Mountain range, blue rolling out to the horizon, leaning over to the waters edge, downward into the reflection of sky, water cradles this upthrusting earth, and sun a piercing scintillation over the roof of the world, dancing off the mirror plane of waters. The endless sky full of marching clouds crossing over the foothills. While darkened pools cast silence over rippling fish homes, as they wriggle in the depths, breathing flowing silver, waving fin and tail, hidden from the radar of air dwellers. The skimming waves above the fluid breath of scales, a world, fin-dark and handsome, rolling with mud and shells, and all sounds enhanced through the gleaming pearlight dappling down.
Excellent poem by Gary Glauber “…a widely published poet, fiction writer, teacher, and former music journalist. He champions the underdog while negotiating life’s absurdities. He has three collections — Small Consolations (Aldrich Press), Worth the Candle (Five Oaks Press), and Rocky Landscape with Vagrants (Cyberwit) — as well as two chapbooks, Memory Marries Desire (Finishing Line Press) and The Covalence of Equanimity (SurVision Books), a winner of the 2019 James Tate International Poetry Prize. Another collection, A Careful Contrition (Shanti Arts Publishing). is forthcoming soon.”
Once Upon a Time in Detroit
by Gary Glauber
At 24, I took invincibility in stride,
drunk and still driving a rental car at midnight
into a town I’d never been to before,
heading the sixty miles I needed to cover
in record time and never once worrying about it.
Pointing the sedan in the right direction,
I ate up that random highway’s asphalt miles
like I had been to the feted Motor City
a hundred adventurous times before.
I was driving American, feeling every inch
a patriot of horsepower privilege, a Mitch Ryder song
appropriately blaring from the car’s radio.
I was to be shown how nice this town
with the less-than-stellar rep
could actually be. The gray-haired
officials in their fancy tailored suits
showed up to ensure me major improvements
were currently in the offing.
The impeccable politicians included me
like some wealthy insider, privy to their racist,
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July 24, 2020
Tuluum Shimmering is reminding me of spaces between.
Let’s go there now, while the sun is up and the sky’s still free…
Photo by Michele Montserrat
July 22, 2020
This seat on the couch – I am mixing up the morning to see what comes of different postures. Provoking a new strand of this thread of Willing-by-Ink on dead trees. The surface texture broken on the plain expanse of cream-colored paper – a lined, effortful intent.
And there it is again, tension in the upper back and neck. Relief happens with a shoulder hunch and neck revolution, accompanied by a slight crinkling when tendons flex. The stretch is THERE… right in the middle of my upper back.
Realizing success in perseverance, in the effort of continuing the flow of inspiration, an overcoming of the inertia of decades. No regrets, but why did I not take up this from of art before? Was I betting on the lottery of slothful indulgence to pay off in the end?
The problem, the Buddha said, is that you think you have time.
Photo by Michele Montserrat
I may look more deeply at this organization…
Last weekend, I attended my first meeting of the wholly wholesome protest sect Extinction Rebellion. If you’re a government agent reading this, I’d here like to state that they are not, in any way, a terrorist organization, despite the fearsome name. This is a post about what they are instead.
I think I suspected, while dressing (what to wear to a climate activist meeting, I fretted? Answer: literally anything) that it would be me and about six other people. Instead, they kept having to bring in more chairs.
I did not take photos, but if I had, a panorama of the room would have revealed:
- Older women in vibrant attire.
- Earnest couples in their early thirties, all definitely here for the first time, and probably, like me, wondering whether we can justify having kids.
- Some timid young men, heads bent over phones.
- Many people who used they/them pronouns. (“I respond…
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Check out Christine’s poetry blog – it’s pretty good, you’ll like it, I bet.
“For if leisure and security were enjoyed by all alike, the great mass of human beings who are normally stupefied by poverty would become literate and would learn to think for themselves; and when once they had done this, they would sooner or later realise that the privileged minority had no function, and they would sweep it away. In the long run, a hierarchical society was only possible on a basis of poverty and ignorance.”