Monday, December 13, 2010

Living in the Same Sentence

Allegra Silberstein dances at Davis Art Center
at her 80th birthday party
—Photo by Trina Drotar, Sacramento

—Paul Lojeski, Port Jefferson, NY

I could confuse you
as easily as I have
been confused
by songs sung
in treetops
and concert halls
in misty mornings
and disturbing nights
but what would be
the fun in that? when
we’re all living
in the same sentence,
anyway, letters
and punctuation
but boats bobbing
on these rough,
salty seas.


Thanks, Paul for today's poetry, and thanks to Trina Drotar for the photo of Davis Poet Laureate Allegra Silberstein dancing for the Davis Art Center party and reading that was given in her honor last Saturday on the occasion of her 80th birthday. Trina writes: It was a lovely evening. Several people read at open mic, a tribute to Allegra, for sure. Her grandson, Harrison, read the final open mic piece of the night. It was really a lovely time, and Allegra was most gracious.

I see the Friends of the Packard Library of Yuba County read 180 of Emily Dickinson's poems in public on her birthday last Friday as a fundraiser (and consciousness-raiser). They read in a bar, a diner, a gas station, a shoe repair shop, a bank, a laundromat and on a commute bus carrying state workers to Sacramento. Bless them for bringing poetry to the people! (And bless Carlos Alcala of The Sacramento Bee for bringing it to our attention.)


—Paul Lojesky

I imagine a herd
of buffalo,
miles long
and miles wide,
grazing together
on moonlit
grasses, not yet
in the sights
of our slaughter.
Now we're
the herd moving
not grandly, though,
as one across
verdant plains
but as a sea
of tornadoes
each loosed upon
its own twisted


—Paul Lojesky

The kill team boys
took fingers
of their victims
home in calfskin
pouches to show
wives and girl-
friends back in South
Carolina and Illinois
what victory
truly looked like.


—Paul Lojesky

The blues stretched
blue across Monterey
Bay to Monterey,
with surfers and seals
off the crowded
summer beach
in blue water
through the wall
of windows at Tom’s
house, at Tom’s

Oh, Joni would
loved to have
jammed in
this California
house and sad
Richard Brautigan
would’ve been
rescued and re-
inspired here
but now it’s just
three old men
staring at gulls
and kids running
the sand in blue
air by Tom’s
house, by Tom’s

Maybe you’re lucky,
too, and you’ve got
your own Tom’s house
somewhere where
you stare in wonder
at the world and for
a moment breathe
safety and surprise
and know what
could’ve been
had we chosen
that blue, blue path,
the one dreaming
sweetly at Tom’s
house, at Tom’s


Today's LittleNip: 

—Paul Lojesky

Those who mind
least their living
wish most for life
after death.



Manhattan skyline taken from
Paul's old apartment in Hoboken
—Photo by Paul Lojesky