My endeavors as a pencil artist have been fraught with stutterstep start-stopping. It is only when I get stubborn that, rusty and arthritic as I am, I put in enough time on a single drawing to get beyond the teeth-clenching frustration and into some true joy, building tones and feeling the image stir with life.

This drawing was only supposed to take a day or so, but I kept hesitantly scratching at it, almost throwing it away a couple of times. Now the graphite is finally beginning to cooperate, and the path to completion has clarified. Three or four more hours ought to do it, maybe, depending how the erasure phase goes.

Glad to be back yet again. Here’s hoping the next few days see a new, different drawing well started.

soldiers dig

trough becomes trench

and diggers hunker down and huddle

peek and fire

fortify and advance

dig in bug out die heroically

or inadvertently

with outmoded munitions

bought under entrenched conditions

to perpetuate a madness

that seems to be here to stay.

..

it is time to dig

a different way.

Image courtesy of WordPress Free Photo Library

absolutism absolution

there is a central limit

and eke a second law

and if your headlights dim it

may not be due to flaw

..

the circle has no endpoint

the oval has no teen

the hyoid has no bent joint

some pintos never bean

..

some mountains are not rooted

some fountains come from pens

some woodwinds are not fluted

and ifless elses thens

perambulate in limbo

and percolate unbidden

a truth is falsehood’s shim though

and most fine sites are hidden

Oaths

I pledge my effort to this day;/May zero lassitide dismay.

I affirm that I will do my utmost to seek truth for the rest of my life.

There are sources of joy beyond impulse satisfaction, and I will value the former more than the latter.

Every person is distinctly different from me, and I will do what I can to respect that difference.

I swear with all my heart I am not done.

I’ll Tell You the Truth About Love

(A response to W. H. Auden’s “O Tell Me the Truth About Love”)

A poet named Dubya Aitch Auden

Once asked for the Truth about Love,

Untarnished, unsoiled, unsodden?

We hope and pray heaven above.

I think of a Hepburn named Audrey,

And then of another named Kate,

Who prove that Truth needn’t be tawdry,

And that Love is both wild and sedate.

..

So I say, late lamented friend Dubya,

That the Truth about Love is elusive.

Sometimes Love may seduce and then club ya

Sometimes Truth is not gladness-conducive.

But the Truth about Love is it’s needed,

And can beckon and cure the uncouth,

And the Truth is it’s lovely when heeded,

And is much that I Love about Truth.

My sweet cohabitant Donna has prepared a bowl of strawberries topped with blueberries and placed it near the rocking chair where I toil, with the red corpuscular cushion supporting my lower back, to bring my dual-acrostic illustrated poem to completion.

This is a moment created by the break Donna created when she said, “Would you like some strawberries?” and I replied, “Yes, I would. Thank you!” It is a welcome interruption worthy of capture, a delicious sliver of the day.

last month he was an arizonan and a phoenician

now he is becoming an ohioan from toledo

because love is grand and of colossal power

and the woman is lovely and kind and playful

..

leaving one community for another is not easy

it is an uprooting that includes many goodbyes

there is a hint of the funereal

with an unspoken “i will never see you again”

..

he does not miss the hellish heat

he sees the d-backs from a distance

he dines on broiled embellished meat

new friends will have some fun his stunts

..

it might be nice to be a buckeye

but this guy’s still a desert rat

and yes, it’s me and with some luck i

like ohio, trim my fat.

she used near-inaudibility

to keep me on my toes and in check

and it gave her opportunities to correct me

no

i said I heed you

not i hate you

..

i asked her to speak up

and then i learned of her wicked wit

for she levitated two yards above my head

and was harder to hear than ever

i had no clue what she was saying

itay not even have been words

..

then she tilted her head back

to speak up to the sky

or to a deity of rumbling thunder

and then i heard her clearly

as she declaimed I AM AS WELL

and the heavens or clouds parted

and lightning struck her

as a celestial voice responded

TRUE.

SO?

..

she was unharmed by the lightning

but miffed by the dismissiveness

so she began murmuring again

as she settled close enough

to breathe her voice into my face

several place t emse ves ab ve us

but i choose to be at your sigh

..

then she faded into the air around me

her disembodied face lingering by my ear

as she whispered find me

and was then gone