The Gates

The gates have been closed -
I cannot see them but they stand
fortress-fashion, arms folded on their chests,
resolute, hard lipped and icy in the black
smoke of night, & they are there;
forgotten is the delusional pastoral, ivied
cottage spangled by sunlight, foolish under
scudding white clouds, rhapsodic with wading birds.
It has closed in, down - apocolpyse of soul,
shrouded in black, the world has turned to scythes
skimming streams to drybed, silent save for flapping
wings, raven black on black in ominous pitch.
I reach out, step forward - eyeless in the fog -
body slammed open against closed gates.
##

Thanksgiving quote

To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings and goes where it must go. Your prayer knows much more about it than you do.

Victor Hugo

On My 75th Birthday

I thought Life would be kinder.
I thought this one would be really special.

The cat won’t eat or come out of the closet
Where he lies, paws crossed, like a lion
with accusing eyes. He overheard my thoughts.
(How can I explain that he is to die
Before I do? It is the way of things.)

How can I explain that love is not
Something you say over and over
Like a mantra, hoping it takes
But is more like a steady diet
Of Fancy Feast, and tender care
Not just some days, but every day
While the world around us kicks.

I think I would like to curl up
On the closet floor with Henry. We
Could tell each other lies like cats do
With their eyes, purring prevarications
And hoping that we both get well
While the world around us rages.

Some species are meant to be alone
Untangled from the day to day,
The senseless rites of posturing, of
Neediness and righteousness.
Some species see love as a continuum
That doesn’t take sides or insist
On its own way. Some species would
Like to melt in trust and certainty
For once in their life without looking
Out for that inevitable big kicking foot.

Ups and Downs

A lot of people know that I've had an interesting life, but along with the exotic, the risk-taking, the insatiable curiosity and need to learn comes a lack of stability, and security. As a result, I have had several reversals of fortune in my life. Lofty highs to Dark lows. And back again.

I can remember standing on my deck in North Carolina looking out at the snowy yard, the birdhouses filled with cardinals, and wondering "How can I leave this place?" It was beautiful, rural, and peaceful. But I was cold. I longed for sunshine. For two long winters I dreamed of sun.

Once I got the little house on the lake in Florida, I figured I'd died and gone to heaven. Sunshine, a grapefruit tree, bouganvillea overflowing the patio. Along the shore of the lake, wading birds and flocks of ibis gathered.

So, how can I leave this place?

It's a longggggg story (which I'm not going to tell) but this is one of those moves in the other direction. I am losing this wonderful house, the lake, the peace. I'll also be filing bankruptcy, giving up my beloved option trading (for lack of funds) and living in what can only be called tawdry conditions. I mourn.

On the other hand, I am challenged. At age, it is hard to muster the fire to rise from ashes. Just when one thinks they can't bear one more onslaught of pain, a new breath sucks into the lungs, expands and fills you with determination. I don't know if that's the human spirit or the sheer stubbornness of my particular neuroses, but I am plotting and planning already to get back on track.

About Thanksgiving....I Will Survive! :-)

Prose Poem - JFK 1963

A Letter to My Young Husband: re the Day of the Assassination

Where would YOU rather be?

Cinque Terre, Italy

They Say

They say that love is all
When we are stumbling on the path
And so we clutch at those around
who might be friend instead of foe
But what we see are empty eyes
and hollow words are all we hear
And ticking clocks mark out our days
Until we comprehend “alone”
And ticking clocks mark out our days
and hollow words are all we hear
But what we see are empty eyes
who might be foe instead of friend
And still we clutch at those around
When we are stumbling on the path
They say that love is all

10 Things We Love About Italy

This little video just about says it all for me! And Everything Else!

Alligator

They removed a 10 ft. alligator
From the lake last year. Philosophically, a joke.

I have to move the furniture
To Breathe again. Art is the only lover
To strip me naked without bruising
Tender parts. Not much left not already
mutilated.

Art is a parachute

in a world where there Is no place to land.
All Alligators.

Stevie Wonder called to say he loved me.
But he couldn’t see my despair. The depth
and silence of the human heart kills me.

Too late. I am already dead.
Dragged to the bottom, aged in rot, saved
For the final feast.

What's a Loose-Fish anyway?

Welcome to the Loose Fish blog.  -  if you're not familiar with my memoir (The Loose Fish Chronicles)  you may wonder what the title of this blog is about.   It's old whaling jargon, a fast fish likely has a harpoon in its side, "dibs" while a loose fish is just up for grabs.   As Meliville puts it: 

      1.               A fast fish belongs to the party fast to it.  (nearest to it

     2.                A loose fish is fair game for anybody who can soonest catch it.

"...these two laws touching Fast Fish and Loose-Fish will.on reflection be found in the fundamentals of all human jurisprudence . . . what are the Rights of Man and the Liberties of the World but Loose-Fish?  What are all men's minds and opinions but Loose-Fish?  What is the great globe itself but a Loose-Fish?  And what are you, reader, but a Loose-Fish and a Fast-Fish too?"

                                Moby Dick

                            Herman Melville