In Hospital

In Hospital

Mark is taking
the last bus to Alpha Centauri.
They play music there
on small instruments
made by hand.
The dogs don’t eat each other.
Twin suns come up
and go down dependably.
There is no need
to be lonely.

Spring in Greece, 2017

Spring colors transformed the islands. Amorgos is especially beautiful. Dmitra is terrific; I’m going to try to paint her from memory and the photo.

Spring in the Cyclades

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Amorgos

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Paros, April

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Sunrise, Parikia, Paros

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coffee time, Paros

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Easter, Folegandros

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Church of Our Lady Pantanassa, Folegandros

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Temple of Apollo, Naxos

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Naxos harbor, early

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caique and nets,
Naxos

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octopus drying, Naxos

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backgammon, Naxos

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Petros Protopapadakis, Naxos, assassinated 3 weeks after assuming presidency

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poppies, whitewashed trees and wall, Amorgos

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Dmitra, outside her small cafe, Amorgos

Treasure

Treasure

Naxos, April sun,
sitting on a rusted
15 foot anchor
before the 10 foot
Petros Protopapadakis:
resolute, resigned,
assassinated three weeks
after accepting the presidency—
whose sweet smile
did he see
in his last moments?

Rounding Past the Solstice

At the next table, the First Windbag discusses his recent successful speech to hundreds of thousands in which he urged global connection and cooperation in the effort against climate change. He has friends who are friends of Al Gore and Richard Branson. His non-profit organization and his website are imminent.

He will accomplish nothing of consequence to anyone else. He is uneasily unhappy. He needs to get small and doesn’t know how or has forgotten. His friend describes a recent conversation with an artist in Washington, D.C.: “I said to him, what good is it?” (art). I left the coffee shop after that, taking a long look at them. Least said, soonest mended.

A mile down the way, the regular musician outside Trader Joe’s was working through “O Come All Ye Faithful” —single violin, bare pavement, traffic, hurrying shoppers, the plain old tune, his red face—I was suddenly fine again. I gave him enough for a bottle of wine.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” We shared a silent moment—equal, small, grateful, if not joyful and triumphant.

 

Beauty

Beauty

Whether it is singing or walking, shimmering or fading, beauty integrates the unique and the universal, our most disparate selves. In its presence we are relieved, reassured, and challenged. There is nothing we do that cannot be done more beautifully.