How did grammatical aspects come to be

 

February 23, 2018  (I was 73)

 

How did grammatical aspects come to be

so long and effectively unbeknownst to me

Perfective verbs express completion of action

and of course the imperfective verbs…

express the incompletion of an action

or the completion of an inaction

In iterative I reiterate the repetitive

continuous action signified by the single act

Frequentatives are habitual actions I inhabit

Desiring to be desiderative

one verb derives from another

indicating my wish to perform the action

expressed in the original verb

which I so often do

The sights are so easily lost

 

February 22, 2009  (I was 64)

 

The sights are so easily lost

the eternity of the universe

disappears in the details of days

less than a week in the man-made world

diminishes the being of world-made man

         walk in the dirt and on leaves under trees

         breathe in wind blown miles to your lungs

         acknowledge the calls of birds

position the web of the spider

between the eye and the sky

The sight of then and that of when

transports thou out of now

the this of this to the wish of that

reading the log or plotting a course

when you could be navigating

Postcards from Hell

 

February 21, 2014  (I was 69)

 

Postcards from Hell

You never know exactly where you are

A lot of mirrors and in each a different appearance

yet every one a recognizable reflection

 

Went to the portrait gallery

Nothing but mug shots

 

There is a distinction made between

those here for what they did

and those here for what they thought

but no difference is made by that distinction

 

We hear Oh go to Hell

is a favorite expression among the angels

 

Sometimes letters get through from above

mostly looking for drugs and alcohol

 

Finally saw some blue devils

They used to be Eskimos

 

Darwin used to be here

but he evolved

 

Things can get out if you can find the border

Thing is there are no definable borders

 

Screw up here

and you’re born again

  

Here we know

we all shared all guilt

a knowledge of which

those in heaven are ignorant

Roethke wrote

 

From this week in February 2012  (I was 67) 

 

Roethke wrote

  great first lines

    but like a fiddle

      he put it in the middle

    good place for that sound

  if first can be found

 

First lines I intend to steal as he is not looking:  

-I know it’s an owl.  He’s making it darker.

-A sneeze can’t sleep

-scratched the wind with a stick / the leaves liked it

-when you plant, spit in the pot 

-A pick likes to hit ice

-who stands in a hole never spills

 

Every decision to read something

 

from this week in February 2008  (I was 63)

 

Every decision to read something

is a decision not to read something else

It is what makes books a wonder

or such a waste of time

what makes short stories or essays

economical investments

and some poems polished stones

 

Some readers are sprinters

words and phrases no more than cinders underfoot

ideas finish tapes to be broken through

records smashed into generalization

They think the author’s nuance

is their own deduction

Elementary my dear Watson a veritable primer

Some words sound better than they mean:

 

from this week in February 2018  (I was 73)

 

Some words sound better than they mean:

 

Disdain is sworn to scorn but falls gentle as rain

Rebuff merely needs a hyphen to provide a slight polish

The music of odium too lovely to be malevolent

Taking umbrage might be carrying too much luggage

Antipathy a balletic step backward in courtesy

Maniacal a Broadway hit with dancing mannequins 

How did grammatical aspects come to be

 

February 17, 2018  (I was 73)

 

It’s a passageway like a tunnel through a mountain

as on highway 50 when you break through

the darkness within the granite to the light

blue and the spectacle of Yosemite Valley

around you and below you welcoming your descent

beside falling water under bright sun

through bracing air to settle and walk

the floor of the earth connected again 

The boring through that stone night

is a mediation a liaison a brush with the eternal

juxtaposed with the brilliant fleeting relevance to come

The squeaky wheel:

 

February 16, 2014  (I was 69)

 

The squeaky wheel:

a)    is a CFO

b)    eventually grinds to a halt

c)    ran over a mouse

d)    is a bar

A leopard cannot change:

a)    a flat

b)    the actions of an ant

c)    into a leotard

d)    but it sure can run

The bigger they are:

         a)  the looser the fit

b)    the more likely to be named Goliath

c)    the fewer to the barrel

d)    the smaller we seem

If you don’t like the way the table is set:

a)    set it yourself

b)    fire the maid (in Spanish)

c)    eat in the living room

d)    overturn the table

It is the imp in the bottle the embrace of leprosy

 

from this week in February 2013  (I was 68)

 

It is the imp in the bottle the embrace of leprosy

Empathy is to fade upon seeing the faded

an ability to hear the words of the dumb

It is to choke on the gasps of the dying

to smell the funeral in a bouquet of flowers

to taste the taint of mother’s milk gone sour

the regret in the burning of a flag

to disintegrate in the corruption of an idea

Obviously empathy goes a bit too far for me

Lent, Gas Line

 

from this week in February, 1974  (I was 29)

 

  During Lent, Gas Line

 

I’ve exhausted my supply

my energy’s been drained

my engine stands cold

there’s no gas in the tank

a procession of autos

kneels at each station

Supplication

 

It doesn’t surprise me

 

February 6, 2011  (I was 66) 

 

It doesn’t surprise me

     you were the one to become a soldier

and there are a dozen more

     my mind would place in uniform

You never expressed the wish nor willingness

     but I would have guessed you sensed aroma

in the stench of heroism and duty

     Now you’ve lived long enough to taste the rust

from the rotten iron of irony

 

I understand the choices were few

     for all of us in the cold

We took hold of the life lies in front of us

     pulled and were pulled in return

Some got the short string

     others tangled in the knots

A few untied a packaged gift

     they assumed they deserved from birth

with that bow around their little finger

There was this guy who had a card table

 

February 5, 1970  (I was 25)

 

There was this guy who had a card table

set up in the mall of a shopping center.  He had a cardboard

box with some kittens in it.  A marking pen sign said

FREE KITTEN –If you promise to give it a good home.

Another guy with a little girl asked about a kitten.  The

first guy asked if he gave his word of honor to give the

kitten a good home, so the other guy says, yes.  Well the

first guy just holds the kitten and says, “Say it.”  The second

guy turns red.  Then he smiles and says, “I give you my

word of honor, the kitten will have a good home.  He took

the kitten and kept on smiling as he left with the little girl

holding his hand.

 

The Doubt of the Benefit

 

February 4, 2014  (I was 69)

 

         The Doubt of the Benefit

Sometimes you just put one in for the system

You spend the entire day mopping up

The only other people I see mop just as much as me

It aint no thrill to find I’m the one caused the spill

Understand I do it in belief I affect the system

or in the same way I still pray long after

I quit believing in religion 

Harder to do each day

Each day the system has another way to explain

the role of those who serve the system

out of love out of duty out of belief they are valued

not only for their ability to mop but for their knowledge

of where exactly to mop on any given day

 

Not so much in the doing

 

from this week in February 2012  (I was 67)

 

Not so much in the doing

as in the having done

nor in the making compared

to having made the grade

Between the conception and accomplishment

lie the discouraging details

assumed as debt to establish the worth

The art within the finished product

Every tender sparrow…+

 

from this week in February 1975  (I was 30) 

 

   Every tender sparrow…

those final flutterings

where hopes are denied

dreams resolved

 

the day is brightest

the air is clear

the stone will not fly

 

it wants the soft earth

the warm sun

the seed left in the clay

             *

 

The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is small

Hell my Uncle Nick could have painted it

It would then of course be entirely green

and up close smell of alcohol

What became of the social contract

 

from this week in February, 2020 (I was 75)

 

What became of the social contract

I remember when I first came to live here

in the fall of 1966 When all was so new for us

driving the Nimitz freeway to the Bay Bridge

when the traffic moved both fast and smooth

in time to the music on the radio

Cars signaling changing lanes even trucks

in mutual trust and respect for right of way

It inspired confidence in the grandeur

of civic behavior and cooperative effort

to attentively assure we all got to our destinations

in that alluring city on the Hill above the blue and windy sea   

Moving smoothly through the tunnel of Treasure Island

to emerge into the loveliness of accessible possibility

Just another manifesto now lost to the worm of cynicism

and recalled only in fictional idealism of old lyrics