Friday, July 29, 2011


Pattern of life's lines
Not an infinite science
Go fork cherry pie

Tree Section Detail
~Ansel Adams 1902-1984

After you finish your slice, hurry over to 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

astronomy 101

I kissed her right shoulder.
'And that would be Betelgeuse'.
She laughed. 'Oh, go on'.
Our vagabond bicycles rested against a splintered post, up beyond a country road at a dirt bike path to a pasture lane on an unexpectedly warm early April, hidden from the glare of city lights, lost from civilization, an abandoned 1954 dog-eared Guide To The Night Sky and red-lensed flashlight at our feet. Millions of firefly's hearts pulsed so far out of reach from horizon to moonless horizon.
'Pay attention now', I playfully scolded, 'Orion will disappear quickly'. I wrapped her waist and pulled her close. 'And your waist is the belt of Orion'. The cyclist in tangerine bike shorts did not resist.
'Where?', she whispered up under my chin.
'Up there', and she followed my lofting gaze, 'three stars in a row, see?'
'Yes, I see'.
'And follow those three down, and you have Sirius, the dog star, most brilliant of them all'. She held me tight, becoming the hunter of a grateful and surrendering prey.
'The belt is tied to the dog'.
'Nice'. I kissed her. 'Couldn't have stated it better. I am the dog'.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

alone again

Edward Hopper's, New York Movie (1939), my second favorite painting of his, a shade below Gas (1940).

Perhaps she’s softly reciting the dialogue, imagining herself on screen.
And then I lose my footing and stumble down the steps shattering her solitude.

Saturday, July 23, 2011


Missed Friday haiku
Wheel fell off Life's old buggy
Cold tea morsels left

Don't let your carriage turn back into a pumpkin and hurry over to 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

tale of long ago, part II

tale of long ago.....I will tell you now....

I will tell you now. You are here, I am glad. And there is the infamous mask upon the wall. Did you bring spirits? I am dry. Would you like a smoke? Sit down. No. Here, by the fire, aye.

The ruck sack you carry reminds me. She pried diamonds off her tiara and gave them to my men that rowed below. One each. A diamond - worth a King's ransom mind you - tins of beef, a compass, clothes if needed. All tucked into a sack and rewarded to men covered in soot and sweat as thanks for her safe return. You don't have a bottle in there, you're sure? Fine fine, well.

We separated once she was home. No diamond for me. Just a firm handshake from that waif, she turned and ran. Remarkable girl. I was ordered to replenish the injured Knightley, and to head South, aye, to war that Spring. The swift seas took us quickly to the shore of African savages. Ugly, horrible battles. Spears were to be no match you would think, but those iron-like points shattered some of my best men and vessel alike. The Knightley splintered and is, I believe, a ghost underwater that guards us all.

Before a second and third ship arrived I regrouped my men into selfless warriors with indomitable courage. They became the savages. Determined and stalwart, fine men. Only one week of fierce battle and we were at the island door of the Black Palace. You should have seen his eyes. Beyond surprise, aye. His final expression as my first mate pierced his heart with one violent swoop. They all cheered. I remember only swallowing hard. Aye, the mask was whisked away. Cushioned in straw, crated, and sent home. Let me relight my pipe.

Two more years at sea. No battles, save for a minor skirmish with desperate pirates from time to time. Pesky, but only hungry, aye. Then, to replenish stores, we returned to Malta for three days. By chance I overheard a conversation about...her. A summer home of her grandfather rises above a tree line. Easy to spot. I took a carriage. He was hard of hearing. Guess he thought I was there as the new horseman. Waved me away to the barn and slammed this huge wooden door in my face. I walked stern and peered into a crystal window.

She had her pinky raised with four or five other ancient women, their pinkies up, sitting at a round table. Small tea cups with a black cake at center. This waif that sliced the head off in battle with pools of blood. Her pinky raised with a child's tea cup at her lips. White gown, her hair still short like the last time, shining black eyes. Absolute 100 proof beauty. I tapped on the window. They all turned, pasty white and baggy-eyed bored. She turned and reddened, eyes downcast. Waved me away like the old guy. I moved away and walked into a shadowed arbor, sat on a bench and waited, just knowing, aye.

'You,' she said, like wind amid the lush trees. And then she was there, in the clearing, her white dress waving in the breeze just like the Knightley's sail. I rose, bowed, and she lowered her nose and was no longer a princess. We sat, opposite ends. I looked at the scar above her left eyebrow. She turned her head purposely so I might get a better view. And she smiled.
'I prayed.'
'The old man hired me to whisper at horses.'
A call echoed from the house: 'Maria! Mareeeeeeuhhh!'
Maria. All these years. I never knew. It made me shiver in excitement. Maria. She nervously rose, started away, turned back to me hand outstretched. I grasped it to never let go.

It was in the tower. A brilliant room with a bay window view of the world. On the wall. I dropped to one knee, we were still holding hands, and was about to pull her hand to my lips. She took the mask in both hands and lowered it onto my head.
I could hear the sea, or maybe she was laughing.

Friday, July 15, 2011


Huge storm thrown off course
Eyepiece magnifies heart break
Oceans divide us

Visit happier moments out West at 'recuerda mi corazon', exclusive home of Haiku My Heart

Wednesday, July 13, 2011


Created the old sketchbook five years ago tonight. Some things changed. Some things stayed the same. I can still only juggle 3 balls. I tried 4 but messed up and it rolled into another dimension behind the couch.

It has been fun filling in a white screen with letters bunched up together. I guess it's true. You know - you get a monkey typing and eventually you come up with something. Mostly magpies and haikus from the heart.

A special Hoosier Thanks(that's where I look down at my ragged shoes and mumble 'gosh, thanks')to all who've wandered into the sketchbook and have been so kind and encouraging and gracious with comments.

And now, a short, rather dour, musical selection, Impossible, representing how I really look at Life...

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

new lake hours

People of Chilmark
Thomas Hart Benton, 1920

Row Boat Rental*
Adults: $5.00
Children: $2.00
Under 12: Free!

shoes must be worn. used bowling shoes not allowed. life preservers must be worn. only 2 to a boat. no standing in boat. no feeding water-faring animals. not void wherever Chilmark may be. no racing. no rocking of boat. no circling or facing backwards. no leaping from boat to boat or boat into water. no swinging or lashing of oars. customer responsible for broken oars except for killing of attacking rabbits. small children must wear goggles. owner not responsible for missing children. I truly believe she murdered her little girl. closed at dusk.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

sunny sunny night

His world accorded
painted by ear
impatient brush strokes
bearing true light and shadow
in an unbearable world

Wheat Field with Rising Sun
~Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

Sunday, July 3, 2011

a june bug july

With July gaining speed to fly, tearing away the pencil scrawled month of June from the calendar on the wall, my thoughts just naturally drifted to blue flight and a postcard from paradise of sorts, of the infamous Albany Flier, piloted by Glenn Curtiss 103 years ago, the first flight in the USA traveling one kilometer.

And Flight always reminds me of composer Michael Kamen's lifting end theme to From The Earth To The Moon.

Close your eyes and just soar:

Friday, July 1, 2011

freedom haiku

World clarion call
Tolling hope to all oppressed
Bursting liberty

From the land of amber waves of grain, Peace to all at 'recuerda mi corazon,' exclusive home of Haiku My Heart
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