From Lrobpoet at sonic.net  Mon May 25 22:54:27 2026
From: Lrobpoet at sonic.net (Larry Robinson)
Date: Tue, 26 May 2026 07:54:27 +0200
Subject: There are countries - Rebecca del Rio
Message-ID: <8D1E04B3-654B-4A53-BC35-28E41C870FAB@sonic.net>

?There are countries
where Chaos is King, others
Fate is God. You may live in one.
If you do not now, maybe soon.
Maybe now and you don?t know it.

      - Rebecca del Rio



"Be joyful though you have considered all the facts."
    - Wendell Berry
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From lrobpoet at sonic.net  Tue May 26 23:09:36 2026
From: lrobpoet at sonic.net (Lawrence Robinson)
Date: Wed, 27 May 2026 08:09:36 +0200
Subject: Rain Light - W.S. Merwin  
Message-ID: <577FB962-97DF-4DF9-9FBD-0B606BBBF6DC@sonic.net>

Rain Light

All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning

	 - W.S. Merwin
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From lrobpoet at sonic.net  Wed May 27 21:52:47 2026
From: lrobpoet at sonic.net (Lawrence Robinson)
Date: Thu, 28 May 2026 06:52:47 +0200
Subject: Things My Grandmother Said - Amit Majmudar
Message-ID: <E0684087-077E-4BE0-9F93-41E02ED8BA9D@sonic.net>

?Things My Grandmother Said

Turmeric can heal anything
but a broken heart.
I?ve got some Benadryl I bet could shush
that dog of yours. Sounds fun
but what does it pay. You can?t shoot
the spots without shooting the leopard.
If dressmaker?s dummies could cook,
we?d all be old maids.
Poetry? You?re grinding water
with a pestle of ice,
but when you?ve never thirsted a day
in your life, I guess
you can play. I know plenty
of family history, but don?t ask me
where green eyes got into the bloodline.
India invented recycling, we called it karma,
but trash now is trash later.
I wasn?t crying, I was dicing onions
in a memory in Ahmedabad.
Every time I stand up
there?s Rice Krispies in my knees.
This girl is perfect for you, I know
her aunt. Read that to me at
my funeral, boy, right now my show is on.
I got to be this old by nibbling a little
raw ginger every morning.
Ambition?s a sinkhole that deepens
the more you dump in it,
but that doesn?t mean don?t get a job.
In the old days, families were so big,
counting nephews felt like counting stars.
Every kite forgets its string.
Sure, the Ganga is holy
but who told you to drink from it?

	- Amit Majmudar
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From lrobpoet at sonic.net  Thu May 28 22:32:49 2026
From: lrobpoet at sonic.net (Lawrence Robinson)
Date: Fri, 29 May 2026 07:32:49 +0200
Subject: Oath of Disloyalty - Irwin Keller
Message-ID: <E626A13E-BD72-4AB3-9453-67BCD808B0BA@sonic.net>

Oath of Disloyalty

I am a disloyal Jew. 
I am not loyal to a political party. 
Nor will I be loyal to dictators and mad kings. 
I am not loyal to walls or cages. 
I am not loyal to taunts or tweets. 
I am not loyal to hatred, to Jew-baiting, to the gloating connivings of white supremacy. 
I am a disloyal Jew. 
I am not loyal to any foreign power.
Nor to abuse of power at home.
I am not loyal to a legacy of conquest, erasure and exploitation.
I am not loyal to stories that tell me who I should hate. 

I am a loyal Jew. 
I am loyal to the inconveniences of kindness. 
I am loyal to the dream of justice.
I am loyal to this suffering Earth 
And to all life.
I am not loyal to any founding fathers. 
But I am loyal to the children who will come 
And to the quality of world we leave them. 
I am not loyal to what America has become. 
But I am loyal to what America could be. 
I am loyal to Emma Lazarus. To huddled masses.
To freedom and welcome, 
Holiness, hope and love.

	- Irwin Keller
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From Lrobpoet at sonic.net  Fri May 29 22:23:26 2026
From: Lrobpoet at sonic.net (Larry Robinson)
Date: Sat, 30 May 2026 07:23:26 +0200
Subject: =?utf-8?Q?Mother=E2=80=99s_Nature_-_Toni_Bernbaum?=
Message-ID: <3B1A2970-AD47-4463-A05A-4DBFE25BE2AD@sonic.net>

?
?Mother?s Nature

This morning, in my nightgown and bare feet
I took the smelly bucket of food scraps
out to the compost bin.
It was still, quiet and barely light.
I had given up the fight with darkness
trying to escape a mind
refusing to grant me exile.

I need the cool air to clear my lungs, 
the shock of wet grass 
after the first frost,
the squishy snake of soft soil 
curling  between my toes.

I?ve been kidnapped
in a city of worry 
 about my children

an airborn pattern
looping my mind 
like these ravens
squawking and beating their wings
streaking the sky with black
fragments falling over my head

I need a shovel to dig,  
some wood to stack,  
a broom to sweep, a toilet to scrub, 
a garden to weed.

I need the earth to kneel on
the buzz-by joy
of the hummingbird
the gaiety gossip of quail
the warmth of the gilded sun
to melt this frozen chest.

I need to lean against the bamboo
and learn how to bend, 
how to trust the peeling bark of the redwood 
the guaranteed habitat for worms and grubs
the basic instinct of a squirrel to gather
the honey bee to pollinate. 

I?ve lost the natural intelligence 
of my true nature, doubting
the light of my soul?s path
lost in the briars of not knowing.

I want my children to be happy
and safe
in a world that is dangerous and insane.

I need to just stop
here
in the wild of my own back yard 

admit what I can?t control
accept what is here 

in this, the only moment-
a gift bounding toward me -

down the steps, just a few feet away
landing like a stone, 

this fox 
and I
stunned like a still life 
in the shock of morning light

its delicate head 
tilts slightly, to get a sniff
front paw lifts
lasting
as long as any moment needs
to break the trance
change the world back into wonder

part the clouds
unlock the cage

its face,  gives me the look of a child
then turns with a flip 
flashing its tail 
into the vanished woods,

our racing hearts
shook the roots in the earth  
touching the edge 
of our joining

Mud between my toes 
the empty bucket in my hand, 

Don?t worry,  Mama,
do the dishes
wash the clothes, 
It will be alright.

      - Toni Bernbaum 
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From lrobpoet at sonic.net  Sat May 30 21:27:28 2026
From: lrobpoet at sonic.net (Lawrence Robinson)
Date: Sun, 31 May 2026 06:27:28 +0200
Subject: God - Brian Doyle
Message-ID: <DBFAD317-0101-4F3D-AEE0-D56F7257B805@sonic.net>

??God

By purest chance I was out in our street when the kindergarten
Bus mumbled past going slow and I looked up just as all seven
Kids on my side of the bus looked at me and I grinned and they
Lit up and all this crap about God being dead and where is God
And who owns God and who hears God better than whom is the
Most egregiously stupid crap imaginable because if you want to
See God and have God see you and have this mutual perception
Be completely untrammeled by blather and greed and comment,
Go stand in the street as the kindergarten bus murmurs past. I?m
Not kidding and this is not a metaphor. I am completely serious.
Everyone babbles about God but I saw God this morning just as
The bus slowed down for the stop on Maple Street. God was six
Girls and one boy with a bright green and purple stegosaurus hat.
Of course God would wear a brilliantly colored tall dinosaur hat!
If you were the Imagination that dreamed up everything that ever
Was in this blistering perfect terrible world, wouldn?t you wear a
Hat celebrating some of the wildest most amazing developments?
	
	- Brian Doyle
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