poem

Tho’ it took but 48 hours
I had not time to spare
And so I gave it 36
And hoped to win the dare.

The brisket tried its very best
To seem like corned beef
But lacking time
Within the brine
It turned out merely beef.

--Charlene Hurt, 24 July 2008

[retrospective #4 in a series on Charlene's writings]

Seeing your neighbor approaching on his regular walk
You prepare your greeting

The approach, greeting, response, and good-bye
All without either breaking stride
Requires careful thought
To avoid the banal or repetitious

Sunrises.

Rainbows.

Butterflies.

Baby rabbits squinting their fear of the Unknown.

Despair and feeling hopelessness are languages that many are not able to speak.

I am heartbroken when I read the stories of those who have reached a "I cannot do 'this' any more" cusp-point.

I am heartbroken because I have been faced with such a cusp.

THE TREE ABOVE —THE TREE BELOW

by Timothy Leary

What is above is below

What is without is within
What is to come is in the past

Waking before the alarm, The cats jump and run; Enticing, and inviting me to rise.

Filling the kettle, I dry the clothing, Washed the night before.

I LOVE to hear thine earnest voice,
Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--
Old gentlefolks are they,--
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.

I love you.

I love you, like the ground loves the rain.

I love you, like a bird’s feathers love the wind.

[He, crouched at the base of this street sign]

"Brother-Man...

...would you like an orange? {(or two (or three))}"

"Oy! ¡Vamos!"

"Sólo un momento más", dice uno de los otros. "Estoy cansado."