so Fathers Day (USA) is this Sunday (June 21) when I thought it was last Sunday; I wrote something for Juneteenth last Friday and don’t remember if I was in a fog remembering that date as well; I often think I should write and post before the day and rarely do that; well, by mistake or intention, there are two poems before the days for reading before or on each day
June 14 was indeed Flag Day in the USA, and it was Mitzi’s birthday
pink planet
not enough to be alive
sorry
but it isn’t
there must be more
there must be someone to
assist because
we’re made
to help
call the subject Eve
or a friend or a stranger
who
were the wives of Cain
and
so to serve
not unhealthy or a victim
for
in either then
we are enough
but once life is secure if not perfection
then
we must have something else
something more
even
beyond tending and
keeping
rather
the human to serve
and should the presence of the Lord
suffice and
for an anchorite or mystic
but
the rest are made this way by
God
to be
also to serve
more than either one
alone as if on or in
a world
of
one
and we’re not crafted in that fashion
we know because
I look at horizons typically
and before the edge is reached
to
take in
there’s you
c l couch
photo by BoliviaInteligente on Unsplash
there could be inhabitants though it’s yet hot from formation
break
the sun breaks up
the gray
which I think is good
at
least when the gray is pale and blanketing
without interesting texture
from lines of
clouds
maybe of promises of needful rain
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photo by Arno Senoner on Unsplash
at 3
if around this itme
I should hear
behind me
through the window and the wall
sounds
steam and protest
from large tires on the street
I can’t help but think of autumn
and of yellow
the schoolbus that’s allowed
to pass and
when
need
be
stop traffic on its own
pleasing
instruction
and associative
announcing
school
and now the end of school
the day’s
accomplishments
while
we might not be done but if we’re children
are
sense of release
from
well
release
and now to use our legs or our own wheels
if we need them
to go to
honestly
to
snacks
and thinking or not thinking about
about what’s next
before the yellow truck with
seats
should
pick us up
again
too early for the new day
of a new day
the final journey for the 180 year
the start-up healthy
wheezing trip
in
August of
a year
we say in this context
must be
new
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photo by Marcelo Cidrack on Unsplash
Miami, FL, USA
two windows
the day has turned
a little gray
and the way I saw two windows lined
in the brick house across the street
got
me thinking about school
and how when I was in
it didn’t hurt
to be
looking out
well
until caught at it
nonetheless where
the colors
were not made of paper or the time
of paper
either
but promise that we’ll get
to go
even if uncertain where
I should be going freely and so
learned to keep
a sense
and wish
for
freedom
hmm
and now the day is gold again
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photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash
A little yellow house in the fishing town Büsum, North Sea.
the building across the street is red brick, but I like this photograph
hard times by Charles Dickens
sigh
I had a father
from a distance
and
the day is
sentimental and I suppose
we’re supposed to go
along
and I don’t want
to
for I miss the one I could have
had in
him
but for
the demon rum
maybe the war that caused it all
perhaps
the conversations that
we could have
had
the things we could have learned together
and did not
parent
mentor
friend
love of outdoors that was his as a child
and I trust
I hope
a man
I came across old photographs
one with him wrinkly
dressed
sporting a fedora
decades before the Spielberg
re-invention
though maybe
Steven
had
such
a photograph as well
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on Fathers Day
Dickens really did write a novel called Hard Times
I notice nearly all the the tense is past, real and nostalgic, as if events as well as wishful feeling can only go back there
sigh
today in the USA is also Flag Day, and globally it’s Mitzi’s birthday, Mitzi our dog of seventeen years, who appeared as a scrawny foundling puppy on the porch and grew to be a fat and happy dog
photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash
impulsive nature
it beats to creation’s rings
first invocations
c l couch
photo by Nijwam Swargiary on Unsplash
walk to freedom
the Underground Railroad
there is an image of Lincoln
and of
a burgeoned tree in
front of the house
I borrow
and sometimes I wonder at these
the basement is connected and apart
a dirt-floored room with
a further alcove
also
rude but accessible
unnoticed and attached
and could there be a place of hiding
in this place
and
did it work
and are there untold stories of
escape
and respite on the way
to much more
lasting
freedom
that with Confederates occupying
the region could afford
or
were there failures
time to time
and no one got out
to live
except to go back south and
lack of life
to breathe the mottled air
humidity with
captivity
even the molecules would not be free
but paid for through blood released
and
freedom kept
inside
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photo by 85mm.ca on Unsplash
"Toronto Blue Jay Black Juneteenth Celebration"
Toronto, Canada
published on June 19, 2025
tropical
not really
I’m simply thinking of the song
that folk like me
who
don’t care for big heat
are thinking of
that’s all
today is a matter for endurance
which
somehow I think cheats
the gift
of the day
and isn’t there more
I should do than
simply
get by
moving slowly like
reptiles after lunch
or us
except
and except
the reptiles look for even hotter
blank spaces
say
on rocks
by which to sleep and risk
the afternoon
sorry
lizard and snake folk
I’m
wanting air-conditioning
that right now doesn’t work
in
my poor place
and otherwise to lie in the coolest place
I know
or
might fashion
and so
a wish you might not want
a cooler day
bless us
everyone
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(it was certainly cold enough in Dickensian winter and there, I’m whining for a fictive place and season
“Heat Wave” a song written by Irving Berlin)
photo by Chris Abney on Unsplash
offerings uncontrived
I closed the window
Prufrock-like
since
I don’t know it will make a difference
in
mythology
I hope to keep the heat out
and
the air comes in the back
where I left the window open
some
and there
“The Open Window”
and
was that by Saki
so I’m thinking of stories
while
mind unwinds
as
in manifest
a time
and shall the muses without offering
nonetheless be pleased
with me
well
here are time and energy and my
one coffee of
the morning while dealing with
illness
to hope there’s a libation in there
somewhere
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(“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T. S. Eliot; “The Open Window” by H. H. Munro, “Saki”; the muses in the ether and when they visit Earth upon our heads and in our hearts)
photo by Ciocan Ciprian on Unsplash
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