Monday, February 23, 2026

WE THE MAD


"We're all mad here"
Said the Cheshire Cat
And everywhere I look
Corroborates the statement

Mad as a hatter
We all thrash about
Hating, swearing
Resorting to violence

Lawless abandon
Rules the day
Was it really ever
Otherwise?

Cracking heads
As the punchline
Minds reeling
Tongues spinning

Power to the people
Who can afford
To buy it
Sufferance to the rest

Lies hold sway
Crushing any truth
Like a scary spider
Denouncing any questions

On and on we go
Never reaching that
Light at the end
Is it just illusion?

Monday, January 5, 2026

Elegy for Mom (read at her memorial)


Once upon a time there was a dreamer who had a hard time finding her way in the real world. She worked hard, but was still too young when she gave birth to another dreamer.
She sang to him, took him to movies when he was still a baby, later reading to him. She taught him to read and write.
She encouraged his writing and performing.
Life was always rather messy, and chaotic, as she searched for a "safe place", tho' she could not create it, as it contradicted her independent, gypsy nature.
Into her constantly rotating orbit came my sister Lysa, and brother Adam. We became a team as Mom dragged us hither and thither.
Mom had a difficult love life, her romantic ideals being disappointed.
Then, having entered middle age, she met Phil. He became the string to her kite. Their children having grown and gone their own ways helped them focus on their life together.
Going back and forth between Hawaii and California, and travelling abroad proved to be a comfortable lifestyle.
They spent over 30 years together, until Phil's sad passing. Mom became reliant on help from others as her own health deteriorated, especially my sister Lysa, who took on the heavy responsibility of Mom's various needs. Lysa is one of the strongest people I've ever known, and her sharp and pragmatic mind has helped us all over the decades.
It is always hard to sum up a life. Mom long threatened to write her autobiography, but while she was a good writer, her forte was more in the old oral tradition. She could spin a yarn with the best bards.