Author Archives: Admin2014


This Morning

Just this morning it happened: June’s plague.
Squirrels by the dozen descended from nearby trees
choice yellow mangoes left violated, bitten on the vine.
Mosquitoes similarly stung a feast on my ankles
and beside me, turned my dog’s butternut flank red.

I drank a cup of coffee followed by a glass of water.

And I remembered a woman who sits zazen with us
All she does is tell us about how her husband left:
how she wants to die and then kill him–unaware
of her irony. I wonder: am I any different?

The ants that march by me in single file
each one carrying a crumb from last night,
the coffee that wakes me, the blood I let
to mosquitoes swarmed at my ankles,
the squirrels’ mango...

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I would also be St. Kevin, and ignore what keeps us from working with him, from emulating his example. I would work to a loss of self–a no-self–only gesture. Not for reward but to strive for the thing itself. To become the thing itself. To tree.

ST. KEVIN AND THE BLACKBIRD

And then there was St Kevin and the blackbird.
The saint is kneeling, arms stretched out, inside
His cell, but the cell is narrow, so

One turned-up palm is out the window, stiff
As a crossbeam, when a blackbird lands
and Lays in it and settles down to nest.

Kevin feels the warm eggs, the small breast, the tucked
Neat head and claws and, finding himself linked
Into the network of eternal life,

Is moved to pity: now he...

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That time you threw the towel over the rack so effortlessly
when there was no comment that fractured the certainty
beyond being took you back to fifty years–
seeing no comment
…hearing sans judgment
thinking no name
…touching not felt
smelling no scent
…tasting w/out gesture
Another shore the wind sea foam at water’s edge
a child who once waited for the water to take him away
the tide lied because it pretended to divide the ocean
It may be that even the concept of One is flawed
to name is to lie and so let’s call it All.
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I am more than what I decide to get done today

part mole on my grandmother’s cheek

some belittling gesture my grandfather made.

The indignant patriot before a righteous machete charge,

I was in his cold coffee this morning.

My aunt’s secret Charleston dances, when she decided to cut her hair short

the raindrop that fell into my mother’s eye at her wedding

my father’s ashes leavened with regret for having left Cuba,

and the pair of shoes he got when his mother died.

I’m standing between two mirrors back and forth,

forward and aft, as on a ship, and focus past

the echoes of my ancestors reflected to a point

just past the horizon….

…I am an unseen decision made in the dark.

The dead just...

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front cover, In the Shadow of Bois Hugo: The 8th Lincolns at the Battle of Loos by Nigel Atter, Peter Simkins (Foreword)

Atter’s book covers the story of a battalion going first into action in the Battle of Loos, France in 1915. The Lincoln’s (Lincolnshire County’s) 8 Battalion is an example of what was even then being called Kitchener’s Army. This was the first nationwide enlisting effort in Britain, personified by Lord Kitchener in his personal appeal for more men, in reaction to the fact that the original BEF was all but gone by 1914’s end. There was a critical shortage of manpower on the British front facing the German trenches from Ypres snaking southwards to Artois.

Enlistment,...

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Chaz Mena – October 14; 2017

He played in Sara Werner’s The Things They Left Behind as Cleve Ferrell. SKSM: Could you start with telling me a bit about yourself? Who are you and what do you do? Chaz Mena: Chaz is a Freedoms’ Foundation Award winner (2014) for his PBS teleplay, Yo Solo…

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Day old bread and this morning’s coffee

tastes like opportunity all over again

I know the milk is off by now, the coffee saccharine

the bread’s crust limp with rancid butter

but so is my forgotten To-Do list from much earlier

written in tired pencil, no room for error

its eraser long since gone

thus goes my life I’m tempted to say

and another day drips off

I didn’t visit my ailing mother

and my father’s ashes still lie here, in an alien country

one that showed itself to him with as much promise

 

 

as my to-do list did me this morning

I feed my daughter fried zucchini and finish this poem later.

All I ever am is one man with one day to fill right.

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Played to sold-out audiences. It was a pleasure to work with my dear friend, Michael McKeever’s on his new play. The trailer below produced by Actors’ Playhouse at the Miracle Theatre, Coral Gables, FL.

Review from Miami’s Daily, The Miami Herald

JULY 17, 2017 1:45 PM

 Intriguing stories swirl in new play about the iconic Mona Lisa

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Another Article that helps identify some profound concerns of Buddhism…the concept of being in the present reality. That is where our home is.

The Gods Become Human by John Aske

We all have to learn the comfort of being ourselves – and not someone else. It is much harder than it looks and the problem never really goes away. I might notice in my laugh someone else’s laugh; and a turn of phrase – which whilst not appropriate – was picked up from a memorable encounter.

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