Suffer the little children…

I’ve just watched something currently available on Amazon Prime:THE WINDERMERE CHILDREN, and its companion documentary : THE WINDERMERE CHILDREN: IN THEIR OWN WORDS. The first is a dramatized account, the second is a documentary produced around the elderly survivors of the Nazi camps, who shared the Windermere experience. In 1945, 300 children and youths who …

MID SUMMER DREAMING

I have and remember the best dreams that come just before waking.  This morning, I dreamed of planting a spiralling grove of ginkgo trees… starting at the center and spiralling outwards, adding a new sapling every year. I got to thinking how far apart they should go to have room to grow, though eventually, to …

STAY ANGRY

Stay angry! Not riotously, weeping, screaming hate angry–but soul-cleansing angry:Keep burning with the inner fires that burn away the blockages and incursions into your soul that living in these Dysfunctional States of America have enabled. Stay angry, stay determined, stay encouraged! Keep insisting that what we have gotten used to as ‘normal’ is actually mortal …

Death of The Myth

What’s happening in the US these days is the breakdown of the body of American myths– about where we came from, how we made our lives here, what we did and didn’t do to form this nation. Truth finally is being revealed and acknowledged. Some have always known these truths, but most of America, brought …

The Cleansing Storm

 Change comes slowly, sometimes takes a couple of generations for a society to let go of an old and obsolete tradition. It takes time to get it that what was once a solution has become a problem. The stream of time flows placidly because we like it that way, undisturbed and undisturbing. But sometimes a …

A SUMMER AFTERNOON

Heavy as hot wet flannel, every breath…I hate to sit or move againstthis August afternoon.Sticky-damp, clothes cling,a drag against ambition. Birds, lethargic, dull,sing only if they must,fly ghostlike if at all through dusty drooping trees.Cicadas ratchet on and on–maddeningly constant;mosquitoes whineor strike unheard, the devils! Roses overblown and bright,relishing this tropic season,exude aromas heavy and too sweet.I …

It has never been about “race.”

It doesn’t take a degree in anthropology–which I have–nor a lifelong love of words and the precision of words, which I also have–to make the case that we are all ONE RACE, that there are not multiple races of mankind. The word is used because it has always been used, but it has always been …

THE MAGIC HOUR a sonnet of art and age

Stare not at the Sun, we’re oft reminded,But in the Magic Hour, as the Poets tellEyes can gaze and be not blinded–The day’s work’s done, for good or ill. The Farmer comes home from the field,The Baker from the baking;The Vintner casks the final yield,The Maker ceases making… The Magic Hour, the Artist cherishes–The Hour …

CALIFORNIA SUMMER

I lived three summers, age3 to nearly 6, in northern California. This is how I remember it. Summer heat–sweet reliefin darkened hallbeneath the fan,the rumbling wind,the stormthat blew the coolall through the house…I’d catch a chill and die,they claimed.Disbelieving,driven out to play,I’d waitanother chance… Summer feet–freed from socks and kedsnot alwayssufficiently awareof bees among the …