the ice melts
in the glass
of Black Bush
and my mind
like the ice
dissolves
into memories
of shared bottles
of old friends
of time past
and oh how brief
ice lasts
in a glass
life
the questions
there is a world
out there
beyond the window screen
and as he feels
the breeze brush his face
on this mild winter day
he wonders
what would life be like
outside the safety
of this house
and the cat
looks back
at me
as if I had
all the answers
to all the questions
in both of our heads
oh little boat
have courage
oh little boat
riding the current
on this raging river
heading out
to sea
unfinished business
it can be called
unfinished business
though business
is not the word
I would prefer
the letters unanswered
the phone calls ignored
those messages unopened
on apps neglected
’tis the season
these take on
an urgency
they lack eleven months
a year
the past the present
converging once more
and I must consider
what to leave behind
what to take forward
into the new year
waiting
just outside
my door
from a line by Wang Wan: the year ages
time moves on
one can’t resist it
muscles no longer as strong
as in my youth
the joints creak
less hair to blow
in that restless wind
the year ages
as do I
thankful still
for another day
a month a year
the gift of living
so grateful to accept
this day
again
with a nod to David Wiffen via Tom Rush along Route 66 of my mind
lost somewhere
in a desert landscape
this old car
of mine
lost its drivin’ wheel
and I’ll be late
for supper
by two days
or more
once again
other plans
light filters in
this new morning
after wind after rain
the night before
I put aside the book
I was reading
and try to rise
but the cat
firmly anchored
in my lap
refuses to let me go
ah life
like this cat
has other plans
for me
too
That’s life by Orhan Veli Kanık
This house had a dog, curly
Called Dingdong–who curled up and died.
There was a cat too: Bluey,
She disappeared.
The daughter got married,
The son finished school.
All these bittersweet things
Happened in a year!
They all just happened like that . . .
That’s life.
translated by George Messo
taking a cue from Wang An-shih: self-portrait
It’s been ages since I looked
so long in a mirror
as I did today
contemplating shaving
the grey stubble
on my chin
my cheeks
and wondered
how I came to be
this one
I set out
so long ago
to be
across the floor
the cat
chases a ball
across the floor
the bell tinkles
he rushes forth
oh how easy
to chase a ball
across the floor
