d see in the movies − Nothing so dramatic and theatrical as that − For what I saw Was their falling Like lifeless and heavy bags of wet cement When their legs stopped running The moment they were hit For in most cases They were dead Before they even hit the ground.

215

9.

All these things I saw In slow motion and minute detail And all before they actually happened But never in enough time to matter For anything − Never in enough time to think about What I could have done to stop them And surely Never in enough time to act on Whatever it was I could have done.

10.

Even though everything happened so fast − And it was highly unlikely That I could have done anything − It was not an excuse That my conscience would accept To mitigate the guilt I heaped upon myself Thinking that I possibly could have Or should have done something.

I couldn’t shake the feeling That I could have done something For why was it That I was picked out to see all these things Just a little bit ahead of time − In that instantaneous flash of time Just before they happened?

216

11.

I tortured over every question That I posed to myself: Why did I have this insight?And what was I supposed to do with it?

I also tortured over a million “if onlys”: If only I had the power to stop time.

If only I had the power To lengthen that initial hesitation in the trenches I might have been able to trip up Time and Fate As they ran towards each other By just enough To have thwarted their projected intersections.

12.

If only I could have Nudged them off their collision courses.

If only I could have Stepped between their deadly rendezvous And prevented the carnage That I foresaw was about to happen.

If only I knew how to use The advanced knowledge I had I might have been able to save those poor young men From their young, ugly, and unnecessary deaths − And me from the guilt and regret That I’ll have to live with For the rest of my life.

217

13.

Why couldn’t I have come up with a plan And prevented the whole thing from happening?

Why couldn’t I have done something When I first saw that slight hesitation?

Why couldn’t I have figured out something to do?

Was that perhaps what God – If He was involved at all − Expected me to do? − To figure out something From all the premonitions He gave me?

Or was He just setting me up in some cruel game Where the stakes were as steep as Life and Death itself?

Are these the kinds of games God plays with us?

14.

Will I ever be able to walk in the sun Or will I always have to slink among the shadows?

Will I ever be able to lift my head up high Or will it always be bowed in guilt?

Will I ever be able to look at anyone Straight in the eye Without blinking?

218

15.

Oh God, if you do in fact exist Please put me in Either your Heaven or your Hell − One or the other − And get me out of this crucifying Limbo Where I’m so racked with doubt As to what I could have Or was supposed to have done And so burdened with the guilt That maybe I could have done something But didn’t. *****

219

y That Skinny Wall-Flower Tree (The Survivor) 12-7-2011 Now a lonely survivor. _____ 1.

Oh you young and healthy tree Standing there bold and proud With your thousands of big and little branches Sticking out like the arms and fingers Of some mythical Hindu god All full with a billion healthy leaves Like the plumage of some strutting peacock.

2.

And look at that skinny and anemic tree Standing there next to you With nothing to flaunt like you have to flaunt − No branches bristling with new shoots − No leaves chattering in the wind But rather, only a barren skeleton like thing − Mute and always in the background Like a shy, reclusive knocked-kneed wallflower Who’ll never be asked to dance Or ever be the center of anyone’s attention And who’ll always have to suffer The taunts and jokes That you and others decide to play on it.

220

3.

But as you play with the Wind So carefree and carelessly − Swaying back and forth And trusting in its innocence − You play with Death For there’ll come a time When the Wind will fold its invisible fingers Around your full and leafy boughs And take you down With a frightening fateful crack and thud That you’ll never see coming.

And that fatal crack and breaking sound That will echo through the forest like a rifle shot Will both announce your violent death And warn the others to beware.

4.

And now That boring, skinny, half-dead wall-flower tree Who never flaunted anything – Who never attracted attention to itself Or played “chicken” with the Wind like you did Remains standing as a survivor − Surprised that it survived But then again Not so surprised at all For it never tempted Fate like you did.

221

5.

But now Even though it has survived It wonders if it’s better or worse off For although it knows that you − Its audacious and boastful neighbor is gone And there’s no need for it to envy you anymore Or to worry about your bullying and belittlements − It also ironically knows That with your demise It’s now alone And more frightened Than ever before. *****

222

y A Conversation At A Gravesite (Better Late Than Never) 12-19-2011 Things he should have said before. _____ 1.

By the time he arrived at the gravesite It was already Dusk And the gloomiest time of the day.

He had tried to get there earlier − While the sun was higher And the air was warmer − But he got caught in traffic.

2.

It was getting dark now And much colder And everything was turning damp and gray Which began to weigh upon his mood.

223

3.

When the evening came And the little light that was left Had almost completely faded away It began to drizzle, making it even colder Which tempted him to turn around And go back home And put his visit off to another day Just like he’d done so many times before.

But no, he had to brave it out this time.

He had see it through.

And besides He was already there.

No, he had to have that conversation − The one that was already So long overdue.

4.

Shaking off the cold And trying to keep his anxiety From all but overwhelming him He stood there With his head bowed down In front of that remnant mound of earth and grass That he knew Would slowly sink away in time.

224

5.

Then, wiping away a salty tear That had chilled upon his cheek He began to speak, “I’m sorry dear, for all I was But more so for all I wasn’t; For all I said But more so for all I didn’t say; And for all the times I didn’t give in to you When I should have; And for never standing up for you When you wanted and needed me to.”

6.

“I know it’s all too little And all too late now − Now that you’re gone But I’m hoping that maybe – Just maybe − You can hear me From wherever you are And that maybe − Just maybe − You’ll forgive me for my failings.”

225

7.

“But even if you can’t hear me Or aren’t listening I have to offer you my apologies anyway Not only because I owe it to you But also because I want to get it off my chest For whatever good it may do For either one, or both of us.

I’m hoping now In this cold, damp, and black night air As the wind bites my face And the icy rain drips down my neck That my belated efforts to reach you Are at least worth a try.”

8.

“Having failed to take advantage Of all the chances I had in the past Here I am now In this cold and open confessional Asking for your forgiveness And in the same breath Asking both the Devil and God To administer whatever punishment They think I deserve.”

226

9.

“I’m trying hard to make myself believe That you can hear me And that I hear your voice Accepting my apologies And that it’s not just me And my over-reaching imagination Putting words in your mouth Or just hearing what I want to hear.”

10.

“I’m trying hard, my dear And hoping beyond hope That you’ll accept my apologies and contrition And find a way to somehow forgive me For all I did But more so For all I didn’t do.

I’m hoping that even though you’re gone And everything I say is so very late in coming That it’s at least worth a try − And better late than never.” *****

227

y

Life And Death − Please Stop Your Fighting 3-21-2001 Pleading with Life and Death to make up their minds. _____ 1.

To Death: “Oh Death, I know you have your eye on me And want me badly.

But that’s OK, because you can’t scare me like before For I’m not afraid of dying like I used to be − In fact, I’m resolved to it So go ahead and take me if you like.”

2.

To Life: “And dear Life, I know you want me too And have done a great job In protecting me for all these years And especially for keeping Death at bay For as long as you have, in these my final hours.

And, while I appreciate all you’ve done And would of course like to live as long as I can, There’s really no need for you to put in Any extraordinary effort If there’s little benefit to gain.”

228

3.

To Both: “But that being said Please dear Life and Death You’ve got to come to some mutual agreement And not keep holding me hostage With your constant bickering.

You must agree between yourselves Which one of you will have me And settle your tug of war Once and for all.

You’ve got to decide who will give in − One or the other?”

4.

To Both: “Oh Life and Death I ask you kindly to stop your fighting And tugging on my limbs in opposite directions For honestly I can go either way.

So one of you please Draw the winning straw And break the tie and take me − One or the other!” *****

229

y

The Memory Of A Cold Winter’s Night 10-31-1998 Remembering his last chance for a doomed love. _____ 1.

He often thinks of her On that very cold Winter’s night When he was staring out of the window Of the little room they took Looking over a field of snow With the moonlight Painted on its glazed and frozen crust.

2.

His breath was fogging up the window As he stared out empty-eyed and expressionless For lack of any hope for them.

3.

He had a hurting in his heart That he had always felt with her Knowing that they’d always be in love But sadly never be together.

230

4.

The darkness and the weight of knowing That soon she would be gone Raced in all directions in his heart.

Over and over he asked himself, “How could he make things different?

What could he do to make things work?�

But nothing came to him For he was running in that same old circle And now, with only this night left to him He was also running out of time.

5.

Every desperate thought he had Became the entrance To an all-too-familiar maze That just lead to another dead-end.

And with every thought he had Came another heartbreak.

6.

And when he turned and looked at Hope For some encouragement He had to turn away For he could see That she had nothing to offer him And that everything Was about to end for them that night.

231

7.

He remembered everything About that night − Both sad and beautiful.

For that was the night That the deepest love he’d ever known Had wrapped itself around his breaking heart And wouldn’t let go.

8.

Everything about that night Was all so sad and hopeless And a painful lesson In what life and hopeless love Was all about.

9.

That’s how things were On that most beautiful Yet saddest night of all And that’s how they remained And where he learned That love and heartbreak Always come together. *****

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y Shrinking Circles (On Retirement) 7-26-2011 Watching for a possible dangerous trend in retirement. _____ 1.

Now that I’m retired And no longer forced to deal with the outside world As much as I used to I’m feeling The gravitational pull of my personality Drawing me more inward into myself And feeling my natural inclinations To stay more to myself.

2.

I’m also finding That my biosphere has shrunken To a circle of only a few miles Within and around my town − And even that circle is shrinking To an even smaller circle Centered around my house and grounds.

My circle of people contacts has shrunken as well Composed primarily now Of only my immediate family and relatives.

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3.

And as I look more closely I can see that my circle of interests has also shrunk And is now more centered on my writings.

And further And totally consistent with this trend I find that the subjects of my writings Are becoming increasingly introspective Dealing more and more with the workings Of my own heart, mind and psyche.

4.

I’ve got to be careful of this gravitational trend And make sure it doesn’t collapse In and upon itself Possibly causing me to become A kind of human black hole With gravity so intense That nothing can escape it And where I might either explode or implode And completely disappear.

234

5.

Is my going deeper into myself A symptom Of my withdrawing from the world And a way of escaping All its problems and unpleasantries?

If it is I must be very cautious About trying so hard to escape From the problems of The outside world That I get myself entangled in The possibly more ominous problems of The inside world That I may find inside of me.

6.

Since I’ve always had introspective tendencies My retirement may be an accelerant to them And increase my chances of falling into Some kind of an internal Black Hole At the center of my Being.

235

7.

With my retirement And my shrinking circle of interests Have I begun looking through The opposite end of a telescope?

Have I possibly traded my telescope For a microscope With myself as the specimen on its slide?

Have I put myself under a lens That will concentrate the sun’s rays and burn me up?

Have I shifted the fulcrum of the lever That will put even more weight on me?

Have I left myself even more vulnerable Than I ever was before?

8.

Am I descending so deep into myself That I may find some Black Soul That I never thought I had?

Am I becoming so selective That I’m stripping myself Of all the beneficial counter-balances That the outside world Had unwittingly provided me?

Am I becoming so myopic That I’m losing my peripheral vision?

Am I becoming even more of a loner Than I was before? − Or even worse Am I becoming a recluse of some sort?

236

9.

While I’m not sure If this trend is real or perceived, Good or bad, Permanent or temporary I do know That I’d better watch it closely To make sure it stays More healthy than unhealthy, More positive than negative, And more productive than unproductive.

10.

I have to watch as well That I don’t get too close To that dangerous tipping point Wherein I won’t be able to right myself.

I’ve also got to watch That I don’t go too far Into the Deep Dark Woods Of my fragile Psyche Or if I do That I mark my trail well enough To not only be able to find my way back But to get back before Nightfall.

237

11.

So I’ve got to be very cautious and watchful As to how all these tendencies and trends progress And what direction they take So that if they do turn negative and detrimental I can catch myself in time Before it’s all too late for any stopping And for any turning back. *****

238

y Not So Distant Lay A Fear 7-1-1963 Hoping a new breath of self-confidence might be a lasting one.

(The modified rhyme scheme is similar to that of “The Chambered Nautilus” by Oliver Wendell Holmes.) _____ 1.

Not so distant in the Past lay a heavy Fear So strong that it could almost sheer My very heart apart and stop its beating And deprive it of whatever hope it had, however fleeting.

But thankfully its painful control of me has lately been retreating.

But even though it’s weakened, it still claims My freedom and keeps me shackled in its chains.

2.

How well do I recall my past oppressions − Those deep and feared obsessions That plagued my struggling soul And foiled whatever chances I had for any peaceful hold On life. “Why”, I ask myself, “Why can’t my will muster up something bold Enough to fight it and throw off these heavy chains?

Why can’t I extract this viper’s venom from my veins?”

239

3.

My mind would crush any favorable thought I ever had of me By bringing up most pointedly All my weaknesses and sensitivities From the dark sunless pits and cavities Within me, where all my real and imagined fears and proclivities Would conspire to make cruel and self-critical comparisons Where I’d lose every comparison I made to anyone and everyone.

4.

Self-confidence was my Achilles heel And made me feel That everyone else was so much better Than me, and that I was the outcast and consummate regretter − Regretting everything I did for I could see no better Of myself, and discounted all my positive attributes down to nil For I’ve always had a yawning emptiness in me that I needed to fill.

5.

My heart and mind were always presenting damning appearances And creating pessimistic interferences Against any hope that might be up ahead for me.

I was always a little depressed, for little comfort in life did I see.

Sometimes I didn’t even want to raise my eyes, for so frequently I’d be confronted with someone’s disapproving glare Or someone’s hard intrusive stare.

240

6.

My eyes always had in them a kind of guilty look.

I felt that I was just a vulnerable open book That seemed to invite all those tempered lances And all those long, deep, and exaggerated glances That in turn thwarted all my chances For any peace of mind and would forever put me at a loss to know Just who I was and which direction I should go.

7.

But this day – Today – I have somewhat arisen From my sullen prison And quaffed a rare and seldom respite that I now own.

Now, after so many depressions, do I finally hear a tone That’s telling me that I can stand up straight and alone?

8.

Am I finally finding Freedom from my bindings And from the hex of my poor Past? *****

241

y Charity (Against All Odds) 1-21-2001 Charity defies the odds in staying alive. _____ 1.

Charity: It’s an aberration − It’s a weakness − It’s a flaw in our design That redeems us From our instinctively selfish natures.

2.

It’s a tiny boat in a raging sea But that somehow Manages to stay afloat.

3.

It’s a tiny little lamp In a cold and windy night That just won’t go out.

4.

It’s like a marauding ghost Appearing here And then appearing there.

242

5.

Charity: Even though it’s only a tiny fragile thing And pitted against a hard and ominous world It somehow has the strength to stay alive.

And just when you think it’s dead And despite the odds It surprisingly Takes another gasp of breath.

6.

Oh Charity You are that resilient little thing That gives us our little bit of nobility.

Oh Charity What would we do without you? *****

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f Information About Certain Subjects Preface: The following information is about some of the subjects of my poems that are in this and other volumes for reference purposes and to help put them into better context. Some of this and other information may also be in the poems themselves.

Sharon Gagliardo: Sharon was my first love. She was a beautiful girl of Italian and Norwegian decent who lived in a 5 story walk-up apartment in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn where I lived.

Judy Theobald: Judy lived on East 42nd Street in Brooklyn, the same street that I lived on but a few blocks away. She had a crush on me but we never officially became girlfriend and boyfriend.

Esther Theobald: Esther was Judy’s mother. When I’d come over to visit Judy I’d often wind up discussing religion, philosophy, music and other subjects with Esther in her small dim-lit kitchen.

Nancy Salomons: Nancy lived two doors down from me on East 42nd Street. We were somewhat boyfriend and girlfriend.

Maureen Morrissey: Maureen was a girl from the neighborhood who my sister Christine introduced me to and who I dated once or twice. She was very pretty but a little distant and not so warm.

Al Capone: Al, not the gangster, was an older neighbor of mine who lived 2 doors down from me in Brooklyn. We struck up a friendship and enjoyed talking about such topics as philosophy, poetry and music. We’d often listen to operatic arias on his scratchy 78 rpm records from which I acquired an appreciation for opera. One time

when I asked him if he’d be a reference for a gun permit I was applying for he declined telling me that he had a police record. I knew there was a story behind that but didn’t ask.

Helen Conigliaro: Helen lived across the alley from me. She was married to a Sicilian who worked in a Mafia might club (“The Airport”) at the far end of Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn and had 4 kids. When I was 16 and she was 34 we started a very dangerous affair.

Gwen Ho: My sister Enid introduced me to Gwen who she’d met at secretarial school in Brooklyn. Gwen was Chinese and my first date with an Asian girl after which I favored Asian women. She was a very sweet girl and a devoted Catholic who came from a prominent family in Trinidad, West Indies. After secretarial school she went back to Trinidad and sometime after that I joined the navy. She wrote to me almost every day. She was a wonderful girl but I just couldn’t settle on marrying her as there was just something missing.

Ultimately she married an Englishman.

Pamela Ho: Pamela was Gwen’s older sister. She was an airline stewardess and whenever she flew into New York she stayed at the Hotel Lexington in Manhattan where we had a number of steamy rendezvous. If Gwen ever knew about our affair she never confronted me about it.

Carol Lee Johnson: Carol was a beautiful blond-haired blue-eyed girl who I met when I was stationed aboard the USS Loeser (DE 680) in the Washington Navy Yard in Washington DC. She was very lady like, mature and proper – a real Southern Belle. She never really took to me as I believe she saw me as just a Navy guy and or just a guy from Brooklyn that wasn’t in her class.

Jane Blum: Jane was another girl I met in Washington. She was a nice girl but so reserved that our relationship never developed.

Barbara Jane Moran (“BJ”): BJ was a beautiful and sensuous Polynesian who I met in Honolulu when stationed aboard the USS McMorris (DE 1036) in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. She used to write me erotic letters when I was out at sea. At one point she claimed to be pregnant and threatened to go to the captain of my ship. Not believing that she was, I took a chance and called her bluff.

Bich-Thuy Chung: I met Thuy when I was stationed on the McMorris in Pearl Harbor. She was an artist who came from a prominent family in Vietnam. Her father was an executive with Air Vietnam. She was attending the University of Hawaii in part to get away from the war that was raging in her country. She was unlike anyone I had ever met before and who had the most profound effect on me. She was petite, feminine, innocent and exotic and I was completely captivated by her. Unfortunately, she was very naïve and idealistic with an almost childlike and fairy tale view of life and love which didn’t make for any kind of stable relationship. I tried many times to make things work but it was impossible. When my tour in the navy was up I sadly had to leave her in Honolulu.

Diane Golunski: Diane was a very nice girl who I met right after I got out of the navy. Her parents were Polish and I had a good rapport with them and whenever we went on a date I was required to have a few drinks with her truck driver father before we left. She lived in an old Brownstone house in the Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn. I thought about marrying her but was uncertain.

Stella Lahoz: Stella was a Filipino nurse who I met at a party in Queens, New York shortly after I had gotten out of the navy. She lived with a roommate on East 22nd Street in New York City. We were very compatible and felt very comfortable as a couple.

I once visited her in the Philippines but had a confrontation with her father and had to slip out of the country in the middle of the night to avoid any further escalation. Stella and I made off-and-on marriage plans but I felt that I wasn’t ready for that kind of a commitment yet.

After we broke up she moved to Minneapolis for a fresh start.

Pei Pei Lin: Pei Pei was a shop girl by day and call girl by night who I met in a club in Taipei on a trip to Asia in 1969.

Letty Gonzales: Letty was a Filipino nurse who worked for New York Presbyterian Hospital in the Washington Heights section of New York City. I used to meet her at 11:30 pm when she got off her shift. While I liked her and she liked me she gave me the unsettling feeling that she could either take or leave our relationship. Even though she never said anything like that I was unsure of where she stood. She later moved to California.

Violeta (Vi) Paniza: I went on a blind date with a Filipino girl and, as was the custom with Filipinos, a number of other girls came along.

Vi was one of the other girls and I was more attracted to her than to my date as she had a special quality about her. Vi was one of 7 children who lived on the family farm in rural Philippines and who, after graduating from nursing school in a nearby city, immigrated to the US. After one aborted wedding attempt, and a period of time I lived in Brazil, we married. Since we met we’ve been together for a total of over 40 years.

Layla: Layla was Leandra’s friend who was murdered in the stairwell of the Hilton Hotel in Stamford, CT by her ex-boyfriend.

Joe Zuccalla: Joe was a friend and client of mine who was killed in the 911 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center on 9-11-2001. He was also a co-worker of mine at Peat Marwick.

Tom Carroll: When I was a manager in the New York Office of the public accounting firm of Peat Marwick Mitchell, Tom transferred in as a partner from the Hartford Connecticut Office. He was super confident, charismatic, handsome, an impeccable dresser with real board-room presence. He was also sometimes arrogant and belittling.

We hit it off and became close friends. He helped me become partner but I first had to make the sacrifice of going to Brazil and being a Brazilian partner for 4 years. Soon after my return to the States and becoming a US partner, there was a cut-back and I was let go but we

kept in contact. Sometime after he left Peat Marwick he went to Bankers Trust where I joined him for a brief period of time before that firm was acquired by another company. Later I joined him at Prudential Insurance in Newark, New Jersey where I worked for him for 12 years which involved commuting 5 ½ hours a day.

Unfortunately we had a falling out and I was forced to retire. A few years later he died of cancer at the age of 72.

Stephanie Powers: Stephanie was the actress girlfriend of Tom Carroll who starred with Robert Wagner in the TV series “Hart to Hart” where they played a private eye husband and wife team.

Colm Keogh, Lisa Hobson, Khalilah Fullman, Kristi Madison and Mike Dennis: These were co-workers or subordinates of mine at Prudential. *****

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