Loss – Elegy for my grandmother

In loving memory, France Farmer (1918-2012)
I like it best in the morning,
when the cool air still
has something new to say
about the day to come.
Yet a little lamp has gone out
in my home today.
I have known it all my life,
and it has grown dark
all of a sudden.

But light comes,
as usual,
dawn is there,
as usual.
And soon everything
is humming and buzzing
as it should.
There is drilling in my street,
like yesterday;
Planes are taking off for
faraway destinations
– Alexandria maybe –
like the day before;
Subway cars are stopping
at their stops and
mothers are shopping
in their shops;
Children, restless,
are bored in school.
Like tomorrow, no doubt;
While you, dearest,
have gone gently
into that good night.

Words for the time being,
have lost all meaning.
All salt. All savour.
Yet listen well:
a murmur – a deep-rooted
A whisper of a friendly wind,
murmurs of a stranger
to stranger yet than she;
‘nothing again
will ever be
the way it was –
because you were:
and so are we.’

So go gently.
Go gently, please,
go gently
and rest,
into that good
morning light.


An unfinished article

Science is a strange kind of
beauty – clear crystal
drops on a jewel blue day;
If you haven’t seen
the folds of equations
the structure of reality
in its pure form;
Then look!
Conceptual endeavour
of the mind behind the shapes,
sense out of non-sense,
hidden structures
abiding by unvented
of the swirling axis
of real…
Mind in the mind,
What possible figure of
can warm the Void,
the Sun shining for unprotected


Meditating in an emergency

My contribution
to meditating in 
an emergency:
This bloody trail,
an ax to grind –
my ambulance
blue and red