Metamorphosis

Shards of broken glass

polished into iridescent sea jewels

By the ocean's refining intensity,

A shifting relentless process,

Storm waves and placid waters

Crashing waves and lapping ones,

Nature's allegory for life's voyage.

Ablution

Gusty winds toss lush leafy limbs,

Like sea plants in turbulent ocean waters.

They remind me of a young woman washing

Her waist length hair,

Vigorous but graceful fluidity,

Young boughs clarified by refining winds.

The Sentinel

A single dandelion stands in a sea of splendor,

Her neighbors, clad in myriad and variegated hues,

Release their floral, woody perfumes

Into the moist welcoming air;

Pinks, magenta, deep reds, and

More shades of green than I have ever seen.

An exuberant bush with shimmering pale green leaves

Compels one to linger and finger it.

Silvery green lamb's ears

rest very close to the earth,

Furry leaves are hands as soft as velvet,

Beckoning to be caressed like

Those of a child.

One flawless golden sentinel keeps watch.

Endnote: Revised on 5/13/10.

Gaman

Forgotten, unlamented, lost in the dusty corners of time,

An extraordinary story, shameful and long ignored,

A blot on our nation's soul,

Laden with latent racism

Sanctioned by our government,

Finally emerges in the form of exquisite art,

Giving voice to the gaman from which it came.

During a world war Americans born in Japan were interned,

An egregious euphemism for imprisoned,

As their neighbors watched and applauded

Their government betray its' essential core,

While the internees responded with gaman.

Stripped of their cherished possessions,

Forcibly removed to hastily built desert camps,

Their living quarters little better than stables,

They bore an undeserved and cruel fate

With gaman.

The cauldron of psychic and physical pain,

An alchemy of loneliness, despair, and boredom,

Transformed the detritus of quotidian life

Into the extraordinary art of gaman.

Delicately fashioned bird pins, furniture from scrap lumber,

Intricately woven baskets of twine, musical instruments,

Toys, teapots, a Noguchi sculpture, and poignantly evocative paintings,

Created from the ephemera of exile

With gaman, enduring the unendurable with patience and grace.

Endnote: Written after viewing "The Art of Gaman" at the Renwick Museum, Washington D.C. in April 2010. The exhibit features more than 120 objects, most of which are on loan from former internees and their families. These were produced between 1942-1946 when 120,000 Japanese Americans in California were forcibly relocated to internment camps for the duration of WW II.

False Advertising

Our concept of beauty has been lost.

Advertising distorts and labels;

The pseudo ideal life haunts our days.

Feminine distortions overflow,

Women's bodies have become things.

Models starve, strike vulgar poses,

Air brushed photos mask variations.

The ideal lacks pores, poundage, split ends,

But never cleavage or a tight butt.

Young girls learn this fact prematurely;

Walls of impossible perfection

Induce angst, depression, anorexia.

Women viewed as things become victims,

A dangerous climate infiltrates

And poisons our collective psyche.

Violence against women abounds,

Tearing at society's fabric.

There are many other such victims,

Those perceived as old, ill, or obese.

Reverse mortgage ads for mature folks,

Also power chairs and incontinence aids;

Don't forget high priced diet products

And male enhancement during prime time.

Our swan song is 'Killing Us Softly.'

Oops

I backed into

the car

that was near

my driveway

It was

your sporty

pretentious

new one

I should be sorry

It looked so fine

with an iridescent

shine

But, in fact,

I don’t care

Your car

was blocking mine

Endnote: This is a parody I wrote of an apology poem by William Carlos Williams. In it, he sincerely apologizes to his wife for eating all her breakfast plums. I decided to be brutally honest instead.

Avian Lament

I watched you afloat on autumnal skies,

Welcome spectacle, epic and bitter sweet.

Your plangent notes,

an ancient promise keep.

In Spring the homebound birds all doubts belie.

As time's passage, with ersatz progress flies,

Your homes, your food, your very breath compete

With techno marvels sterile, venal, bleak.

As ever more encroach, doubts and fears arise.

I mourn untold futures lost and betrayed.

Silent dawns, fishless waters pervade.

I mourn diminished hope and wonder's loss.

Deranged nature speaks in many voices.

Eccentric rains, demonic winds rage across

A wounded earth, the victim of our choices.