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 

 

Keep Your Distance

 

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

 

         Keep Your Distance

It is the distance that creates the reality

we are able to construct in memory

Distance conjures the details

we did not sense at the time

The soul paints what eyes had failed to see

and hears the song from the fear and anguish

Tastes of bitterness become tart then sweet

Once a cause to spit now to savor and swallow

The cold and heat of our nakedness

now insulated by distance 

My fingers gnarl

 

May 6, 2020 (I was 75)

 

My fingers gnarl

I can't let go

I cannot grasp

Pain of surprise

makes a sharp point

in joint of knuckle

that won't unbuckle

a sudden fear to comprehend

an end is near

I shudder to see a twisted digit

turned on me

With panicked haste

I pop it back in place

massage to soothe the knot

and the message of the thought

We did not say let's not talk about it

 

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

 

We did not say let's not talk about it

but that's what we did

and right out in the open is where we hid

 

We are saved by unconsidered decisions

resolved a lifetime ago

wandering alone at night in falling snow

 

Recognizing the incomprehensible is a skill

You don't know you have a clue

then out of the silent frozen darkness you do

 

Each the curator of a private gallery

a mutual concession

to trust one's individual discretion

 

I've ever had a need for solitary visits

choosing pathways to frequent

where I can come to a kind of agreement

 

Togetherness is a recognition of separation

both disclaimer and claim

that fact of difference makes us the same

Children of Keewatin the North Wind

 

from this week in May 2020  (I was 75)

 

Children of Keewatin the North Wind

whose seeds were snowflakes

planted in his winter migration

south from his Arctic realm

 

Keewatin whistled their birth through the pine

whistled their birth out of the mine

blew the blast across town in its roar

to sound the emergence of valuable

Oh exclamatory verse you failed to hide

 

May 19, 2020  (I was 75)

 

Oh exclamatory verse you failed to hide

a heart worn on a tattered sleeve

never a thing to be kept inside

so apparent it may yet deceive

 

With alas and gasp doth thee emote

I feel the rope around my throat

Sadly woe is me quote unquote

I'm breathless I guess this is all she wrote

The translated poem is obvious

 

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

 

The translated poem is obvious

ly two poems side-by-side

poet side foreigner side

by themselves not by itself

trying to be understood and understanding

a sound working or not

working around a meaning or two

meanings working to

be one in the same

Most who know know one or the other

very rarely both to compare

and be forced to choose between twins

one born much later than the other

each favoring a different parent

Leif Jorgensen told me a joke

 

April 3, 2020  (I was 75)

 

Leif Jorgensen told me a joke

when we were twelve to define

droll humor: Two Englismen converse

One says I say old chap

I hear they are burying your brother today

The other replies Yes, dead you know

If for no other reason

Leif still lives in my heart today.

One keeps pace

 

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

 

One keeps pace

in increasingly

smaller space

The enormity of youth

fills the entirety

of its perception

What it cannot comprehend

it will surmise to satisfaction

relegate the unknown

to the unnecessary

Later holdings are more precious

revealing nuance of introspection

off surfaces cast in different light

facets aglow beside the flash

deeper shades of recognition

requiring less space to occupy

more time

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  

Keep Your Distance

 

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

 

         Keep Your Distance

It is the distance that creates the reality

we are able to construct in memory

Distance conjures the details

we did not sense at the time

The soul paints what eyes had failed to see

and hears the song from the fear and anguish

Tastes of bitterness become tart then sweet

Once a cause to spit now to savor and swallow

The cold and heat of our nakedness

now insulated by distance  

There is always a road we've not been on

 

from this week of January, 2020  (I was 75)

 

There is always a road we've not been on

just off the route we travel daily

A byway like a gravel trail we never took

until today showed its need

Not quite sure exactly where it goes

but we've been before

familiar with the unfamiliar

bumped through mud ruts

and chained across snow and ice

Afterwards snickered at our ignorant luck

to learn enough on the fly

to give another strange path a try

a different direction to get unstuck

or if needed to call a truck   

There is always a road we've not been on

 

from this week of January, 2020  (I was 75)

 

There is always a road we've not been on

just off the route we travel daily

A byway like a gravel trail we never took

until today showed its need

Not quite sure exactly where it goes

but we've been before

familiar with the unfamiliar

bumped through mud ruts

and chained across snow and ice

Afterwards snickered at our ignorant luck

to learn enough on the fly

to give another strange path a try

a different direction to get unstuck

or if needed to call a truck