Une Chute de Vélo
(In France Jeff felt off his bike. Julian and Mia came to the rescue and took him to Urgences.
In urgences, they are used to cyclist coming in with broken collarbones.
Now ‘have patience’, said the nurse.)
Une Chute de Vélo
So quick it cannot be remembered,
Just de-constructed and dismembered.
Exactly how you never know,
All things must change, quick or slow.
In Urgences they know the score,
For cyclists hobbling through their door.
How deftly does l’infermière
Extract me from my kit.
A clean, a scan, a needle prick,
All things must change, slow or quick.
Soyez patient, so I am told,
Seek out the zen-like calm inside.
Wait for brooding bone and tissue
To grant forgiveness for that ride.
“Get on with it” I want to say,
All things must change, just not today.
A welcome and a smile,
And warm air through the door,
Where Howling Wolf is once again,
Down on the Killing Floor.
My waitress she leans forward,
With my coffee and a scone,
And her eyes they say, well how do you like,
Sweet Molly Malone.
Of Heisenberg and Rumsfeld
(with apologies to Wallace Stevens)
A Quantum of no-thing is very very small,
Or it may be a some-thing, or not at all,
A known unknown, in principle uncertain,
It may be coming from heaven or going to hell,
Beyond the curtain,
You can never tell.
Unknown are the unknowns we know too late.
For physicist, poet or potentate,
And all await,
A Quantum of Fate.
To contemplate the nothing that I know?
Or the nothing that remains unknown?
Such thoughts go better with
A glass of Rhône.
A Descent in January
Seize the gift of gravity.
An icy embrace.
Low, behind the trees,
Blackness, piercing light, pulsing.
Cold Sun, shine on me.
(The Mistral is a strong, cold north/northwesterly wind that occurs in Southern France)
Against the Mistral
Random pounding blows.
Absorb them, my course is true.
I am not a leaf.