The Plague Diaries and the Annals of the New Utopia (IFT)

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Someday [from the Dark Days, before the New Utopia]



My mistress’ eyes are nothing like a gun—
and yet, her trigger finger's fine and sure.
The rules say—"keep a distance!"—it's no fun.
We've learned to keep our motivations pure.

One cannot speak of love unless one learns
forgotten arts and skills. Until then, speak
of hearts as knives and pain. Cold action earns
respect, while love unearned is for the weak.

The ones who want to live will follow rules.
These rules don't speak of love—what it might mean—
our lessons learned through loneliness. No schools
could teach the love we've lost. Just what we've seen

ourselves is to be trusted—we're not dumb.
Survive for now, and someday love will come.

---
BrianIs AtYou

[Dunc]

Brian

To the moon, Alice starts off with an all-but-perfect photo, the whole thing in a shot. Then you celebrate them with your rhyme and rhythm. Yea!

Gedanken ─ I love this territory, and your S4 is a masterpiece of indeterminacy, possibly the last (inexpressible) word on the subject.

Someday is right on target, well formed, well said, well illustrated. There's a dash of the wistful at the close, which is a fine balancer.

As for your Reports in Plague Time, I find them intriguing, and their details often enough on the mark, and further records of your humanity. And then there's the pictures again.

You don't remind me of anyone, in the best possible sense.

Regards / Dunc

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Dunc

Thanks for stopping in again, you're a reliable and thorough fluffer.

I'm waiting to see what my friend does with "To the Moon", if she gets music done, I'll be sure to post a link.

Glad you liked Gedanken. I am a science and math nerd, for sure, and it leaks into my poetry (where my interest in languages comes into play)

Someday was one of those that came out of an abortive (for now) longer narrative I was attempting, and the parody of Shakespeare's line was too much to leave buried, and needed a poem where it was the focus.

The Plague Diaries keep rolling on. I am currently contemplating today's entry (translation: I haven't started yet).

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

To Paint a Blue Umbrella for John Prine (for Jess Nolan)



To paint a blue umbrella for John Prine,
we need to gather all the rain that falls
in all the world, to swim the river Rhine
and every sea, to catch the plaintive calls

of every nestling for its mother's love,
to fly in every sky beneath the sun,
to sing a Gospel tune to God above,
to weep at sundown when the day is done,

to sing of dreams and angels when we die,
to know that we'll survive somehow—the line
from birth to death leads on to heaven's sky,
where we will paint, remembering John Prine.

---

BrianIs AtYou
---
I took a similar reference photo to the one Jess was using to paint from, and applied the Van Gogh and oil painting filters to it in GIMP

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

IX. Might as Well



Even when there is not a pandemic,
Mom is isolated much of the time—
but she would normally have regular visitors.
Her helper, D, is down to one day a week.
She wears a mask, and keeps her distance—
no—“Hello, Miss Eleanor!”—with a big hug anymore.
I’m doing all the cooking, so D just does deep cleaning—
the bathroom and kitchen floors are scrubbed,
the bedding is done, and she is gone.
It’s a living, barely.
 
Sister Lynn Marie from St. Francis has stopped
her rounds to the homebound. Mom is upset
that she cannot receive Holy Communion,
especially, now, during Holy Week.
Palm Sunday will be bad enough—
no mass in the cathedral, and the cable TV is out,
so her normal backup plan is gone.
“How can I live like this?”

I tell her St. Francis does a webcast,
(not that she knows what that means).
But they only do one mass per day now,
at 7am, in the small chapel,
not the spacious cathedral that she loves.
She’s not up at 7am,
unless she hasn’t slept all night.
Living ain’t easy.

I search a bit and discover something useful—
they have older masses recorded!
I find one with the Bishop, over an hour long,
performing the Sacrament of Confirmation
for many who have chosen to deepen
their commitment to the Faith.
Being blessed with the Sacrament,
these believers will receive the Spirit
of the Living God.
 
I set the laptop on her dual-purpose walker/chair,
as she sits in the recliner in the TV room.
She is eager to see Palm Sunday Mass,
even though there are no palms for some reason.
I get the stream going, full screen,
and turn the volume to full.
Not live, but a good simulation.

Mom cannot tell the difference.
She asks me later, “What TV channel was that on?”
She is one who thinks that Facebook is magic,
and I explain that it’s like a DVD
that comes through the computer.
Live from St. Francis! It’s Sunday Morning!

I know this discussion will come up again,
as I have told family, friends, cousins and more,
to send her greetings for her birthday.
She does not want to talk on the phone,
except with her children—her sons.
Jen is gone—
no longer among the living.

My brother Bob does FaceTime,
Ed calls by phone, and Hiromi chimes in.
Ken comes in person, just as he normally does
when changing her colostomy—
Samina comes with him, but they keep their distance.
The others post pre-recorded video.
Mom talks to the screen anyway,
when I hit play,
and she sees the face of her godson.
“Hello! How are you, Kevin?”
It might as well be live.

---

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

X. I Must Go On



Great-grandpa Thomas came from Liverpool to America,
in the wake of great loss. Cholera. 1866.
Two brothers, one sister, his mother.
William, James, Jane, and Mother Ann
were listed in the roll of the dead for Frank Street.
Gone from the land of the living.

His loss across the sea was just one more—
he to New York, and Brooklyn Borough.
His last surviving brother, Richard,
was another loss, Chicago bound.
They never met again.
Their father, the elder Richard, was bereft—
holding on to Liverpudlian memories,
to names on gravestones—
and frozen by a fear of the sea.
He lived out his life alone.

One hundred years later, when I was born,
Frank Street was still a slum for the underclass,
where death might come from hunger or disease.
Now, I cannot even find it on a map,
but none from the family remain there,
so maybe it is best forgotten.
Great grandpa is remembered
only by a few sepia photographs,
and a progression of sons through the years,
leading to me, with my father in color—
and my middle name, in memory of him.
Some piece of him still lives in me.
I must go on living.



---

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Jesus visits the Cafe on Good Friday during the Pandemic



The Plum Street Mall is empty, and
the Cafe doors are shut,
when Jesus comes Good Friday late—
the staff had all been cut.

He knows they'll need a miracle—
the times were tough for all.
He'd done the Cross thing years before,
to save them from The Fall.

But now they needed something more,
to get them through their days.
This COVID gig was quite a chore,
yet worthy of due praise.

He wears a mask of angels' wings
beneath his crown of thorns,
and, with a choir of angels, sings
for all the Earth that mourns.

His sings of nurses, doctors, too—
of cashiers at the store—
he sings of those in uniform—
he sings of those too poor

to live like this, without a job,
with children at their feet.
He begs his Father, "Send them loaves
and fishes they may eat!"

He falls as at Gethsemane,
for his last fervent pleas.
"The third day I arose from death—
may it be thus for these!

"May those who suffer—those who toil—
may those who live in fear—
find solace in this troubled world.
May healing soon be near!"

Thus, pierced in heart and hands, he roams,
and sits by beds, alone,
of those who wait—for death or cure—
with wounds to match his own.

---

BrianIs AtYou

[prokopton]

(Gedanken / Undenkbar)

The New Utopia is not a singularity,
a world without affinities.
Worlds spawn in quantum quantity,
soon drowning in infinities.

Say for a fact that you were a cat,
said German-speaking Schrödinger—
though, in cat, you could not say it like that,
if you, in fact, a feline thing were.

Thus, when we (pretend / explain),
we (are / are not) a cat—
we (come / go) (quick / slow) to the (end / begin).
As we’re (dead / alive), (skinny / fat)—

a (human / feline) reificatification—
a (gedanken / undenkbar) experimentation.
Which (New Utopia / Old World of Sin)
have we (landed / not landed) in?

(Postscript / Preamble)

(Mein Gedanke war, dass die Katze undankbar war /
Mein Gedenke war, dass die Katze undenkbar war.)
(My thought was that the cat was ungrateful /
My memory was that the cat was unthinkable.)
 
---

Brian(Is/IsNot) AtYou

Ah, Brian, a new take on an old puzzle!
I like the affinities / infinities juxtapositiion too
much to think about,
and the illustration is cool.

Nice K-D challenge met!

all the best
Gffoe

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

ellHo Gffoe!

Much thanks.

I'm so familiar with Schrodinger's gedanken-experiment that this flowed out fairly easily.

Most forget that his purpose in proposing the thought-experiment was to point out the seeming absurdity, and counter-intuitive nature, of the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics championed by Niels Bohr. Like Einstein, Schrodinger was a skeptic, and he thought that there must be some hidden variables or some other explanation.

More to come!

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

XI. Dear Paul, Let’s Sing Once More



The ones who know me know it’s true
before I say a word.
They saw me post the pictures for
the rumors that they heard.

So much has changed in just a month,
the streets are clean and clear,
and no one sees McCartney’s face
on Main Street over here.

A month ago, at Hailey’s, I was
sitting at the pub.
I ordered steak and taters—
just some basic drink and grub.

Across the street, the Beatle Boy—
not boyish anymore—
had stopped while “Yesterday” was sung
by Sophie near the door.

They got Sir Paul on Facebook, and
the New York City news,
some friends could not believe the odds,
despite the “likes” and views.

We need you, Paul, on Main Street, now—
we need you even more.
We’ll feed you at the pub, though you
are way past sixty-four.

But, now, Dear Paul, let’s sing once more,
your plaintive “Yesterday”,
a month has passed since you were here—
when “troubles seemed so far away.”

PS

Paul McCartney—
you know the drill!

---

BrianIs AtYou

I wrote an earlier poem about the incident, when Paul McCartney showed up on Main Street in Metuchen, NJ (too late to make it into February Sevens, and too early for March.)
His current wife is from the neighboring township of Edison, so it is not completely unprecedented for him to make an appearance here.

See "Simply Fab" for the earlier poem.

[Dunc]

Brian

John Prine isn't a singer I know/knew. You say goodbye with a most lyrical lyric and another fine photo.

I Must Go On ─ A calendar of plague and death and striving and taking it on the chin again and again and again till it seemed normal. And here we are, with those photos that catch the old reality. I think your title is good advice too.

Dear Paul is a warm salute to Mr McCartney, who is still hale as far as I know, and who features in good memories of mine as plainly he does for you.

Have the best Easter available in the circs!

Regards / Dunc

[Jee Leong]

Brian, much admiration for the feeling and the skill of the last four poems. Your Jesus is one that I could believe in. "I Must Go On" opens a family album and I am immediately drawn in.

[Sorella]

Brian,
To the Moon, Alice – very cool and funny!
Gedanken/Undenkbar – great word play and physics/philosophy, and an apt illustration
Beehive – a concrete and wonderful haiku—how did you do that? Reminds me of Scrow’s work.
Someday - Sonnets re made, you and Donna both, and both pretty dark! Kudos!
For John Prine -- In the rhyme department, Prine/Rhine is pretty cool! You are such a fixer of photos!
Here we sit listening to Bach’s Easter Oratorio, and there:
Jesus Visits the Café on Good Friday during the Pandemic! What a lovely tribute to all the heroes
and comfort to all the victims.
Happy Easter! From Bach and us two self-isolated here.
Sorella

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

Dunc, you fluff with your usual aplomb. (What is a "plomb" anyway?). John Prine is well known among the singer-songwriter set, and his songs have been widely covered, like Bob Dylan, but with less name recognition.

As the title says, "I Must Go On", and I am still plugging away.

The McCartney incident was quite a wonder that Sunday afternoon.

---
Thanks, Jee. I feel comfortable with the ballad meter of some of the recent pieces, and I think it shows in the final product.

With "I Must Go On" and some of the more recent Plague Diaries, I feel like I have had more of a focus on a single theme than the shotgun/grab-bag approach that some of the earlier entries had (from my point-of-view as writer)--not that that was a bad thing. It was representative of the confusion of the early days of COVID-19. Now, I think I have the opportunity to have a more reflective and focused approach.

---

Sorella,

Thanks for the close look, the sonnet was fun (I feel like doing at least one is obligatory!), and the Prine rhyme as well (that was a quick 5 or 10 minute piece that I wrote originally as a Facebook comment for my friend, Jess, as she worked on her painting.)

Beehive was done using the Paint 3D program that comes with Windows 10. I had never tried it before. I went in with another idea initially, that I could not accomplish, either from unfamiliarity with the program, or because of the program's limitations. Playing with it, I came up with the Beehive idea, which seemed like a good change of pace from some of the more serious recent work.

As I said to others, I am waiting to see if my jazz friend comes up with music for the Alice piece. If she does, I'll post it. That would be fun!

BrianIs AtYou

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

This Side of the Rainbow (sorry Dorothy!)



I don't want to go over the rainbow.
I won't wait for the old by and by.
I want bluebirds to sing
on the roads that I know,
and a rainbow this side of the sky.

I can't wait for a wizard to save me,
for a wizard's uncertain and sly.
A handy mechanic
whose estimate's free
and has proper tools is the guy.
 
---

BrianIs AtYou