Gene, I'm glad to have found my way back here to you. I've missed your writing and this, in particular, feels very "gene" to me. The title sets the stage perfectly as your lean form reveals soft and nearly melancholy frames like shrugged shoulder instances of "oh well." I love the image of too much wine and Sinatra. There is something very humble in your autobiographical sketches that is also very endearing.
You have a beautiful and equisite gift Gene......to speak volumes with one short moment captured in time.....
"high noon I am my own shadow".....
This speaks to me deeply my friend.......
Peace,
Bill :-)
memories, irretrievable segments of our past, teasing twisting reality and our desires to make the truth whatever we wish it to be -- we taunt ourselves unmercifully sometimes in these situations -- our expectations diametrically oppopsed with reality -- as we advance in age, reality can be a harsh adversary we are better off avoiding -- for in confronting, we create new scars that will never heal -- Gene, your recollections of this reunion remind us all of the way it may have been, but probably was not -- this is a most enjoyable diversion my friend -- please keep them rolling off of your pen in our direction -- peace and love -- Jon Michael
Nice work Gene...ashes to ashes and dust to dust...it is the inevitable finality of which we ourselves know the conclusion, to view into the snapshots of life and find who we are is to have lived a life of reward...
Gene, some could talk all evening to say what you said above, and yet, using so few words you let us in to participate for a moment a world of thoughts and intimacy. The strokes of a true Master Poet.
a marvelous conceptual capture, Gene ... upon reading i realized "high noon I am my own shadow" actually separates two tightly interconnected poems ...
Gene,
A poem that tantalizes in many ways, at different levels, the style indicated by the title and true to it, each image a striking, almost remorseful picture and yet without self-indulgence or maudlin self-pity. Ashes may scatter on the wind but this work remains.
John
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on October 18, 2009
I like how this whole poem feels like enhanced Haiku. Wonderful piece Gene.
Hi Gene, these sights and sounds are the same as when I moved back to my hometown after 26 years....snapshots that don't seem so nostalgic. Great write, Gene, thank you for sharing....
Gene, I recently returned from a pre-50th-reunion gathering in northern California wine country where I was reminded that the vines improve with age. Though destined to become "dust in the wind," our dusty old words will nurture future poets. Write on, dear poet.
~leslie
Aged kodachrome wrinkled from crow lines, the tell-tell talons make tracks- <- <- <- <- <- < daguerrotype and tintype...concentrated simplicity of fresh canvas painted with old pigment, Gene...
... a fabulous sprinkling of dust-in-the-wind, Gene, like that old 70s song. Very evocative and I have to go with Julie about the power-punch in "high noon I am my own shadow", but the two tercets previous to that - about the strangeness of faces behind time and growth - hit me, too. Funny how some days we can feel so alien in our known worlds and known others can feel so alien amongst all the familiarity. Beautiful, uncluttered and potent writing, thank you. Kate xx
GENIE: I'VE MISSED YOU. I'VE BEEN BACK FROM TRAVELING 12 DAYS AND BROUGHT MYSELF A GIFT FROM CANADA: WRITER'S BLOCK. THIS POEM , WHOA HOW IT HITS HOME. MY OWN SHADOW AT HIGH NOON. NOW THAT'S A LINE. ALSO, THE RAZING OF THE BUILDING YOUR OWN AGE. OUCH. LIFE. IT HURTS. ASHES, DUST,
THEN THE POETIC SOUNDS OF BUILDING SING, FALSE RHYME WIND, FACE WITH RAZE, THE RAVAGES OF AGE IMPLIED --- YOUR NAME MISSPELLED ON YOUR OWN TREE -- BECAUSE WHAT? BECAUSE YOU HAVE A NEW NAME. YOU ARE NEW, CHANGED, OLDER. DON'T RECOGNIZE THE OLD NAME, MAYBE.
GOOD GOING GENIE. I'M BACK. KICK MY ASS. I NEED TO WRITE. MY BRAIN ISN'T CONSTIPATED; JUST THE FINGERS.
THANKS FOR THIS POIGNANT LOOK AT TIME, OR WHAT MY FRIEND CALLS, SPACE, AND WHAT I INSIST IS MOTION. DOES IT MATTER? YOU CAPTURE THE "IT," THE JOURNEY, THE HARSHNESS OF IT. I KNOW THERE HAVE BEEN, ARE GOOD ASPECTS, BUT ON THIS ASPECT, YOU'VE DONE WELL, I THINK.
I THINK HIGH NOON I AM MY OWN SHADOW WORKS ON TWO LEVELS: AS IN, HIGH TIME, AS IN, IT'S ABOUT TIME ALREADY. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT? ACCEPTANCE AND ALL THAT. THAT ALL MEN ARE ISLANDS NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY. JULIE
I Love The Smell of Cherry Tobaco...
I Love Beards...
you raise good conversation too you know Dear Gene, as I walk with you in your poem wrapping my scarf tighter to the chill of the wind
lets go feed the gulls :)
Peace & Inspirations
Vickie
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"high noon I am my own shadow".....
This speaks to me deeply my friend.......
Peace,
Bill :-)
Cryssa
Carole~
good job ,Gene
high noon I am my own shadow
in clouds of dust
watching wreckers raze a building
the same age I am
The final three lines form the perfect image to express the poem's theme:
scattered on the icy wind
ashes
from my pipe
Enjoyed as always - David
nice...
Art Sun...
Georg
A poem that tantalizes in many ways, at different levels, the style indicated by the title and true to it, each image a striking, almost remorseful picture and yet without self-indulgence or maudlin self-pity. Ashes may scatter on the wind but this work remains.
John
In Spirit,
Bear
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Nicely written as always,
Much peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
~leslie
s
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
THEN THE POETIC SOUNDS OF BUILDING SING, FALSE RHYME WIND, FACE WITH RAZE, THE RAVAGES OF AGE IMPLIED --- YOUR NAME MISSPELLED ON YOUR OWN TREE -- BECAUSE WHAT? BECAUSE YOU HAVE A NEW NAME. YOU ARE NEW, CHANGED, OLDER. DON'T RECOGNIZE THE OLD NAME, MAYBE.
GOOD GOING GENIE. I'M BACK. KICK MY ASS. I NEED TO WRITE. MY BRAIN ISN'T CONSTIPATED; JUST THE FINGERS.
THANKS FOR THIS POIGNANT LOOK AT TIME, OR WHAT MY FRIEND CALLS, SPACE, AND WHAT I INSIST IS MOTION. DOES IT MATTER? YOU CAPTURE THE "IT," THE JOURNEY, THE HARSHNESS OF IT. I KNOW THERE HAVE BEEN, ARE GOOD ASPECTS, BUT ON THIS ASPECT, YOU'VE DONE WELL, I THINK.
I THINK HIGH NOON I AM MY OWN SHADOW WORKS ON TWO LEVELS: AS IN, HIGH TIME, AS IN, IT'S ABOUT TIME ALREADY. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT? ACCEPTANCE AND ALL THAT. THAT ALL MEN ARE ISLANDS NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY. JULIE
I Love Beards...
you raise good conversation too you know Dear Gene, as I walk with you in your poem wrapping my scarf tighter to the chill of the wind
lets go feed the gulls :)
Peace & Inspirations
Vickie