Ink in the Blood Posts

The Road

there’s

a flat line

that runs down

the center

stitched in time

we see it

direct

in the light

that cuts the eye

when you first wake

in the world

before there are words

only a season

a wave on water

rippling out

we float away

helpless

and return unafraid

the boat of our body

circles the sea

testing the high wind

we take off

on a great exploration

to find our way

back to ourselves

our true selves

a lifetime of living

in a glimmering

there is a clearness

in the wake of loss

that no other season can say

what is unsaid

more than death

there is a dying

of what was

a baby does not stay a baby

a toddler does not stay a toddler

a kid does not stay a kid

a teenager does not stay a teenager

a young adult does not stay a young adult

a middle-age person does not stay a middle-age person

an older person does not stay an older person

a centenarian does not stay a centenarian

the form changes

constantly

to create an opening

a clearing

that allows the rain in

the beautiful rain

that forms in a cloud

and drops from the sky

to the soil below

where each seed struggles

on its way

to see the sun

TL

Songwriter Ian Flanigan

i hear

the whistling

of the wind

traveling from the desert

toward the smokies

under Saugerties stars

the glitter of city lights

under a Montana moon

across the prairie

in and out of caves

rushing down the river

catching drops

soft in the summer

a mist over water

a deer drinking

before its dead

fireflies in the night

sparks that flew up

from the fire

and went out

like a butterfly

the dropping of petals

in the sway of trees

a bitter frost

all the ladybugs

trapped in cement cells

the cry of a coyote

the crawl of night

Sleeping Beauty waking up

the fair’s in town

on a Ferris Wheel

going round

the wheat becoming bread

the crunch of snow

cobwebs revealing diamonds

that drop in the blade

disappear in bulbs

appear

in a yellow light

and go back to sleep

making its way

to the sea

washed up on shore

that’s what your voice

sounds like

to me

wind on a breeze

TL

What a Year …

what is the effect

on the world

the long-lasting effect

especially for the young

who are old enough

to understand

but not fully comprehend

what they’ve lived through

it’s hard enough

for an adult to take it in

how desensitized are they

now

before the pandemic hit

they were already aware

you can be here

one second

and gone the next

that’s how common

a school shooting is

they’re not just drilled on fires and bad weather

anymore

but how to be quiet and hide from an active shooter

and now an invisible virus

has invaded every hallway of every school

in every town

in every city

in every state

in every country

and people wanna fight

over a mask

when I wear one

(and I hate wearing ‘em)

I can’t help but think

about the families

out there

who held no funeral

for a death

and if that death was arguably preventable

it makes it unbelievably worse

nursing home victims

had nowhere to go

and people with pre-existing conditions

already had it hard

and not just health-wise

but otherwise

battered women could not leave the house

children living in constant chaos

had nowhere to turn

but inward

the alcoholics and the drug-addicted

kept on drinking, smoking and shooting up

at home

when schools close

what happens to the kids

who live in pre-existing conditions

made worse by uncontrollable circumstances

what is the long-term effect

keeping schools open isn’t just about test scores

for a child

it could mean a meal

a hug

a kind word

a place to go

and feel calm

and connected

like there’s a tomorrow

to be had

that isn’t terrible

‘cause so-and-so believed in you

that you’re more

than your circumstances

that in life

you must continually

check-in

“and adapt, adjust and overcome”

TL

David Fairley

he’s 83

and walks

18-holes

3 days a week

at the top of the tee

in Charlotte

he doesn’t hit ‘em

long

but hits ‘em

straight

he got his grip

from Hogan

and got his short game

by talent

and time

TL

Tommy Morrissey

the

power

of

belief

TL

“Pee Wee” Martin

last night

flipping channels

saw a man

jump out

of an airplane

like he did

when he was

young

in wartime

today he’s 99

with his mind

and body intact

but you could tell

in the segment

how his heart

got damaged

a long, long time ago

when he came home

breathing

but his buddies

didn’t

TL        

“What is …”

lately been

watching Jeopardy

reruns

that make ‘ya think

Trebeck’s still here

it’s interesting how a game show

on television

can connect so many people

round the world

he seemed to understand

how people think

and how emotions play a factor

in performance

he liked putting people at ease

with a joke

a kind word

a look of reassurance

there’s a sense

he would’ve been great

at anything

he had a hand in

‘cause the person he was

was the person

he was

TL

Councilwoman Patsy Jones

never knew

she was once

an English teacher

but makes sense now

looking back

she read everything

that ever came across her desk

she was a close reader

always prepared

for the first and third Tuesday

of the month

maybe overprepared at times

she held herself to a high standard

and fought hard for what she believed in

she never forgot why she was there

she was proud to serve

on the city council

proud she had a part in moving the city forward

from the minor to the major decisions

she helped shape the city she loves

she was tough when she had to be

and didn’t budge if she believed it

to be unfair or unjust or undercut

and she didn’t care if so-and-so didn’t like it much

‘cause she wasn’t there for them

she was representing those who never attend city council meetings

but are affected just the same by what’s in those ordinances and resolutions and such

she understood that

she understood who she was working for

and didn’t take it for granted

as Frost once wrote:

“and that has made all the difference …”

TL

And Everything In-Between

there’s a lady

sitting in the sand

trembling

trying to breathe

in and out

a Tsunami hit her hard

and knocked her backwards

and she can’t find her husband

anywhere

and all his clothes

are floating in the sea

his socks and shoes

just went by

all the papers

the important papers

are scattered

like ash

she reaches for the photographs

the two of them smiling in a frame

wearing silly hats

she can still hear his laugh

feel his touch

his arm around her

his hand in hers

how can she sleep

without him

there

he was always there

taking care of things

taking care of her

how can she sit at the table

next to an empty chair

they talked about everything

and nothing

they already bought the ticket

he must just be away

he’ll be back in the morning

by next week

he’ll be home for Thanksgiving

he wouldn’t miss Christmas

all this wet wrapping paper

these empty boxes

ribbons washed up

like seaweed

he promised he’d never leave her

why is it so cold

summer was just here

why does it keep raining

and raining

where are the roses

he’s out buying roses

there were none in the market

so he went out searching

for flowers

he’s just in the meadow

picking flowers for you

so he can give them to you

when he sees you

again

but you’ll have to wait awhile

‘cause you gotta use your ticket

you can’t waste your ticket

you can’t put it in a drawer

it’s redeemable

go where it’s warm

and dry

and pleasant people

like that place

with the sunsets

and the music

go there

TL

Thomas Sean Connery

my dad loved

movies

so

he appreciated

a great story

told

his favorite one

he shared with me

one day

“The Hunt for Red October”

must have reminded him

of his old Navy days

sailing away on some distant shore

somewhere

he’s missed so many marvelous movies

so many great ones

over time

but he did get to see

one of the greatest movies

ever made

starring one of the greatest actors

that ever was

(August 25, 1930 – October 31, 2020)

TL

Fixed Point

under the lid

of eyes

the clouds go by

in the dark

and the grand old clock

ticks back tears

and drops them in the well

and the flowers float up

like a balloon

lifting laughter off the page

taking notes

for empty chapters

12 numbers on a round face

clockwise

and counterclockwise

time travels

through a portal

of trees

climbing up to the top

to see what it sees

and then scaling back

to touch

the ground

a grain of sand

before it falls

like a flake of snow

behind the cloud

running from the sun

it disappears

like rain

falling asleep in the sea

becoming more

or less

it rolls in waves

turning over sand

changing the shoreline

it reaches back

and springs forward

lifting and letting go

the new and the old

mapped in roman numerals

that can’t tell

time

but rather feeling

it felt

the mortal moment

of a single second

that counts

what cannot be counted

subtracted or divided

it adds up

the sum of all things

made known

to the unknown

TL

Dear Dad,

I can hear

an ambulance

before I ever see it

coming

as I sit there

waiting

for the distant cry

to subside

the night falls

dark

full of flashing lights

flying down the road

but I never see where

they go

they just keep flashing

on and off

like they never gave up

trying …

to save you

TL

The Seal of the Sun

I walk

under emeralds

looking up at chandeliers

swaying in the wind

all aglow

high overhead

these dripping jewels

I wear

TL

Keep Driving

been going

through rooms

with a minimal mindset

not quite there yet

and might never be

but I try anyway

and it ain’t easy

let me tell ‘ya

it ain’t easy

it’s like losing weight

once you do

you gotta maintain it

for life

getting rid of stuff

is like yo yo dieting

losing the weight and then packing it back on

what good is it

if I carry stuff out

and end up replacing it

and that’s what I tend to do

over time

I clear things out

and then clutter it back up

I’m past the denial stage

and the acceptance stage

think I’m now in the

all gotta go stage

and stay gone

so, I made a lot of progress yesterday

then woke up this morning

and passed a yard sale

laughing to myself

I love yard sales

and they love me

and I wanted to stop

and jest take a little peek

like a person trying to quit smoking

jest a little puff

but I kept on going

moving past it

I got enough to deal with

as it is

don’t need no more

stuff

TL

Tennessee

the ridge of mountains

disappeared

in the smoke

and reminded me

of a window seat in a plane

looking down

at the covering of clouds

hiding the earth

below

there’s a relief in things

that remain

nature has a way

of telling us

it’ll be ok

no matter what

happens or doesn’t happen

the rivers will run full

catching leaves and rays

and the eye

of a passerby

TL

The Opera of James Hurst

life is

a strange bird

indeed

never knowing where

it might land

The Scarlet Ibis

fell through the cracks

of my youth

and decades later

might have missed it

still

but it landed like a feather

in my daughter’s hands

and she read it aloud to me

the day it was read aloud to her

we parked in a parking lot

after school

and I sat there staring out the windshield

not seeing the traffic go by

I saw only Doodle

could see him as clear

as a day

that was …

and is

no more

TL

John Daly

at 54

Daly ain’t afraid

to die

never knew much

about him

other than his penchant

for wild looking pants

but saw an interview online

he interviews well

saw he wrote a book

curious

so looked it up

and bought it online

was somewhere in the middle

pages

when heard about his current cancer

being cut out

and how he’s dealing

with it

just a handful of pages left

now to read

and I don’t want it to end

he’s made me laugh so hard

and cry so good

he’s about as real as they come

cusses like a sailor

smokes like a weed

drank ‘til he was drained

an eye for the ladies

enjoys excess to the extreme

falls in love easily

as he forgives

can size up a room

and find the broken heart

he doesn’t kick the down and out

on the street

or walk on by oblivious

he sees them where they are   

and lifts them …

yeah, I’m a fan

for life

and it ain’t got nothing to do

with golf

you’re like a real live Rocky

Yo, Daly …

keep those hands up

keep those feet moving

keep that heart

that Lion’s heart

beating strong

stay outta the corner

and in the ring

TL

When the Fog Lifts

a little bird

of blue

holds the line

against the cold

wind

bobbing up and down

in waves

like a sailboat in the sea

looks down at the grass

still green for now

the turning of blades

the fall of leaves

puddles of glass

soon it’ll be hard

to find food

and shelter

and warmth

where will it go

when the rains come

crashing

and the trees in their tray

stand frozen

like sticks in slab

will it roam the sky

looking for the sun

and wake up one morning

in the stillness of a Sunday

and find it green

once more

TL

Chosen

when he got

there

the place was in ruins

everything was new

when he was a child

but his eyes had seen

too much turn

over and over and over …

and now it seared him

to open them

he couldn’t sleep

even when he slept

all the ruined lives

that never turned round

ending in dead-ends

a ring never worn

innocence lost

his eyes hurt

from the ocean of tears

and the question

of why

he had lived too long

100 years in the middle

of a road

where the grass never grows

he longed for green pastures

and the trees of his youth

and the feeling of red apples

and it was the first time

since he was a little boy

that he could open his eyes wide

and dry

and it wasn’t dark

his body was bathed in the light

and he could see the sea shining

in the distance …

he felt weightless

as if he could fly

like a bird

like a sparrow

…

TL

Journalist Julio Valdivia

journalism

at its noble best

seeks ever only

the truth

digging in the dark

at the lonely hour

whilst the unencumbered sleep

sound in their beds

sacrifices are met and made

for there are stories

out there

that must be told

that have to be told

and certain ones

nobody nowhere wants to write …

but they have to

not for themselves

or the outlet

but for a global society

that would otherwise never know

the truth

we need truth seekers in the world

to silence them is harmful

to us all

the killing of journalists

is a shameful thing

to discard their tortured body

by the railroad tracks

their head chopped off

is something else

altogether

TL