Ghazal: In Solitude

What do you think you will find in solitude?
We are never so close as we are in solitude.

10:30, the hordes descend upon recess,
And I bid farewell to what could have been solitude.

Lost in the rustling hustle of a crowd,
Bustling anonymity meets its twin: solitude.

Semi-quarantine keeps the virus at bay.
This is what it takes for us to begin solitude.

The blessing of human contact shoved aside
To buy the toilet paper we’ll hoard in solitude.

Guru teaches us the price of our greatness:
To reach our potential, first we must win solitude.

The breath of inspiration flows from silence.
Creation springs up primordially in solitude.

In deepest stillness, find the universe’s
Constant companionship that underpins solitude.

Expanding, multitudinous Unity,
And at last I meet Tandava, here in solitude.

Arati

softly
manifesting
she glows into the world
and the light within each of us
dances

Ashland Theater Festival: A Polyptych of Rubaiyat

Mother Road
If you can swear, then you can be a Joad,
a Mexican, or any other mode
of human being struggling in this world.
We’re all the same along the Mother Road.

Hairspray
Buy Ultra-Clutch! The hairspray that maintains
your follicles but not the ugly stains
of racism and body shaming that
still plague this world. Go dance for social gains!

As You Like It
Right from the start, an incoherence of voices,
the music, costumes, set, and casting choices—
none of it was as any of us liked,
and only when it’s done the crowd rejoices.

Between Two Knees
A slapstick massacre—this is the play
to go to if you think you can repay
horrific genocide with guilty laughter.
So long to all you white folks! Go away!

After the Exhalation

In the space
between breaths
there is no world,
no poetry,
no need for either.
In that space
I pause,
at peace,
waiting to see
which will come first
to require the other.

The Abecedarian Choir

A is for Alice who solos alone
B is for Basil a bass to the bone
C is for Chris and his cri de la coeur
D is for Dixie behind a closed door
E is for Elsie who lisps like an eel
F is for Flora who has all the feels
G is for George who’s a bit of a grunter
H is for Hal who halloos like a hunter
I is for Isabelle whose voice is a spell
J is for Justin who’s still just not well
K is for Katie who carries the top part
L is for Larry who catches the dropped parts
M is for Mark who marches in place
N is for Ned who nods to keep pace
O is for Olive who knows all of the songs
P is for Pleasance who just plays along
Q is for Quentin the quietest tenor
R is for Rhoda a rhythmic dissenter
S is for Sophie soprano at heart
T is for Tristan who’s twisting his part
U is for Ursula’s long ululations
V is for Vladimir’s blessed cessations
W is for Winifred’s winsome reprise
X is for Xander who tries not to sneeze
Y is for Yasmine who yells at the men
Z is for Zach who starts over again

Wrong Notes: A Counting Rhyme

One is no problem—we all make mistakes.
Two still ain’t bad, but it gives me the shakes.
Three’s when it really starts getting less fun.
At four a soprano will call 9-1-1.
Five triggers worrisome heart palpitations,
and altos start doubling up their medications.
By six you’re reduced to hiding your face,
and once you hit seven, they make you a bass.
Eight makes an octave, but you’re off more than that.
Miss nine and the bank repossesses your cat.
At ten the conductor makes horrible scenes.
Eleven, it’s time to call in the marines.
But just miss a dozen, or anything higher,
and it’s bad news blues—you’re out of the choir!

In Case of Fire

In case of fire, break glass.
(Hopefully it was full of water, and can douse the flames.)

In a case of wine, keep glasses intact.
(You’ll need them, unless you plan to drink it all yourself.)

In case of a water landing, find something to inflate.
(Note that the nearest hot air bag may be behind you.)

In case of discrimination, call the police.
(They will have more criminals sent over immediately.)

In case of bad weather, remain indoors.
(It will leave once it realizes no one wants to play with it.)

In case of a tie, carefully extract each player, one limb at a time.
(If not playing Twister, have them review the rules.)

In case of a necktie, find another job.
(Preferably one with a more casual dress code.)

In case of disaster, re-aster as soon as possible.
(Seeds may be started indoors and planted outside after the last frost.)

In case of hyperbole, panic.
(There is literally nothing you can do and we’re all going to die.)

In the majority of cases, the minority is outnumbered.
(But most of the time that doesn’t happen very often.)