Waiting for Hurricane Florence

(a pantoum)

I opened the closet door

and the boxes fell into my arms -- before

landing on my chest and on down to the floor

spilling pencils, pens, paper, and more

needed things, useful things -- to store.                 

I opened the balcony door

and let the outside in,

the quiet of peaceful abandonment.

Inside being in order and by plan:

needed things, useful things -- what for?

Outside windy impulses span

time and I let the outside inside me roar:

needed things, useful things -- restore

landing on my chest and on down to the floor

to let the outside inside me for more,

I open the all the doors.

écureuil

My dearest squirrel,

I remember you first scurrying

about at Marion Square.

Who knew then how contagious

was your energy;

how witty and forthright,

your exclamations;

how wicked you would

become with a pickaxe?

who knew that

you embrace challenges

with an inspiring fervor,

headlong, come what may.

Who knew these things
and did not fall involve with you?

Fall in the lowcountry

Bushy plumps of

pampus grasses

dense river currents

crashing frothy waves

on tired sand

sun bright and low,

clouds dark and high

breeze at your back

bugs at bay
fall in the low country

Nicole and Steve moved away

I took the dog for a walk last night

out the pedestrian gate,

down the sidewalk

to the marina.

I looked up,

4015’s lights were on.

3003’s lights were on.

I turned towards the docks --

your lights were not on.

Stupid going awayness.

One life to live

There is a little tan and brown house          

in the city on a narrow one-way street street

with grass and dirt and weeds all around

and narrow vertical blinds faintly glowing.

There is evidence of life inside: 

myriad toys fling themselves from the closet,

squeals and shouts flee from airing windows,

crowd noises erupt from a flick’ring TV        

Boom, and boom, and boom, from the boom box

the grill burns on, children scatter in and out

little dogs barking on Sunday afternoon --

you can’t beat that, no, you can’t beat that.

These are the means two use to survive

two jobs, six days a week, fifty weeks a year

with four kids and ’ absentee landlord --

living life in a little tan and brown house      

in the city on a narrow one-way street,

accepting and loving and good;

six lives share one goal and one soul
blesses with so few opportunities.

Visiting your grown up daughters can be hard

They are not who they used to be.

They are not children or girlfriends

predictable and unwieldy.

One is curt with me, ever assuming

I’m possibly up to no good.

Oh, and I know nothing.

And the other is happy living in chaos.

A chaos I find difficult to inhabit.

But, oh, I am wisdom personified.

Either can be a safe haven in a storm.

Both are inundated by the demands family life.

One worries about me, one does not

and I love them each so very too much.

Charleston to Greenwood

Who are you rural SC ?

(while driving to Green wood through rural South Carolina)

White sandy drives edged in brown

disappearing into piney woods

leading to a hidden house.

Houses acres apart

surrounded by expansive grass

bordered neatly by fences.

Both shielded shelters

in their way.

Big fancy ones or

little neglected little ones

framed, yet uninviting.

I can imagine a smart TV

in each of them;

I can imagine a rifle

or three in most of them.

No row houses,

no stacked apartments,

no neighbor upon neighbor

with a driveway for a side yard --

what luxury

and yet,

isolated, in permanent retreat,

these are the homes of my human

sisters and brothers.

Did your eyes grow smaller

to see only your reflection

as mine grew larger

to encompass strangers?

To Kathleen

(my friend who carries all the wishes of the Buddha flags in her heart)

swim Kathleen, stay afloat

float Kathleen, rest

run Kathleen, run away

away in your mind

spin Kathleen, spin a web

a web of armor to protect your heart

breathe Kathleen, breathe

deeply all the air you can

cry Kathleen, cry out

a river pain and fear

and know, Kathleen

that we are here

Traditionally, prayer flags are used to promote peace, compassion, strength, and wisdom. The flags do not carry prayers to gods, which is a common misconception; rather, the Tibetans believe the prayers and mantras will be blown by the wind to spread the good will and compassion into all pervading space. Blue symbolizes the sky and space, white symbolizes the air and wind, red symbolizes fire, green symbolizes water, and yellow symbolizes earth.

Biking and observing

My grandson and I flew down West Coast Ave

to the sailing dock to catch the sunset with our eyes

and take pictures with our cell phone cameras.

He shot panoramas and spheres of the skies.

I shot one vertical and was satisfied.

He processed a whole Planet on his own

before we zigzagged back in the dusky night air

onto Ontario, heading back on Headlands

and changing our outlook on Outlook

returning to Union with sister and brother and mamas.