new poem: "Range"
Oct. 31st, 2026 09:35 amA sonnet about singing, and about not being a star. In Tabula Rasa 18 (page 40 in the PDF).
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The pellet, as it happens,
made it farther than I ever did,
stopping on page sixty-two






....we are all drowning these days, are we not? Don't you wake up
feeling you've reached your limit, that the worst must be past,
only to discover you're at the top of a spiritual Guggenheim,
a cool, white spiral of descent still awaiting you?
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... No matter who you are, your very life
is rebellion, your love is a fist in the air.
... I've learned that emotion conducts
some memories to the left and others to the right;
that feelings brand events for keeps
and segregate archival stuff from what
is only "by the way." The more that you remember,
the more there is of life, the more of time there is;
but time gathers in the past and drags you
back by the belt;
and when I think of how much trouble
I have had with emotion, I remind myself
of a stop sign in a hurricane...
One week ago, my mother had two COVID patients.
Now, she has thirty. What? I say. When did that happen?
though when's not the question I mean.



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