The Poet's Room

            Leave the Hurly-Burly behind. Leave the television, the noise, the hustle and bustle of crowds. The drug commercials that promise you'll dance in the street or sunbath in the Caribbean. If only you buy our drug. The f ace cream that promise miracles; every wrinkle turned back thirty to fifty years. All the cons that offer a product that will make you the absolute sexiest man or woman in the world. Instead take a walk on the wild side.          Enter the deep quiet of a forest where life and death exist as an ongoing continuum.  A communion where each grows into the other.  Amazing how life breeds death, and death feeds life. Observe trees standing while slowly dying.  Dead limbs lifeless and hard. Sprouting from the trunk the fruiting body of the Pheasant Back Mushroom or Oyster Mushroom fungi that live by eating dead wood.           Some find the bosom of God in Nature. A place to lay a weary head. A deep quiet settles into my soul as I walk slowly trying to see and he

                           May 3, 2023   Dear Mr. Hendricks, Thank you for writing to me about Government spending.   Here’s the bottom line:  My plan to reduce the deficit while investing in America and our people is working.  Since taking office, I cut the deficit by $1.7 trillion, created 12 million new jobs and a manufacturing boom, and kept my commitment to build an economy that rewards work not wealth—an economy that leaves nobody behind.   Thanks to the Inflation Reduction Act that I signed into law last year, we began cutting out hundreds of billions of dollars in wasteful spending on special interests—finally allowing Medicare to negotiate lower drug prices.  This law will also lower the deficit by ensuring that corporations pay a 15 percent minimum in taxes and the IRS has more auditors to crack down on super-wealthy tax cheats.  But we have to do more to decrease the deficit.  My Budget will continue to cut out wasteful spending on special interests, will protect and strengt

  "Mug Shot of The Tennessee Three"          The Republican controlled majority in the Tennessee House voted on April 5, to expel all three of these desperados from the legislature. One vote failed to reach a two thirds majority.   Accused of the incredible heinous crime of shredding the States constitution by use of a baby bullhorn. An unbelievably creative crime that would be believable if they worked as a Nashville backup band with an electric guitar and humongous amp. Shredding would just come natural in that case.          Tennessee State Representative Justin Jones, Gloria Johnson and Justin Pearson led chants from the floor of the House, known as the well, calling on colleagues to pass gun control legislation while hundreds maybe thousands rallied outside for for that purpose. This violated one of the most sacrosanct unwritten laws written in invisible ink on the gold plated ass of a Republican Elephant. Or maybe its on the ass of a Republican sitting on a gold plated

             My friend Sandy points at the birth year of a daughter tree, cut down at the age of twenty-six. Pictured below the stump of the Mother tree and behind her the broken stump of her mother; the grandmother tree. Beyond these trees the apartment building where I live, looks out on this small copse of trees. Last year a Humming bird mom nested and raised two young to maturity in the Silver Maple closest to my window.           A  story of organic life and death to be told.  A floodplain tree Silver Maples can live for 130 years. Fast growing with shallow roots Silver Maples  tolerate wetter conditions than most. Frequently planted in yards and along streets they tolerate typical lawn watering. I grew up in southern Indiana on a short street lined by large Silver Maples. These large trees provided welcomed shade. On the hottest steamy day I could walk down the middle of the street and remain under their cooling shadows. Many changes have occurred since my boyhood years that now

  Fishing for God                   An  outer space Fisherman seeks a connection with God. He sits in his little boat contemplating the fishing pole and line. He leans forward, his gaze fixed narrowly on the boober. Sending Out A Call          Failing to get even a nibble he changes his approach. After putting away his rod and reel he writes a message, a prayer, a Call if you will on a piece of paper.  His vision widens as he looks out into deep space. Making a paper airplane he's ready to send his Call out into the Universe.  In Response -- an Expansive Vision               As he relaxes in serenity on a crescent moon he catches a vision. A response to his Call.  The vision of an unimaginably grand Universe filled with planets and plenty of space. A Safe, Gentle, Landing               Safely held by this grand vision he gently returns to Earth with a broader perspective on his life and that mysterious creative power some call God.          My friends we're all that Fisherman,

                      We all start out in the dark. Tiny sea creatures floating in  amniotic fluid inside the warm cave of our mother's womb. Vibrating in time with the rhythm of her beating heart we grow. Nourished through the umbilical cord cells divide, multiply, specialize to become us. A potential human being that contractions force out the vaginal canal to cry with eyes shut tight when first exposed to the bright light of our birth day.            No wonder we feel awe upon seeing a new born. For our journey also began after sperm met egg, followed by nine months gestation, during which we sprouted head, arms, legs, then fingers, and toes; all body organs needed for two legged upright being.  And the ability to smile. Love the picture below.                Now as mature adults we can reflect on our life's journey. Wonder at being at all. To reflect, think, consider the trials, tribulations, joys and sorrows on being embodied.  To reflect requires a mysterious potentiality

Beth Steffen               In the dark walking her dog at 6:30 a.m. Beth Steffen began crossing  South Syene Road   just above the top of a small hill in Fitchburg, Wisconsin.  A car driving south crested the hill as she neared the other side. Hit violently Beth never reached the other side. January 3, 2023 became her last day on planet earth. The accident happened a short distance from where I sat in our apartment sipping coffee. Unaware of the tragedy unfolding I stared out into the dark across Nannyberry Park toward where Beth lay taking her last breath.  I heard no sirens, saw no flashing lights. A fire station is within a stones throw of where the vehicle struck her. So close  sirens weren't needed. EMT's were probably on the scene almost immediately.   An educator and proud civil rights advocate, at 56  Beth worked as the interim principal at Badger Ridge Middle School in nearby Verona. She's survived by her husband, son and daughter. There's no report about wheth