Day: November 13, 2019

 A guy writes to me about my poem.  
 “Echoes of Whitman”, he says.  
 “Echoes of myself”, I say.  
 Me and the other guy who is also me.  
 I am not just one being, one thought, 
 one copy but an entity of much.  
 Many songs, not just of myself, 
 many marches, none of which I composed.  
 Many parades, some of which I organized 
 are all part of who I am. 
  
 I heard an echo of my own cry.  
 It was a lovely echo, consoling in a way, 
 though, that bothered me.  I enhanced my cry.  
 The echo shouted back in such a way as to rile me.  
 That is more like it, I thought.  
 I want nothing to do with timidity.  
 You go nowhere with it and no one cares.  
 I will walk above the river, not wishing 
 to be lost in its currents for no good purpose.  
 The bridge is a safe place with the advantage of 
 being able to observe and then make decisions. 
  
 I have no longing to be someone else or 
 a decoy set out to attract the real thing.  
 One of my selves is real, so I use pen-names 
 to keep the things of life unsettled.  
 My other selves will speak for themselves.  
  
 My concepts of the high-desert and a marshland, 
 except for the intrinsic differences, 
 may be very much alike.  
 I see the spiritual in both and 
 that is my high-hand or go to in life.  
 I do not wish to use vagueness in 
 an effort to skim over reality.  
 I know the food of the soul 
 just as I know troubled waters.  
 We walk swiftly, me and the other guy, 
 knowing time is so precious.  
 We will not take time to be measured 
 on this perpetual journey.  We know
 Who will be waiting for us.
  
 Stansberry McKricken aka Stanski
 November 13, 2019 ^ 

 If there is a kindred spirit 
 in all living things then it might follow
 that we somehow have an ownership in each other.
 One benefits from another and around we go until we agree,
 to hold ourselves accountable for each other.
  
 A fruit-bearing tree has many facets in its growth;
 each in its order must be protected 
 if there is to be a successful season of harvest.
 Trees may have a kindred spirit
 but timing and discipline are critical.
  
 A man will step outside the framework of discipline
 and attempt to fend for himself.
 He can ask for help when he fails
 even though his action
 came at great cost to others. 
 His next chance will be given, 
 but he must then follow protocol.
  
 These spirits are not moving together.
 Agendas are boundless.
 We must safeguard our sensibility with constant vigilance.
 When a soldier gives his life for his country, 
 we must honor him in such a way
 that we elevate the quality of all life.
  
 We all have a story to tell 
 but it is incumbent on all of us 
 to raise the standards of self-respect, honor and duty.
 We should act soon if we are to have any spirit to act upon.
 What will be left when accountability becomes just a word?
 We must value our existence 
 and become a responsible spirit.
 One who will be kindred to all living things.
  
 Stanski
 November 13, 2019 ^ 

 Sometimes crazy happens
 I go to bed for a nap at 4:30 in the afternoon
 Sleeping deeply I wake at 7:30
 It is very dark
 I hurry to turn on TV
 Check to see if the schools are closed
 There is no indication on the local stations
 I drink a cup of coffee
 Take a fast shower 
 Take my morning medications
 Dress quickly
 Get my computer, printer and modem packed
 My printer needs service
 I have my car warmed up
 Drive carefully into town
 I see the full moon in the eastern sky
 In town the Church is dark
 A few cars in the parking lot
 I presume school is called off
 I drive into town, just two blocks away
 Everything is dark; I check a few signs
 Everybody open at 9AM, but no lights are on
 The Junque man’s clock says 10:15
 He apparently failed to fall back
 I check out 906 Hair Salon
 A few lights are on and the door is open
 I say hello, but no one replies
 I go to the tanning booth and tan for ten minutes
 I dress and wipe down the machine
 Drop the cleaning towel in the laundry basket
 Say hello again and no one answers
 No one is around, so I go outside
 The town appears deserted  
 Looking up I see the beautiful full moon
 Driving up to Verizon I find them closed
 I fill up with gasoline at the station next door
 Checking my phone I see that it is 9:30 PM on the 12th
 I have jumped ahead twelve hours
 Drive home and call police; notify them of the open door
 They thank me and I go back to bed
 The moon is still full and bright
  
 Stanski 
 November 12, 2019 ^