Posts Tagged ‘ birth ’

Rough Ideas: June 2016 Archives

Throwing Away the Alarm Clock

my father always said, “early to bed and
early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise.”
it was lights out at 8 p.m. in our house
and we were up at dawn to the smell of
coffee, frying bacon and scrambled
my father followed this general routine
for a lifetime and died young, broke,
and, I think, not too
taking note, I rejected his advice and it
became, for me, late to bed and late
to rise.
now, I’m not saying that I’ve conquered
the world but I’ve avoided
numberless early traffic jams, bypassed some
common pitfalls
and have met some strange, wonderful
one of who
myself-someone my father

– Charles Bukowski

Source: Rough Ideas: June 2016 Archives

Suzanne Gardinier’s “Gapped Sonnet”

Gapped Sonnet

Suzanne Gardinier1961

Between the blinds Past the coded locks
Past the slanted gold bars of the day
Smelling of all-night salt rain on the docks
Of grief Of birth Of bergamot Of May

In the wind that lifts the harbor litter
Wet against my fingers in a dream
Salvaging among the tideline’s bitter
gleanings Generous Exigent Lush and lean

Your voice A tune I thought I had forgotten
The taste of cold July brook on my tongue
A fire built on thick ice in the winter
The place where lost and salvaged meet and fit
The cadences a class in grief is taught in
The sound when frozen rivers start to run

Copyright © 2013 by Suzanne Gardinier. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on March 4, 2013.

Ikkyū ~ / A Longhouse Birdhouse

before birth after birth

that’s where you are now

A Longhouse Birdhouse.

Martin Luther King, Jr

Martin Luther King, Jr photographs

“I refuse to accept the view . . . that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.” – Martin Luther King Jr

One morning in Hartford, Connecticut, my mother and I heard the car radio announcement that King had been killed in Memphis. She was driving me to school on her way to work. Mid-morning, the principal of my inter-racial school urged us to go home. My girlfriend and I wandered into a service being held in his honor at the nearby Saint Joseph Cathedral. It felt like g-d had died that day. ~ DF

Mottled Fissure, a film by CAConrad