Archive for March, 2010

SPINOZA, IRENE, LENSES (poem)

Monday, March 29th, 2010

SPINOZA, IRENE, LENSES

My friend Irene had a real fur blanket

big enough to cover both of us

when we pushed our cots together

at summer camp.

It was rescued from Berlin by her parents,

forced to flee in ’38.

Cold now as the snow

when many years ago I lost a silver bracelet

sledding in Central Park with Irene,

I think of Spinoza the Lens-Grinder,

expunged in 1656 by the Amsterdam rabbis

for favoring reason over faith,

a daring break from Jewish tradition,

which might upset the good Burghers

who welcomed Jews forced to flee

Portugal and Spain,

doctors, philosophers, bankers–

as long as they enriched the coffers

and  kept their distance.

Bento, the name Spinoza preferred,

continued to celebrate reason

all the while grinding

the finest of lenses. Sharp enough

to find Irene, her blanket,

the  bracelet, at least to hone

memory’s edges.

SOLITUDE (poem)

Monday, March 29th, 2010

SOLITUDE

Solitude is un-American.

A hostess seats me in a diner’s darkest corner, close to the freezer where

the illegal workers must flee to avoid arrest in the next police raid.

It’s a disease that demands distance and a sterile mask, as if I am a pariah,

a crazy recluse, a mockery of the Judeo-Christian One and Only God.

Doesn’t anyone in America know that Sartre said hell is other people? Thus implying that solitude is paradise.

But that would make it too French. Wordsworth considered it the bliss beheld solely by the inner eye. Too British. The serenity of the solitary fisherman? Definitely un-democratic.

Many confuse it with loneliness: the abandoned mirrors in fitting rooms at 3 a.m., the midnight traffic light whose mates have stopped blinking.

On the jukebox Elvis asks if I’m lonesome tonight.

Not at all, I answer, though nobody hears me. For solitude cannot speak except to itself. Nor can it be smelled or touched. But it can all too easily be disrupted.

Solitude is my muse.

A HISTORY OF TIME IN 10 CHAPTERS (short essay)

Monday, March 29th, 2010

A HISTORY OF TIME IN 10 CHAPTERS

A cigar is a cigar, a rose a rose, time is time.

But unlike roses and cigars, it gives forth neither scent nor stench, meaning nor definition.  At best the mind can divide it using arithmetic and geometry, simple astronomy.

It begins  or does not begin,  ends but does not end, lacks a knowable source though in the imagination it can serve as a source itself, sometimes of consternation, sometimes of delight.

We can think forever about time but cannot touch it.  But all is notlost: we can measure it by knots, ticks and tocks; mark it by chimes, gongs, heartbeats; graph it and arrange it in rows of intricate glyphs.

Rivers flood their banks, dry up; so much for the familiar comparison between time and a river,  justified only by the latter’s one-way flow though Einstein and Hawking would dispute  such an absolute claim, as well the many believers in time as circular. Or illusory.

It cannot fly,  perch itself on hands, march,  creep, be traded like money, get lost,  take sides; despite Ovid’s claim that tempus edax rerum, time cannot devour anything, cannot  be killed or caught in a bucket,  is not a circus, a gypsy, a thief; can be neither out of joint nor “brisk and giddy-paced” (Twelfth Night), much as we would like to think so.

Abstract as space and quarks, marks of time can nonetheless be embedded in concrete matter. Ancient time carvers engraved lunar calendars on eagle bone fragments; notched calendar sticks have been discovered in places diverse as Siberia and Malaysia, the Maya and Aztecs were expert at embodying time in stone.

Long ago Father Time died, a wizened old man who had abandoned his family, taking up with a younger woman who worshipped him at first but wanted more sex, less paternalistic wisdom.  His wife, not to be confused with Mother Time, took up rhythmic dancing, his children transformed themselves to metronomes to keep her performance in line.

Mother Time, a distant relative of the Old Woman in the Shoe, constantly gives birth to low-entropy baby multiverses, according to Sean Carroll, author of From Eternity to Here: The Quest of  the Ultimate Theory of Time. She often insists on her full surname, Mother Space-Time.

The dead are likely free from time, except for the memories of the living, which rarely endure past two generations.

***

QUESTION MARKS

Monday, March 29th, 2010

QUESTION MARKS

The dead embody questions that defy answers

no matter how often we might ask, no matter

how trivial, like what was our neighbor’s name

when we lived in Boston, or how frantic: did you

really love me, or only your own desires?

Not so different, after all, from the living

who with few exceptions hide their own questions

in their minds’ attics, the impossible questions:

why was I born, what is time, fate, truth–

retrieving the boxes only when their mildew

so overwhelms they must toss the collections

down some dark pit where unsolved riddles repose

with forgotten names, gods and fossils,

the dots that marked the ends of old assertions.

CHINESE NEW YEAR PARADE, PARIS, 2010

Monday, March 1st, 2010

CHINESE NEW YEAR PARADE, PARIS, 2010

Bamboo sticks suspended mid-air,

les batteurs are frozen,

along with their red drums.

The cymbal players too

and the girls in sleeveless red and yellow frocks;

from the exhaled breaths

of spectators along le Rue de Payenne

coils of smoke constantly create

a double helix with the streams of ice

from congealed firecrackers, hover

high as the balconies where a few residents

peer out, their eyes becoming distant stars.

Only the dragon moves, slithers with no end in sight,

blocking the street so none can escape.

I fear I will suffer a morte de froid

(O it sounds so much better in French! )

hands stiffening despite three sets of gloves.

When will a gong ring out to end

this cauchemar, this dream that might not be

a dream at all.