Happy HollowDaze

Magazine cover by Norman Rockwell: Public Domain (pre-1929)

Magazine cover by Norman Rockwell: Public Domain (pre-1929)

BUZZKILL ALERT – THIS IS NOT A HAPPY STORY.

Not warm fuzzies, but something we may wish to remember
in this season of high expectations and harsh realities:


OPEN THE STARK STORY

Existential Moment

Black Hole

Black Hole

2014 WayneSL

That existential moment
when finite and infinite
eternity and now
can, will, might
and probably not
swirl and swell
and do not come to rest
yet we persist…

On My Mind

The mop and bucket I use for my workouts

The mop and bucket I use for my workouts

FaceBook wants to know what’s on my mind.
Why the hell is ANYthing on my mind?
Must be SOMEthing on my mind to get me out of my warm (too warm?) bed
to stagger around a dark, quiet house.
I must have something
in the shadows
of the back of my mind
bugging me.
It’s in there with the extra box of macaroni
gathering dust like that jar of peanut butter.
Why the hell am I awake at 3AM…
is what’s on my mind.
What’s on my mind? Is what’s on my mind.

I used to crave Peter Pan smooth peanut butter.
I’d eat a whole jar in a few days.
Now this same jar has been there for months
against the back of the cabinet
creeping toward its expiration date
unopened.
Sometimes I feel like that.
The clock and the calendar never pause, never rest,
and yet I must.
The sun will rise and I will go to work in a few hours
whether I am rested or not
whether I am ready
or not.

Beneath me the tile floor is sticky.
As I stumbled barefoot around the living room just now
I found the area where last night I spilled a whole glass of sweet wine
the cheapest sherry I could buy
but the glass didn’t break.
I usually have to pick sticky shards of broken glass out of the mess
but not last night.
That was good.
So I went looking for the steam mop
and luckily I couldn’t find a clean pad for that lame little toy.
Nearby was the commercial-quality mop & bucket I knew would do the job
so I put some water in it and rolled it out here
and made quick work of the puddle
which was larger than I had first thought
and now I know that it was larger still
because the little bit of water and the little bit of mopping
only spread the stickiness around and thinned it out.
So now I’m going to go and get that same bucket
that same mop
and take it to the bathroom to fill it to the top
with hot water.
I’m going to roll it out here and shove the furniture aside
so I can really work out with that mop
Swabbie Style.
The Navy is tattooed on my back pages.
I’m going to do one thing I know I can do and do it right.
and maybe then I can crawl back into my too-warm bed
next to my too-tired wife
and hope for sleep.

TIDINGS

Salvador Dali: The Persistence of Time

Salvador Dali: The Persistence of Time

WayneSL  1990
 a Vilanelle

Time and Tide, who wait for none,
still bind me fretting to my place;
in stately meter march until they’re done.

There is one race I’ve never won:
I’ll never beat, but always chase
Time and Tide, who wait for none.

Death and taxes, moon and sun
allow no alteration of the pace;
in stately meter march until they’re done.

Things I need to do, I shun.
I dawdle, then I rush, and still must face
Time and Tide, who wait for none.

These universal rhythms weigh a ton;
they never dance with any joy nor grace;
in stately meter march until they’re done.

Change is a constant, and the only one;
Though I can find no standing place,
Time and Tide, who wait for none,
in stately meter march until they’re done.

Mundane Fry Day

Hands releasing a white dove into the sky

Hope springs eternal…

WayneSL  1989

On Moonday
I hatch visions like doves
and throw them soaring to the sky
cloudwisp wings on pale wide blue

By Fryday
blue has sunk to rust and gray
the clouds have clumped like unginned cotton
and tumble down to roost around me
lumpy owl-eyed hens accusing
constipated with rotting eggs.