WHAT DOES NOT DISTURB

CROP OakAlley Plantat Louisiana

We make out of the quarrel with others rhetoric but the quarrel with ourselves – poetry     ~      Yeats

 

The hungry brat-god

    Squatting over a world

   Pushes his toy soldiers off to war

    After his milk and cookies

What would happen if

    The woman in his life

    Told the truth?

There are no Kings

    No Queens

    No rulers in the forest

    No language

    No plan

    No god

    Just nature

And its vaguely menacing

    March of days

    Blooming seasons in line

    With our attraction to ruin

 

LOVE IN SPRING

pond in spring copy

 

Urgency is consumed

By beauty

    Nature dressing

    Slowly leafing

   Nether parts

Forcing the urgent

   Lover to work

    Peeling her petals

    For nectar

That which

   Keeps the world

   On its axis

    Even as he is still,

    Cradled

    In her arms

    Face up

   Under downy-warm skies

 He dreams

    Youth tangled in nights

    And limbs

 Images

Impossible to share

Who will understand

    In light of fear?

 Consider:

 The world is no more

    A fearful place

    Than before

 Rather:

     We have grown

    More fearful.

Still he dreams

     Fearless

Nature laughs

Slipping into something

    More comfortable

    The mornings after

                                                                                                                                                                   G. Davis-Feldman 6/1/2014

Eugene Feldman: 1921 – 2014

Dad at dinner closeMy father-in-law

 Lucidity – blinking and broken

Has declared his life a night

A forgotten dimension

So fast

Where did it go?

92 years inside

The forest of human travel

Following the script

Of human hand

The hand that sent him to war

To love

To fatherhood

To the hearts of those

Who would wash his sluggish body

Wrinkled, tissue depleted

Immobilized by an angry destiny

And landscapes of untold design

And still he wondered why?

As the answer awaited at the forest’s rim

Where the path – well- trodden

Called – he is moving there now

Beyond that forest

To the open sky-filled field

Where the flowers will wildly bloom

In the spring of his step

Steps – light and inoffensive – like him

A child in this fractal world

Enfolding unto himself

Even as Nature reclaims him

Her son

Guiding him on that path

Swaddled in linen

Looking ahead in painless

Expectation

TERRIBLE GOODNESS

cropped-fireworks1.jpg

We legislate our terrible goodness

As if nature didn’t exist

As if she will not open her great maw of

Poetic justice and suck in her

Poisoned air

   As if she will forever

Keep mighty trees propping up

The stars that have died eons ago

  As if she will forever allow

Freedom to be

The barometer of a civilization

   We have failed in our charge

Blind to the vision of bleached and

Scattered bones of an

Earth free to be

Legislated to death

    The bomb in the baby carriage

Tells us

We should all be enslaved

By limitation

    There should be no freedom

To be evil

To the earth  – or

To each other