Saturday, 6 November 2021

I Know a Soft Soul

I know a soft soul, a soul
soft like cashmere and cotton
kitten fur and mulberry silk and puffy clouds
vicuna shawls and rum butter
lullabies and faraway music carried on the wind

soft and warm and perfect like
the hair on a newborn baby’s head,
to hold such a soul in your arms
brings the universe to a halt and
calls out everything delicate and careful in you

we must stand in the doorway quietly
we must speak in whispers
we must carve a path in the rock of the world for this
with dynamite and bulldozers
with us in hardhats yelling at contractors
with canons and cavalries and battleships
mercilessly and
without a hint of softness

Saturday, 20 November 2021

Un-brella

a story for kids

“Would you like to borrow my un-brella?” said Lucy, stepping next to Foggerty under the eaves of the schoolhouse. “It might improve your recess experience.”

“You mean umbrella,” said Foggerty, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose as he looked down at his toes. Drops of water ran down the thick lenses.

“Nope,” said Lucy. “An umbrella will only keep rain off you. Boring! An un-brella is much better. It’s just as fashionable as a regular umbrella, but it channels the water onto your head to help wash your hair. That’s two uses in one.”

Foggerty wasn’t sure what to make of the new girl. The other kids at school usually didn’t talk to him. That was because he was shy and he didn’t like looking into people’s eyes, which made it hard to make friends. At recess he usually climbed on the monkey bars all by himself. This new girl didn’t yet know he was the class reject.

“So do you want it?” asked Lucy.

“It looks like it’s just an umbrella that leaks,” said Foggerty.

Lucy snorted. “Don’t be silly. I cut those holes myself. They’re in just the right place so that the water drips only onto my hair. I’m a scientist, so I’m very precise about such things.”

Indeed, Lucy’s curly brown hair was wet as a mop, but the rest of her was dry.

She handed Foggerty her un-brella.

“If I borrow it, what will you use?”

“This.”

She pulled a small green cloth from her jeans pocket.

“It’s a de-un-brella,” she said, laying it over the top of her hair. “It does the exact opposite. It keeps your hair dry while allowing the rest of you to get soaked. It only works for a few minutes, though. Water eventually gets through it.”

“Maybe you should try plastic.”

“How come you’re looking at the ground so hard? I’m over here, not down there. Are you some kind of freakball?”

Foggerty didn’t know what that was but it sounded bad. He shrugged.

“I hope you are one,” continued Lucy, “because I’m a freakball, and I’m looking for more. No offense to the un- freakballs, of course, but freakballs are more interesting. So are you one?”

Foggerty thought about it.

“I guess I’m a de-un-freakball.”

A smile crossed Lucy’s face.

“Perfect! I’ve always wanted to meet a de-un-freakball. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Lucy put out her hand for Foggerty to shake. He thought maybe she was making fun of him, but finally he shook it.

Lucy said, “Do you want to try my newest invention? It’s an anti-de-un-brella.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s where we run straight out into the rain and just let it get us wet, our hair and clothes and all. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him out from under the eaves. They ran to the monkey bars and climbed them together, and they didn’t mind the rain.

Wednesday, 24 November 2021

the war at the football field

Once there was a war declared between the landscapers and the football players.

the football players chose the day and place and they prepared.

              they knew how to launch assaults and plot sneak attacks.

              they had honed their aggression through years of team sports

                            into a masterwork of hustle and hate, and built up their bodies

                                          with groaning and strain under bent bars on benches

                                                        until they attained the weight of all things frightening and needy.

the landscapers were clearly outmatched…

but alas, on the day of the bout, before the assault could even get started,

              it came to a halt! it was done! it ended.

the football players departed and by default the landscapers won;

              no war could go forward in that torrent of weeds, for

                            someone

                                          had left the playing field untended.