they sang like paired lovebirds
bearing heart and soul in battles
ending alone in the winner's circle
twins halved, the rowdy crowd cheering
somewhat like modern gladiators
without the grimy sweat

I, a lone spectator behind my screen
cried often, wanting ever so much
to share in their revelry
only the words always get stuck
in the choked emotions behind my smile


[2012.31.3...b]

on the other hand, presently
I will pen prose word for thirty days
in ways that weigh on my inner self
purging secrets like quiet antibiotics
the doctor ordered against my will
this forced march towards myself
leaves a chill in the indoor air
maybe I need a lady in waiting
to plump my pillows, easing my comfort
before my lord returns from overseas
otherwise, I remain steadfast
a mobile part of my interior still life


[2012.31.3...c]

where do the birds go when starlight arrives?
does the same sunset flee towards the west
gaining in intensity as it goes?
or do artists mix the colors as imagination's wish
when the cruise ship leaves port without them?


[2012.31.3...d]

first, close your eyes
darken the room, choose a favorite pillow
tee-shirt, pajamas, or lie naked
remember your childhood prayers or the stories
read to you until the sandman left his offering
yes, close your eyes, don't squint
because the red circles won't bring sea sounds
gentle breezes or the lullaby to be dreamed
in a few minutes...


[2012.31.3...e]

I'm currently listening to "30 seconds to Mars" on Deezer.com. Their "This is War" album. Not sure how I like them. I fell in love with "Alibi" this morning. It seems to be the exceptional song.

But no, the rest of the album is OK but not worth listening to a second time.

I have not started a 2012 Poetry Folder in my computer. I've written most of what I've written on my iPad where everything is stored. My small stones will make excellent starting points for larger poetic items, but right now I'm just not interested in writing.

I will improvise however for the joy of at least one of my regular readers.

It would be a fall-proof balcony for my little Gao. But I'm out of ideas that I can realize by myself which means he and I will have to go outdoors on his harness and leash.

Don't know what I'll go when the hot weather gets here and I need to keep the windows opened all night to rid the apartment of the day's heat. Because of my outdoor shutters, it seems impossible to install screens which would attach to the spot on the window frame where the shutters are.

I WISH I had majored in HandyMan Skills. I'm a disaster at doing anything else with my hands than playing the piano.
But we all know where that's gone lately.
Draino, anyone?

listening to beautiful boys sing, all the while the sky fights between haze and blue, my souls beckons even though success eludes me, its randomness has pushed me beyond a stacked deck of lottery odds where I never have winning numbers
I tick off dates on a wall-sized calendar
years have gone by
more follow chronologically
I walk the edge of insanity, it engulfs me, like tsunami waters, in the murky topography of an aging drone, I cannot sing, there are even cracks in my voice where years of tears
have left grey stains


beautiful boys and blue haze
[2010.27.3...a]

Dear Family and Friends
In Real and Virtual Lands

It has been ten weeks now since I’ve been on school vacation. Too long. I’ve spent all this time in Paris, with a cool fall-like summer that had a mere handful of truly lovely warm/hot days.

Today it’s a lovely, blue-skied fall day. After a mega-storm last night that flooded my kitchen floor via the rotting wood on the French doors leading to the balcony, the temps dropped considerably and the apartment needed heat – not the first time in the last three months, alas — for a half hour — to take off the night’s chill. For those of you do not remember, my apartment building is facing north and living on the top floor with no insulation in the eaves above me, the apartment chills quickly.

For the second time in four months, actually twice this week, Pierre was here. He left this morning for a pre-excavation session in Bahrain where he will be for the next ten days. He is slowly but surely getting to know my new kitten Gao (again for those of you not reading my blog space on Writing.Com or my page on FaceBook) who I adopted in June. He’s a black and white lover-boy who purrs all the time and daily contests my status as Alpha Cat. He recently put two lovely holes in my right thumb, which, combined with my chronic tendonitis and budding arthrosis of both thumbs, has given me yet another reason to abandon my 75-90 minutes of daily piano practice. I say daily, but there have been periods over the last ten weeks that I have been literally unable to do anything – write on the computer or iPad and play the piano.

All of the preceding explain why no one has heard from me in quite a long time. Typing in a quick update on FaceBook or posting new photos of Gao Cat (gao is Chinese for “tall” and his adoptive family’s choice for a name) does not tire my right hand. Already I’ve been at this letter fifteen minutes and it’s showing signs of fatigue. I’ve made it my project today to finish and mail this letter to all interested in the same light many of my family members send out regular “Dear Family” letters, either monthly or annually.

I am sorry not to have the strength in my hand to personalize anything for the time being. But I’m certain you will all agree that broad general news is better than silence.

It was back in October of 2010 that my second (and last) physical therapist (who I have seen almost weekly since that date) emitted a diagnosis of my hand and elbow problems as tendonitis. This has been confirmed by my general practitioner and a series of x-rays. Even though I had made my osteopath aware of these painful areas three years earlier, he, a double bass and percussion player used to the same kind of strain a pianist puts on his hands, did not seem to think there could be anything wrong with my muscular system, insisting that the problems were a nasty extension of my scoliosis and it’s repercussions on my skeleton. I stopped seeing that doctor, after almost five years of care, two years ago this month.

Anyway, it’s been two years now since my first physical therapist evaluated my leg length and determined that I do indeed have one longer than the other and has prescribed shoe inserts which have helped enormously stabilizing my back and pelvis. No cure, mind you, but a distinct help.

Massage and regular “torture” over the last 11 months have greatly helped my right forearm/wrist/elbow structure, but once a problem has been allowed (for whatever reason) to become chronic, there is not a lot one can do for a cure. 11 months has been a long time, and during this period I have all but stopped playing the piano for professional reasons. I tinker around with my left hand as much as I can during classes with my students, but this school year I have abandoned all of my choral accompanying responsibilities as my hand cannot play using force, extension (playing over a six-note span) or multiple notes.

Both PT have given me exercises to strengthen my back, thus affecting the dorsal region where I still have tension which boomerangs down to my wrist. Medication helps the arthrosis in the base of my two thumbs, and that problem, while sometimes painful, does not keep me away from the piano. My tummy has become a bit more muscled instead of “overgrown” although I am not carrying any extra weight for my height. I have limbered up my back sufficiently to have less and less problems, all of which will eventually help alleviate additional stress on my arms.

But, as I have already said, 11 months is not a long time to efficiently deal with this kind of problem.

I’m sorry not to have much positive to say. My poetry writing has all but come to a stand still, and for three months this year, both Pierre and I truly believed our relationship had come to its end. Over the last month only have we begun to successfully piece together the broken parts after 14 years and both of us are once more hopeful concerning our future.

Gao has been a godsend through these last months of solitude. Not being able to do much more at the piano other than do my scales and five-finger exercises and occasionally get as far as my nine etudes, I can certainly no longer merely sit at the piano and play what would normally sooth my heart. So, I’ve become once again (although the days of Shadow, Esterelle and Pistache ended in 2001) a PapaCat.

We had a nasty scare on the 24th of July when he fell from my fourth floor balcony. He spent two days in the vet hospital and ended up with only a fracture on his upper jaw, which gives him a slightly lopsided smile! I had trained him for two weeks previously with his leash, so that he could learn to look over the edge of the balcony and learn about balancing on pots of plants, etc. That particular Sunday it was warm and balmy (not one of the summer’s hot days…) and after an hour reading on the stoop of the French doors from my bedroom while he was busy at the other end by the kitchen, I thought all was OK. He’d mastered the balcony with his leash, and although this was not the first time he had been there without the leash, it was the first time that whenever he changed sides of the balcony I followed him like a mother hen to keep him from spending too much time looking at the sidewalk below.

So, over the edge he went. The most plausible reason is that he was scared by a sparrow and tried to give a paw swipe between the iron railing bars, and over he went. I looked up just as I saw his white belly go overboard, and we were at the vet’s ten minutes later. I have never been to have chosen the vet three blocks away with an emergency service at night and on Sundays!

He’s fine now, but no longer goes out on the balcony. I’m certain he remembers and would shy away from the edge, because there are places in the apartment he can climb up onto, but he refuses to jump down directly to the floor from those one meter eighty heights. And this seems to tell me he’s learned to be afraid of heights. But I’m not taking any more chances until he’s big enough so his shoulders can no longer fit between the railing bars.

I start teaching in two days. YEAH! To replace my former five hours of choral accompaniment, I have begun what I’m calling 4-hand Workshops. But that means also being at the conservatory daily from Tuesday to Saturday. I’m idally hoping for four students per each hour’s workshop (currently there are four programmed into my schedule), and the object is to teach them the joys of playing with another musician. I’m also hoping that this project will be successful and that I can eventually reduce my teaching hours to include more Workshop hours. The Workshops will begin with the four students divided into pairs; eventually I hope that each student will be able to play at least one piece with each of the three other partners in their hour. It’s all new to me, as I’ve played little four-hand repertoire in my life. There is a myriad of pieces to choose from, and I’ve downloaded many free PDF files from the internet.

So, I have a new project. And I’m starting a new year, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s got to be better than the last one! I can’t have a second year like I did from September 2010 to now.

Here’s hoping you are all well.
I won’t promise anything, but will try to send out a Dear Family and Friends letter more frequently than just once a year.

Love to all,
alfred