Poetry

Seven Poems For Mary Shaver Hobi 1946-2014   1.   On the immanent departure of a dear friend   The news of your departure Your infinite voyage Is still too fresh a wound Opening my heart like A red flower

Fish Scribbles

Playing with randomness on the keyboard, I search for something recognizable, which I can use as a jumping off point. You have to start somewhere, so I’ve chosen this place and this time to begin with Get Hihdity.   What

Today I discovered Emily Dickinson. Last time I read her was at the age of twelve, when I rejected her totally and forever. It wasn’t what she said, which I did not remotely grasp – it was the way it

Today I have Once again Discovered What the sages have been trying to tell me All along: That Thinking In the sense of prodding around To see how I’m feeling about life In any one moment Is unwise.   Because

Foreword It was a difficult year. The future looked bleak and grey, the days flat and featureless, each one seemingly the same as the previous one. On the surface, life was fine. I had a good paying job to fill the days and

Volcanoes explode in Yunnan, So many tongues of dragon fire Leaping, flaring into the ashen sky. Cars crawl along New York’s wide, cramped streets, Idling angrily, while urchins with dirty little feet Shriek and holler at their fast-paced world. Up

I did not weep today When you flew away After bringing Your young cats Home to my house And spending Three precious days Sharing With me Not profundities But little things Kitty coddling Endless movies Cooking and laughing. After those

There are the regular times Of peace: Morning When I wake up before the world And catch it Just sitting there Not going anywhere. And bedtime When I finally give it all up And stop Running.   It’s in between

The pews and the smell became secondary to the person next to me and the buzz  I felt in my feet. I saw rivers and land and a patch of wildflowers that grew taller than my youngest brother. I saw