Beneath my favorite gnarled oak
in Niskey cemetery,
I think on the tombstones
etched with eroded names.
in Niskey cemetery,
I think on the tombstones
etched with eroded names.
Chill air moans
through the bare branches
as a last maroon leaf
through the bare branches
as a last maroon leaf
falls, bleeds down, a fragile tear
withered by the frost of the season.
With one hand on the earth
and my other on my heart,
I reach for the breathing
of lives gone before.
and my other on my heart,
I reach for the breathing
of lives gone before.
How I wish to sleep
the sweet peace
of those below,
wrapped in shadows
so soon forgotten.
the sweet peace
of those below,
wrapped in shadows
so soon forgotten.
On an exhale
I'd gladly exchange
my breath with the dead
who wish
for rekindled remembrance.
I'd gladly exchange
my breath with the dead
who wish
for rekindled remembrance.
Then, passing into the void
I'd watch them for a moment
walking again
meeting loves left behind.
<>and I would
smile
I'd watch them for a moment
walking again
meeting loves left behind.
at last.
Valerie Noir
WHERE THE VANISHING POINTS COME TOGETHER
Seemingly parallel slants of light
through your Venetian blinds
strike late-afternoon bands amber-golden
on the mosaic tabletop – a relic
brought from Palermo; and on the teapot
that sits upon it, fine china with motif
of a rearing dragon, said to date
from some long-ago dynasty. And already
the sun has moved its point of light
that briefly inscribes spoked rays
between the blinds; ignites gold
on the dragon’s tongue; reflects off
tesserae gilded in Byzantine manner
translated to Italian – all these
seemingly parallel lines through space
and time, steeped with oolong leaves
in the deep-bellied teapot
gathering memories like a history
of late afternoons of conversation
vanishing together in yet another
golden sunset.
TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE
Head southeast out of town.
At the bottom of the downgrade
with the “Watch for Falling Rock”
sign and hairpin vistas
of granite cliffs on the other side
of canyon, and the mangled
guardrail where somebody didn’t
make it, you’ll descend at last
to the river. Get over that.
The bridge washed out last winter
but they fixed it.
Next comes the “through the woods”
part. Tunnels of trees. Climb
past scattered houses – OK,
cabins with junked cars clinging
to the edge of chip-seal. Keep
driving to the crossroads;
seven miles to the little saloon
with 13 pickups parked outside
and a sheriff enroute. Turn left.
After half a mile, give up
pavement. Downshift on gravel.
When you reach the ridgetop,
park anywhere. Don’t expect
the lights to be on for you.
A winter storm knocks out
the power. There’ll be
an iron pot on the woodstove,
dinner by hurricane lantern.
Onions to dice and oak rounds
to chop. Did you think Grandma
just invited you for tea?
“MAN SUFFERS FROM RARE WEREWOLF DISEASE”
from the tabloids
An ordinary man, he stares
into the leafy depths
at the bottom of his tea.
These dregs of morning
for the survivors of sleep.
What to wear
that’s tough enough for daylight?
Better run naked in rough fur;
at the first strike
of the alarm-
clock,
better to run
for the dark.
Taylor Graham
Photographs
from Bruce Reeves
from Valerie Noir
WHERE THE VANISHING POINTS COME TOGETHER
Seemingly parallel slants of light
through your Venetian blinds
strike late-afternoon bands amber-golden
on the mosaic tabletop – a relic
brought from Palermo; and on the teapot
that sits upon it, fine china with motif
of a rearing dragon, said to date
from some long-ago dynasty. And already
the sun has moved its point of light
that briefly inscribes spoked rays
between the blinds; ignites gold
on the dragon’s tongue; reflects off
tesserae gilded in Byzantine manner
translated to Italian – all these
seemingly parallel lines through space
and time, steeped with oolong leaves
in the deep-bellied teapot
gathering memories like a history
of late afternoons of conversation
vanishing together in yet another
golden sunset.
TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE
Head southeast out of town.
At the bottom of the downgrade
with the “Watch for Falling Rock”
sign and hairpin vistas
of granite cliffs on the other side
of canyon, and the mangled
guardrail where somebody didn’t
make it, you’ll descend at last
to the river. Get over that.
The bridge washed out last winter
but they fixed it.
Next comes the “through the woods”
part. Tunnels of trees. Climb
past scattered houses – OK,
cabins with junked cars clinging
to the edge of chip-seal. Keep
driving to the crossroads;
seven miles to the little saloon
with 13 pickups parked outside
and a sheriff enroute. Turn left.
After half a mile, give up
pavement. Downshift on gravel.
When you reach the ridgetop,
park anywhere. Don’t expect
the lights to be on for you.
A winter storm knocks out
the power. There’ll be
an iron pot on the woodstove,
dinner by hurricane lantern.
Onions to dice and oak rounds
to chop. Did you think Grandma
just invited you for tea?
“MAN SUFFERS FROM RARE WEREWOLF DISEASE”
from the tabloids
An ordinary man, he stares
into the leafy depths
at the bottom of his tea.
These dregs of morning
for the survivors of sleep.
What to wear
that’s tough enough for daylight?
Better run naked in rough fur;
at the first strike
of the alarm-
clock,
better to run
for the dark.
Taylor Graham
Short Story
A short, true-life story.
In Phoenix, Arizona, a 26-year-old
mother stared down at her son, who was dying of a terminal disease.
Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up, and fulfill all of his dreams.
Now, this dream was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But, she still wanted her son's dreams to come true.
The young mother took her son's hand and asked: "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be, once you grew up? Did you ever dream, and wish about what you would do with your life?"
The little boy replied: "Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireperson, when I grew up."
Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true."
Later that day, she visited the local fire department, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as the size of Phoenix.
The mother shared her son's final wish, and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride, around the block, on a real fire engine. Fireman Bob gave the young mother a warm, compassionate smile, and replied: Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven 'clock, on Wednesday morning, we'll make Billy an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all of the fire calls, and we'll go the whole nine yards!"
"And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat, engraved with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department, complete with a yellow slicker like we wear, and rubber boots."
Fireman Bob continued: "The uniform, that, slicker, and boots all manufactured right here, in Phoenix, so we can get them right away."
Three days later, Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform, and escorted the little boy, from his hospital bed, to the waiting Hook-and-Ladder truck.
Billy sat on the back of the truck, and helped steer the fire engine, all the way back to the fire station.
To Billy, he was already in Heaven!
There were three fire calls in Phoenix, that day, and Billy got to go out on all three calls. The little boy was able to ride in the fire engine, the paramedic's van, and even in the firechief's car.
Billy was videotaped, and appeared on television advertisements, recruiting fire personnel and volunteers. He was even interviewed for the local radio station and newspaper, telling his exciting story on a featured newscast, which was subsequently picked up by the national news and entertainment media.
This experience, which became the little boy's dream-come-true, is a story of how love works -- and, for those who believe, is an example of how God performs miracles.
While God is able to act quite well, without us, He or She chooses to use us to perform great miracles (Billy believed that God is "a little like my mom and a little bit like Fireman Bob").
Miracles can be small -- and don't necessarily happen, by walking on water, by moving mountains, or by parting the seas. Quite often, God's miracles come in small packages, like the size of that little boy.
According to Billy, God can be as feminine as He or She is masculine, and represents both the male and female gender equally. Some believe that God arrives through Jesus--but, in fact, Billy says that God arrives through various avenues and belief systems. And, indeed, God does represent the whosoever, anyone who chooses to believe. God truly loves us, does not punish us, and does not force us to believe.
Having his dream-come-true, and receiving all of the love that was freely lavished upon him, deeply touched Billy's heart. And, if you do believe in such miracles, there is no doubt that this was the reason the little boy lived beyond the expectations of medical science.
One night, all of Billy's vital signs began to drop dramatically--and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept, would not allow Billy to die alone. The little boy did not believe in Jesus, but was comforted by Spiritual Angels.
When asked, Billy confirmed that this was the way he saw God.
The head nurse proceeded to call Billy's family members—and Fireman Bob, Billy's Spiritual Angel.
Along with Billy's family members, Fireman Bob appeared in full uniform, as the little boy made his transition from what Billy called the "local fire station," to the "fire station beyond."
As Billy passed on to that "fire station beyond," he watched as Engine One arrived, to be transported to the "scene of the next fire" (using Billy's exact words).
And, indeed, if you do share Billy’s belief, Billy is "putting out fires in Heaven" (again using Billy's exact words). In fact, according to Billy, this may be the reason why day turns to night, and we need time to slumber.
Taking his last breath, Billy looked up at Fireman Bob, and the little boy asked: "Am I really a fireperson now?" Fireman Bob responded: "Yes you are, Billy -- and the Head Firechief is holding your hand."
The little boy peacefully smiled, saying: "I know. The Head Chief has been giving me teddy-bear hugs all day, he's holding my hand right now, and the angels are singing."
With that, Billy closed his eyes--and the fire engine, outside of Billy's hospital room window, waited to transport the little boy to the "fire station beyond."
Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up, and fulfill all of his dreams.
Now, this dream was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But, she still wanted her son's dreams to come true.
The young mother took her son's hand and asked: "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be, once you grew up? Did you ever dream, and wish about what you would do with your life?"
The little boy replied: "Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireperson, when I grew up."
Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true."
Later that day, she visited the local fire department, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as the size of Phoenix.
The mother shared her son's final wish, and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride, around the block, on a real fire engine. Fireman Bob gave the young mother a warm, compassionate smile, and replied: Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven 'clock, on Wednesday morning, we'll make Billy an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all of the fire calls, and we'll go the whole nine yards!"
"And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat, engraved with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department, complete with a yellow slicker like we wear, and rubber boots."
Fireman Bob continued: "The uniform, that, slicker, and boots all manufactured right here, in Phoenix, so we can get them right away."
Three days later, Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform, and escorted the little boy, from his hospital bed, to the waiting Hook-and-Ladder truck.
Billy sat on the back of the truck, and helped steer the fire engine, all the way back to the fire station.
To Billy, he was already in Heaven!
There were three fire calls in Phoenix, that day, and Billy got to go out on all three calls. The little boy was able to ride in the fire engine, the paramedic's van, and even in the firechief's car.
Billy was videotaped, and appeared on television advertisements, recruiting fire personnel and volunteers. He was even interviewed for the local radio station and newspaper, telling his exciting story on a featured newscast, which was subsequently picked up by the national news and entertainment media.
This experience, which became the little boy's dream-come-true, is a story of how love works -- and, for those who believe, is an example of how God performs miracles.
While God is able to act quite well, without us, He or She chooses to use us to perform great miracles (Billy believed that God is "a little like my mom and a little bit like Fireman Bob").
Miracles can be small -- and don't necessarily happen, by walking on water, by moving mountains, or by parting the seas. Quite often, God's miracles come in small packages, like the size of that little boy.
According to Billy, God can be as feminine as He or She is masculine, and represents both the male and female gender equally. Some believe that God arrives through Jesus--but, in fact, Billy says that God arrives through various avenues and belief systems. And, indeed, God does represent the whosoever, anyone who chooses to believe. God truly loves us, does not punish us, and does not force us to believe.
Having his dream-come-true, and receiving all of the love that was freely lavished upon him, deeply touched Billy's heart. And, if you do believe in such miracles, there is no doubt that this was the reason the little boy lived beyond the expectations of medical science.
One night, all of Billy's vital signs began to drop dramatically--and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept, would not allow Billy to die alone. The little boy did not believe in Jesus, but was comforted by Spiritual Angels.
When asked, Billy confirmed that this was the way he saw God.
The head nurse proceeded to call Billy's family members—and Fireman Bob, Billy's Spiritual Angel.
Along with Billy's family members, Fireman Bob appeared in full uniform, as the little boy made his transition from what Billy called the "local fire station," to the "fire station beyond."
As Billy passed on to that "fire station beyond," he watched as Engine One arrived, to be transported to the "scene of the next fire" (using Billy's exact words).
And, indeed, if you do share Billy’s belief, Billy is "putting out fires in Heaven" (again using Billy's exact words). In fact, according to Billy, this may be the reason why day turns to night, and we need time to slumber.
Taking his last breath, Billy looked up at Fireman Bob, and the little boy asked: "Am I really a fireperson now?" Fireman Bob responded: "Yes you are, Billy -- and the Head Firechief is holding your hand."
The little boy peacefully smiled, saying: "I know. The Head Chief has been giving me teddy-bear hugs all day, he's holding my hand right now, and the angels are singing."
With that, Billy closed his eyes--and the fire engine, outside of Billy's hospital room window, waited to transport the little boy to the "fire station beyond."
"Fly on the wings of limitless mastery. Escape the shrouded
cocoon, and
become the enchanting butterfly."
become the enchanting butterfly."
-- Michael Levy, PointOfLife.com
Photographs
from Bruce Reeves
from Valerie Noir
Yes, issue 69
is at the end. You've reach the bottom of the page and its time
to rest and look out your window, hopefully with a nice hot cup of
tea. I started with tea and I finish with the same wonderful
liquid. It's late so I'll be drinking herbal tea, perhaps a nice
peppermint.
So the next issue is either romance or the cosmos, you decide. I'm going to be waiting for a starry night for my influence.
As always the work is copyright by the various creators, respect their rights. My personal words are copyright by me.
I will be happy to read your email. Send them to abovegroundtesting@yahoo.com
See you next month
So the next issue is either romance or the cosmos, you decide. I'm going to be waiting for a starry night for my influence.
As always the work is copyright by the various creators, respect their rights. My personal words are copyright by me.
I will be happy to read your email. Send them to abovegroundtesting@yahoo.com
See you next month