Shakespeare Disputed -Joan Brady

Too often forgiveness
comes with cold fingers.

So many sides, and truth
a facet on a twirling crystal
cut to fit a multitude of views
from opposite directions.

But vengeance only digs a deeper
wound, and punishment’s acid
taste, demanding habit, lingers
somewhere in the back of the soul.

Is there anyone with deeds long past,
that they would not undo if time
allowed a re-lived morning, mourning,
mercy’s loss for lack of trying?

Indeed, there is much straining when

sun, thick with opinion, blinds the eyes.

                      ***

LAST WORD

by John Field

                       Look up there! 

Leaves shining brighter 

Than the artificial lights 

On Broadway’s highest marquees 

October’s theatrical foliage 

Makes little boys leap high 

To shame the earth its stationary ways

It’s visiting hour in my garden 

Roses perfuming the air 

That breezes there—petals 

Wearing so much makeup 

They remind me 

Of the painted cheeks of antique ladies 

Playing bridge and sipping tea

Once I searched for slow beauty 

Of which there can never be a discussion 

To save me from the quick 

Quick years I’d wasted 

And found it hanging in the Louvre 

Then raced off to Santorini 

And all the other grand places 

They recommend in travel books

How quickly time passes 

Traveler turn back Sinatra’s friendly skies 

Cry out to me—nothing’s up here 

That isn’t down there 

Cramped seats jet lag 

Fat chance no thanks

I’d rather wake up in my own bed 

And watch the morning light 

Finger-paint the hills 

As if remembering them by touch 

Then take long walks 

Down dusty country roads 

Earth firm beneath my feet 

Thoughts soft and ripe as fallen fruit: Afterglow

Figs watermelons plums cashews 

A drop of dew 

The new moon’s little skullcap 

Japanese footbridge strawberry patch 

Haut brion and cheval blanc 

Tugboat whistle purple river 

Winter spring summer fall 

Minneapolis Saint Paul

Just to be here for a little while 

Just to be here just to be here 

And then adieu the day I outlive myself 

Because my mind can’t tell the difference 

Between which is the real world 

And which isn’t 

That’s when I’ll pack it in 

And take a trip to kingdom come 

A place they never mention In the travel books 

Where nothing ever ends begins 

Happens or becomes

                   ***

Whimsy for Cream

I sang “He’s leaving on that midnight train to Georgia”

No, I BELTED out “Said he’s going back to a simpler place in time”

So perfectly my soul soared with the music to the heavens

And crashed through the sound  barrier in my little house.

And Cream, curled in sleep, twitched her ears

And her paws ran through the air with the greatest of ease,

Perhaps to catch a flying trapeze?

Perhaps clapping for an encore, to shout brava to me,

Surely surprised there was such an extraordinarily gifted singer in the house?

Perhaps to make a flying leap for those wooden steps to board

That midnight train to Georgia before it pulled out and left her behind

With this crazy lady who did not know that she was supposed to

Quietly go about her business and let the cat sleep in peace and quiet?

                                               ***

Daddy-Longlegs Spiders Don’t Scare Me -[ Joan Shepherd

A young Daddy-Longlegs spider, only about as big as a nickel from toe to toe, was walking slowly up the wall. But it wasn't walking normally.

One of its legs was different, shorter and bent awkwardly. Fascinated, I compared it to me with both of us having a shorter leg and ambulatory problems.  I have had  a great deal  of medical attention  and  doubt he has  had any . I can’t cross the street without  the robo-voice telling me time is up because I walk slowly but the poor little spider, his species named for long legs, can’t move fast enough to catch dinner. Friends help me put on my shoes and drive me to the store to buy groceries.  One never sees two spiders sharing a fly or building a web together.

I felt sympathetic  toward  this handicapped little Daddy-Longlegs and without any further  comparisons or thought, I squashed him.

                                        ***

Alien Abduction - Dave Lewis

There was a strange news story from a little Idaho town many years ago. A town not officially qualified to be called a town: no name, unincorporated and non-taxing, with no post office or 7/11s and having just one commercial building, a General Store/Bar & Grill/Gas Station.  Once the town had a name, back about 1800, but that name is forgotten. The indigenous people, a tribe of about one hundred in count, were wiped out by small pox, tuberculosis, and liquor. The diseases were brought in by a missionary priest and fur trappers brought in the liquor.   

Soon the tribe had no members except a bi-racial boy being raised by the priest-missionary.  The priest told the boy that his father had been a French Trapper but in fact the priest was the father. The boy’s mother had died not long after his birth, the victim of the priest’s gift of tuberculosis.  In his teens, the boy became the only resident of the town that now existed only in memory – this one boy’s memory. The boy lived to be 103 years of age. During his lifetime he had passed on countless stories to his male descendants. The current, and only surviving descendant, Joshua Tremble, passed on those stories during the town’s repopulation following WW II. The era now recalled as the fabulous fifties.

Joshua Tremble, popularly known as Josh, retold those inherited stories to the news-hungry, new citizens in the nameless town.  Like his ancestors, Josh was not above inaccurate elaborations of the stories. New-comers might believe it all but folks who had heard several conflicting versions  suspected falsehood. The idiom, “Are you Joshing me?” is thought to have originated in the American language right in this unnamed Idaho town.  Only greenhorns believed Josh with assurance but the residents with some seniority grew more critical. 

In the fabulous fifties,  UFO talk and alien pilots were a hot topic. Gossip established a fairly universal image of what those alien pilots should look like – as well as the UFO space craft with amazing claims of its speed and agility.  The black & white TVs of the time routinely carried sketches of claimed sightings and they looked eerily similar. So when Josh excitedly came into the General Store/Bar & Grill/Gas Station and proclaimed he had been kidnapped by aliens the previous night, the local folk didn’t know how to react.  They wanted to believe an exciting alien and UFO story but when it came from Josh it required a lot of throttling back in acceptance to avoid future disappointment.

Josh’s description of his alien kidnapping fit all of the many alien and UFO traits the residents had read about and seen on TV. Josh’s tale went like this:
– two silver clad creatures, bulkier than Josh, had captured him in the bunk of his cabin.
– the creatures had two arms, two legs, a big helmet over what must have been a big head.
– their two eyes, seen through their helmet window, were very dark and large and wrapped around.
– the aliens slipped Josh into a plastic sack with only his head free.
– they carried him out into the yard and placed him on a silver-colored pad inside an unusual vehicle. It was rectangular, shiny silver with a hump in the middle, tapered at the rim.
– one of the aliens pulled Josh’s right arm out of the sack and injected him with a syringe while the other alien held him down.
– the compartment with the pad was closed up and as he was falling into a deep sleep,he could feel the accelerations as the vehicle went in circles.
– when he woke up, he was back in his bunk, there was no one around, there were strange symbols drawn on his body in permanent black ink, his head was shaved and two areas on his scalp had burn marks (Josh suspected electrodes had been used). The strangest change was a metal tag that had been clipped through his ear lobe. The tag was green and marked with seven symbols, all a combination of straight lines.

The first residents to hear  of Josh’s alien kidnap were impressed and soon the verbal story was viral  nation-wide on the 6:00 o’clock news. Josh stripped down to his Speedos and had photographs taken which he trade-marked and sold to TV shows, tabloids and magazines for thousands of dollars.  Close-ups of the ear tag were $500 at first but the demand was so high Josh raised it to $5,000. Josh was flown to Boise, Los Angeles and New York for TV specials; each payed a premium price.

Some of the residents of the Idaho town, now named TREMBLE, were envious of Josh’s instant fame and his new fortune. They promised to visit him in Los Angeles in his newly acquired mansion where he was waiting for a film to be shot, to be called Alien Abduction but the neighbors never left Idaho.

The Hardy Brothers back in TREMBLE,  were not envious but they did quietly congratulate themselves for a well designed prank. They both worked for the Fish and Game Commission for which they had routinely moved grizzly bears, mountain lions, bisons, and bull elk to new locations.  Putting Josh under had been a lot easier and the results were much more fun. They laughed every time they looked at the big silver tarp they had stretched over their pick-up to create a UFO.  They celebrated how well Josh had provided the details of an alien abduction. They did wonder if he had been aware of the real facts. 

The Hardy Brothers’ made vacation plans to go down to Kansas and make some crop circles in the grain fields. They underestimated the life span of that prank.
                                       ***

To Whom It May Concern - Robyn Makaruk

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN ......

If only you knew ...

how we twelve jurors

struggled to comply with the admonitions of the judge

to not share, research, or discuss anything,

anything at all

of the testimony we were about to hear 

in the case before the court.

If only you knew ...

how those testimonies

touched us all deeply and revealed to this juror

how human behavior has a dark side, 

and lurking beneath a fragile skin 

often rears its ugly head and shows

how some can be dealt a sorry hand in the

game of life.

If only you knew ...

when we were sent to deliberate

how we struggled to assimilate 

seven weeks of testimony in the form of transcripts, 

very few records of evidence and

the judge's instructions to the jury.

If only you knew ...

how much this jury was organized, collaborative 

and committed  to delivering  a verdict,

each strung out by loss of sleep,

with our presiding juror 

rallying us to the task at hand

If only you knew ...

that on this third day of deliberations

we were almost there 

and had reached a decision on 

one of the two cases.

If only you knew ...

that when the bailiff knocked on the door,

a smile on his face, and

announced the judge would call us in to court

in about half an hour,

we scurried to return to the process

not knowing what would come.

If only you knew ...

that when we were seated before the court

and heard the judge announce that the parties

had reached a settlement in this long trial, 

the words “ladies and gentlemen of the jury

we thank you for your service, and you are now dismissed”

sounded rather hollow 

as we trudged back to the jury room.

If only you knew .....

that the tears that fell while driving 

the 35 miles home today

were not for me, but for those who had to reveal 

the most intimate and personal details of their lives 

to a group of twelve strangers.

I only hope ...

although I will never know,

that the parties involved in this case

that has been "settled"

will find peace.

Juror #3

August 20, 2015

                                   ***

Change - Helen Rowntree

Change came when I wasn’t watching.

Simple became intricate, complicated, 

Incomprehensible, impossible.

Necessary became dispensable, disposable, forgettable.

Change came when I wasn’t listening.

Cadence, soothing melodies, poetic lyrics,  

Became dissonant, loud, angry, 

Sung by screechers and shouters

Who answer to letters not names.

Change came one day when my pen ran dry.

Letters became Word, then Email, Twitter and Facebook, 

Instant messages, traveling thousands of miles,

Through the air, via the clouds.

Change came when I wasn’t noticing.

Twinge became ache, became pain,

Severe, in a bone, in a joint,

in a muscle I didn’t even know was there.

Change came when I wasn’t looking.

Brown suddenly gray, white, sparse, 

Smooth and taut--now furrowed, loose, 

Clear and distinct--now blurred, opaque.

Change came one day when I went out walking.

Light, fast and steady.

suddenly slow, wobbly, heavy.

Canes and walkers, curiously appeared,

Difficult, unmanageable, indispensable.

  I hope change appears for a few more years. 

                                    ***

   WHITE CATARACT, BLACK CHAMPAGNE
                                             by  John Field         2015

Last night fear came at me

Through an open window

When a rogue cloud

With theatrical ambitions

Out of a science fiction novel

Anchored itself in front of the moon,

Turning the sky

Into a vast inverted glass

Of black champagne,

Each star a stationary bubble.

Quick and intangible as a wink 

The lawn chairs on our patio 

Undid themselves

Like objects in a fever dream 

Remembered but no longer seen, 

And beyond the place

Where our garden used to be

I could just make out

The clean-picked bones

Of a patch of bamboo.

Eventually the rogue cloud

Had someplace better to go 

And the moon cried, 

“Look at me! Look at me! 

Here I am again,

A shiver of light from another era, 

Back again, your heart’s keeper.” 

What I child I was,

Just another false alarm,

But so much of that cataract 

Had settled in my head 

That before I went to bed

I drank a shot of vodka

And took a sleeping pill.

     ***