Patchwork Prose and Verse
Backbone
i take literary license
and claim the freedom!
y’all,
after so many years
of teaching
the technicalities
of grammar
i’m more drawn
to writers
with errant styles
quirky personalities
ways with words
than the world’s libraries
of gray flannel suit writers
o
r s
d p
e b i
r o n
e o e
d k s
without a backbone
give me the rule breakers!
and
more critically
let me be one!
When the Towers Fell
Shortly before the towers fell, my colleague Genevieve Gresham and I were seated at a table in her classroom having our picture made for the Hilton Head Elementary School website.
We both smiled as Colleen Skibo took our picture and uploaded it. The full picture did not print, but if you could see the whole frame, you’d see Genevieve seated to my left and the American Flag hanging proudly over both of us, allegiance soon to be pledged by a classroom of yet unknowing students and their teachers. What can be seen is the clock on the wall, the date on the board, and what one typical second grade classroom looked like, frozen in time, before the world was forever changed.
Today I remember the many heroes who gave their own lives to save others. I pray that their family members feel the arms of these heroes wrapped lovingly around them as they relive the day we will never forget.
Where were you when the towers fell?
The New Yorker
December 15, 2014
Price $6.99
I study each weekly cover
of the New Yorker
carefully
when it comes in the mail.
the most fascinating cover (to me) in the past six years was December 15, 2014 – a glimpse into two studio apartments at Christmas
“High and Low” by Ivan Brunetti
upstairs, closed door, sparsely furnished room – room to think, to breathe, to focus without distractionswalls painted cool grey – a young woman in a green sweater and a red plaid skirt seated at a computer table, staring at the screen
downstairs, open door – eclectic clutter! walls painted warm yellow – everything everywhere, scattered, a young man in a green overcoat, jeans, a red knit pom-pom cap. and a gray scarf entering the flat balancing three gift boxes and a gift bag
upstairs and downstairs, the same doormat
the same hardwood floors
the same layout
upstairs, a floor vase holds a stripped branch adorned with a string of round Christmas lights
downstairs, a potted balsam Christmas tree topped with a white dove, full of ornaments, minus the lights, sits on a table
one gift underneath
upstairs, a wall shelf lined with three Christmas cards on display sits above an electrical outlet where nothing is plugged in – three empty hooks by the door positioned over the light switch – modern and sleek gray light fixture hangs
downstairs, two bookcases, a snowman decoration, a globe, an antique clock, a gold framed painting, a December calendar with Santa, a framed photograph of a lone subject, an antique radio, and a Mickey Mouse phone on a table, sit underneath a garland lining the fissured ceiling, where a traditional chandelier-style fixture hangs
upstairs, no pets – not even a computer mouse
downstairs, a white cat watches – he spilled a few bites of his food from the dish nearby
upstairs, a modem and laptop sit on the single gray computer table occupying the room, accompanied by a to-go cup of coffee, green and white like Starbucks, complete with plastic lid
and
notably
a place to sit – one black chair!
downstairs, a wooden coffee table piled high with two stacks of work flyers or brochures sitting atop an unopened envelope, white porcelain saucer and cup of tea with a spoon nearby – also, an antique phonograph with a 45 under the needle, an open cardboard box of outgoing cards, a marked book on the floor, a laptop desk near the table, and an unstarted crossword puzzle, with a stray pencil near the fringed area rug
and I can’t help wondering how the ceiling got cracked
The Wardrobe
…some say Aslan
is an allegorical
Christ-like figure
and the four Pevensies
disciples
that may be true
my brother
says Narnia
is about
venturing
beyond the realm
of possessions
into the world
of possibilities
known only
to untethered souls
“…it was never about the wardrobe,” he reasons
“…it was always about the world on the other side of that drab mansion of antiques….”
….and on this we can agree:
the real value of Narnia
is in the discovery
of new worlds
with broader horizons
we never could have imagined
we never would have known
if we hadn’t
stepped out
of the old one…..
Survivor
Labor Day weeding
we found Templeton
hiding in the
tiered
cinderblock
herb garden
between the onion chives
and the rosemary
black and gray
going his way
until Mr. Johnson spied him and became
a maniacal Mr. McGregor smacking wildly at the ground
with a large red shovel
we demolished
the herb garden
such a cute Pinterest idea
never envisioned it
the multi-story
rodent mansion maze
it became
Templeton-
a menace to
Mr. Johnson McGregor
but to
Mrs. Beatrix Potter/
EB White/
Johnson
now a homeless survivor
of the farmer’s
cruel garden tools
and a champion
among rats
tri-color pygmy goat, 1’ tall
#420 at the Buggy Days Auction
sold! for $175 to # 2178 (me!)
420? a marijuana goat? MaryJane?
#420 at auction
you ate animal crackers in my
lap on the porch swing
420? Maryjane? Janey! perfect name
but you got sick- pneumonia,
weakened quickly
you ate animal crackers in my lap on the porch swing
not just a goat! you were my kid
but you got sick – couldn’t stand, still bleating sweetly mercy and tears: sleeping pills crushed in a baby bottle,
mixed with one single
hollow point
not just a goat- you were my
favorite kid
bought! loved by # 2178 (me!)
mercy and tears – sleeping pills
and a single hollow point
tricolor pygmy goat, 1′ tall
A Quick Truck Trip
A quick truck trip
Chevy Silverado 2500
white work truck
22K miles
in Dawsonville, Georgia
but wait! another offer –
a gentleman from Raleigh
just saw it and left
but changed his mind halfway home
and wants it now
“it’s our policy,”
the salesman said,
“that if someone else
is already on the way,
we still show it.”
so we looked
you drove
I rode
we talked
we offered
they rejected
we walked
an hour later
you got a slew of pictures
of this truck
with a promise:
“if the gentleman from Raleigh changes his mind,
we’ll call you on Monday.”
Amicalola Falls State Park Lodge
August 23, 2020
Room 405 Amicalola Falls State Park Lodge
a spellbinding window wall of a view-
not your typical
tacky woodland painting
instead, a live view
birds gliding
hikers climbing
like ants on a hill
focused
on their tasks
two queen beds
farm-style sliding doors privatizing the bathroom
stark white shower light awakening the senses
invigorating the body
and coffee –
thankfully, coffee
pour a cup
to take to the lobby
to capture in words this glorious place
three-story stone fireplace spanning lobby to ceiling geometric
clear glass
window wall
an A-frame view
of the mountain valley below
breathtaking
from this summit
repurposed log
split lengthwise,
now a mantle
holding two tall pottery vases
verandas
for breathing
the clean mountain air
start of the Appalachian Trail just a few steps from
these doors,
its map spanning
two stories
on the wall
opposite the fireplace
lamp shade chandeliers,
(multi-tiered)
couch, three chairs,
tables and lamps,
clean wood floors –
echoing space
free of any form of clutter
space to breathe
space to think
space to write
restorative soul space
occasional muffled voices, otherwise
the early morning quiet
of this hour
blended aromas of breakfast-
bacon, coffee, toast-
waft through the lobby
invisible clouds
on the move,
part two of this
Bed and Breakfast Bundle
soon to come
mountainous autumn
color schemes –
rusts, beiges,
greens and browns
bring in the earthy beauty of these outdoors
leaving the sky
the monopoly
on the blues and whites
canoe-shaped bookshelf offering flyers -what to do
what to do?!
what to do!?
take a walk off the grid
visit the butterfly farm
hold tight
for a zip line adventure
take a hike
be enamored
by the
rushing waters
of the
Amicalola
Falls
go fishing
have a picnic
practice archery
take flight
to the birds of prey show
sit in an Adirondack chair
sip wine at a vineyard
go kayaking
go shopping
normally, we might do these things
but not today –
today,
we pan for different gold
today,
we retreat to the peace offered here
today, we take it easy!
Picture Perfect
back to FDR State Park
log cabin #7 on Lake Delanor
evening shade of Slash pines
big around as burn barrels
hum of trucks puttering
around the lake loop
pulling campers
sound carrying across the water
country music from site 21
lighter fluid and charcoal wafting
smoke crossing borders
embers perfect, ready to grill
TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR!
umbrella up, covering the flames
grilling steaks in the rain
together, all that matters
two yellow kayaks, one red canoe
paddling to shore
peace interrupted
steaks done, so is the rain
eerily quiet and still
air-conditioned cabin
too cool on damp skin
urges dinner on the screened stone porch
in the rockers
chirping of birds and crickets
tree frogs trilling
tender steak, coleslaw, dilled red potatoes
juicy seedless watermelon
two bottled Blue Moons
steam rising off the lake
in a misty picture
perfect
Shattered
we’d been going out
then a wrinkle
decided to stop
see other people
out of town
the call came
“there’s been an accident,”
she said,
“a freak accident that
made the Atlanta news
we need to take food”
a car crashed
through Mojo’s restaurant window
where you’d been sitting
your parents holding hands
across the table
pinning them
underneath
shattered glass
everywhere
miraculously you lived
no one understood how –
that’s the nature of a
triple miracle
so we made a raisin-glazed ham
and scalloped pineapple
delivered it to
the Funny Farm
where you were
helping your folks and
recovering too
from the kitchen
I caught a glimpse
of you
in the recliner
your face and hands
cut, bandaged
avoiding my gaze
as you sat alone
my heart skipped a beat
I saw a different you
a vulnerable you
who’d shown
heroic courage
in sifting through
shards of shattered glass
to save others
not the showoff trickster motorcycle rider
not the competitive race car driver
not the fast talker with orange PowerAde staining your lips
as you talked on a concrete picnic bench
I saw you –
knew I was in love with you
but was too scared
of another broken heart
to unleave
how does anyone unleave, anyway?
not all pieces are as easily picked up
as shattered glass
I could at least
ask how you were feeling
no risk there
so I texted,
“wanna talk?”
expecting to wait days
for the response
that came
immediately
Common Threads 