Come what may(a)...

i am sitting here...the last day of may...and thinking about the passing of maya angelou...and her legacy both culturally and spiritually...and have to admit...that although i call myself a poet...i have read only some of her work...as is the case with many great poets...it is really not something that i do out of laziness...but more out of fear...that i will immerse myself in the beauty of great poets and my own pen will be silenced...or i will lose my voice when i write when trying to emulate another's...in april i had the good fortune to attend the academy of american poets "poetry and the creative mind" event at lincoln center...it was the second year i went...the event celebrates national poetry month by inviting actors, poets, chefs and other celebrities from various paths to read some great poetry...anyway, i opened this year's program and there it was...miss angelou's "still i rise"...to be read by rosie perez...i know some of you are grinning...rosie perez?!?..she had to excuse herself for the first half of the program...a coughing fit...she made it back and it was her turn to hit the podium...the beginning was a bit tentative...the signature nasally full-on-new yawk voice almost afraid of the task...but midstream something happened...and the words were not just on the paper...or from memory...but from somewhere deep inside...and when she finished the applause...thunderous...and that is the real beauty of poetry...great poetry...the chord it touches within each of us...still i rise...perhaps the greatest gift miss angelou bestowed was a voice for the mute among us...an introduction to the masses to what poetry can be...and a kick in the ass to this writer to keep writing...the poetry of our stories will always rise...

a price above rubies....

coming home from mom's (nj) to me (long island)...sans auto, so I could take care of some "city" things...I found myself thinking...quite a bit...the thoughts were an extension of a poem I recently wrote about how it feels at this moment being a woman in her fifties...about how difficult it can be to stand tall when society tries to diminish my worth with each candle on the cake...it's easy to sell yourself short...the media slams us everyday with images of our Hollywood counterparts..."wow, see how she looks at 40, 50, 60..." blah blah blah...I'm thinking yeah, she's had more work done than the belt parkway...to add to these feelings...many of us find ourselves in the job market...again...trying to reinvent ourselves...again...competing with our own children and their contemporaries...ouch....and so I thought about the beautiful phrase...a price above rubies...and became a little introspective...and thought of so many of my friends...close and even casual...all of a certain age...and thought...never let anyone or anything compromise your feelings of self-worth...age is beauty and our worth is far above the prices of rubies...yeah...put that on the resume!

a day in hollywood, a night in the ukraine

the news makes my head hurt...not the lead stories...about the size of kim's ass or the possibility of george being off the market...uh, like he was ever on the market for me, or anyone reading this...but we dream...anyway...it is the real news that causes frown lines...the news about a ferry full of innocent south korean high school students sinking...about missing nigerian girls...and mostly about ukraine...whether or not each story is valid the tone is...putin is marching and anti-semitism is alive and strong...as it always has been...but more so lately...buried deep after stories of beyonce and bieber and all other forms of distraction...i wonder if maybe the greatest history lesson we can teach younger generations is that how it repeats itself...despite hopes and claims to the contrary...so we close our eyes and wish for the happy ending...but it keeps me up...when I think that hitler began his merry march in 1933...and the attack on pearl harbor wasn't till 1941...eight years...i guess it was eyes wide shut...or maybe everyone reading about what vivien wore to the "gone with the wind" premiere...or who clark's date was...makes me think of that old play title...a day in hollywood...a night in the ukraine...

chasing cars

"what can i do to get you in this car today?"...i am in hell...the leases on both our car, and lauren's, are up in may...and so comes the search...and for every dealership we walk into, the catch phrase...i clench my jaw...cause what i want to say is...something along the lines of...buy it for me...and while you're at it...throw in my mortgage...and credit cards...how about gas for a year...unleaded!!!...ugh...and on that little form they all ask you to fill out there are those lines for phone numbers and email addresses...i think of putting in my old phone number...from the 60's...the one my mom made me memorize till my little head hurt...HI4-6184...keep them busy...because you know they are going to call...and email...all the time...like when i was trying not to drop the 14 pound turkey en route to the oven on passover..."what can i do to get you in this car today?"...does it come with a 5 foot invisible shield to surround it...so when I take it out the first time...like to fairway...it won't get battered by some shopping cart racing from the next row that some dumbass couldn't roll back...and also for that car careening onto the northern state without a glance in the rearview...can it fly next time i have to navigate the potholed belt parkway...didn't think so...cars...when we sit down with the pen and the money...and sign on the dotted line...just give me the color i want...let me download "full moon fever"...and drive away...into one mile an hour long island traffic...deal?

what a fool believes

last week i was shuffling through the port authority to visit my mom...this being my mode of transport when i want to avoid the craters...i mean potholes on the belt parkway and staten island expressway...and also pass on the 100 year construction project that is the status quo in the tri-state...anyway...I am having coffee, this after walking by fatigues and guns and police...the authority in this port...a reminder of the fragile state in which we still exist post-911...i am trying to write...and trying to avoid the news from the tv above...another fire in new jersey...hey, new york post...the hell with bridgegate or whatever the catch-phrase du jour is...new jersey is burning...and a plane is missing a la lost...i can't watch those relatives wailing in close-up in yet another report so i look away...and my eyes try to avoid the growing number of homeless also shuffling along...all while mayor de blasio won't shut up about universal pre-k...and i am thinking that coffee is not strong enough...even at noon in this "port"...flash forward...monday morning...the last day of march...the first day in the three-card-monte game that is a presale for tickets for fleetwood mac...prices not bad they say...unless you want to eat this month...but i think of christine mcvie...over my head...as i lament that i have to go to work and therefore will not be able to click search at 10am...it is snowing...i have to dig my freakin' snow boots out again...and it's not april fools' yet...but i remember two weather forecasts sunday night...newscasters flashing pearly whites and mentioning the possibility of flakes north...and we are east...and as i slip into work i am thinking about all of this...and laugh...what a fool believes

on lions...and lambs...

somewhere between the inane olympic commentary...and (the bachelor) juan pablo's brain-numbing assurances of..."it's okay"...all isn't okay as i suddenly find myself sliding towards the infamous ides of march...my last rant to all who read was dated february 17th???...how the hell did a whole month go by?...or almost a quarter of 2014...i am beginning to think that i am creatively a bear...and with that first burst of icy cold my brain hibernates...or maybe not a bear?...through circumstances of work and weather i have missed my weekly writer's group for the better part of this winter...and today as i edited one lonely poem to read tomorrow, i began to ponder the unthinkable...was there any juice left in my creative veins?...was i done??...a list of poetry contests to enter...I became more miserable with each poem i selected...as if each one was just a lamb to the slaughter...this sunday is purim...another one of the jewish holidays that is essentially...they tried to kill us, we won, let's eat...but maybe not...i mean queen esther was really such a bad-ass diva...maybe it's time to channel my queen esther...pull a lion out from behind my lancomed-mask...a poem that will roar...yeah, this sunday i'll drink a little wine, summon the creative spirits and hit the send button!...happy purim (and happy st. pat's)..see you in spring

Now is the winter of our discontent....

to steal a little shakespeare...who had no idea when writing this little gem of the wrath of mother nature in 2014 new york...then again living in those old drafty castles probably was no picnic...but i digress...the weather...it is all we talk about...bitch about...post about...and it is still february...two weeks away from the weather crapfest that is march...we are also in the middle of the winter olympics...and i am remembering that in the past how i would really look forward to the ice skating competition...always amazed at the spins, jumps and grace as I would recall my attempts on the ice...owning white skates with pink pom-pom laces and no apparent skill whatsoever...but this time, maybe blah and numb from lugging around in 400 pound snow boots and winter gear since november, i am less interested...but then a few days ago as i played spin the dial to avoid another dire weather interruption i saw it...little yulia lipnitskaia of russia...wearing red on a sea of white ice...skating to "schindler's list"!!...i did a double-take...figure skating to the sob-inducing music of "schindler's list" in the land that gave us the pogrom...in a nation where it is dangerous in the 21st century to be openly gay...could a 15-year-old know all the twisted irony when she chose the music?...i've googled in earnest...reading how she was discouraged by many over her insistent choice of music...how she had watched the movie many times and was drawn to the girl in the red coat...how they searched for a choreographer...and ultimately chose a russian jew...how, all politics aside, it was a hauntingly beautiful interpretation...if she takes the gold, I only hope putin doesn't steal her thunder...he certainly will never understand the strength of spirit that always burns even in the most oppressed souls...maybe this should be what we take away from sochi...