dirty-dishes love

there are bills on the table,
and the laundry's piled high on the bed.
but the window's all alight with a love
that has no time for dirty dishes,
with a love that knows only laughter, friendship,
and slow dancing 'neath a bare, hundred-watt bulb.

Thoughts on Gay Marriage

As many of you likely know, over the past few days, there has been a lot of hubbub about the Supreme Court's hearings on 'gay marriage' cases, one of them centering around California's highly-controversial Proposition 8 and the other addressing the equally-contested Defense of Marriage Act. You've likely seen a lot Facebook profile pictures changed to the red and pink equals sign over the past day or so, and you'll likely see a lot of heated arguments-- I use that word intentionally in favor of 'discussions'-- on social media platforms over the next while.

I wanted to do an overview of some of the rights that LGBT (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender) activists are seeking, and I'll add my thoughts on each as I go. Then, once I'm done with that, I'll blah-blah for a little while about what's going on between my ears in terms of the question in general. If you stay for nothing else, at least skip to the end and read the last three or four paragraphs worth of closing commentary. I get less long-winded as I write, so you have a better chance of it being short-ish.  :)

 I think it's important to define what we're really talking about here, because the different sides spend so much time bickering and arguing over what means what that everyone's too tired to listen to what anyone is actually saying. So the following list will cover rights that are currently denied gay couples seeking legal recognition for their long-term, committed relationships (comparable to what traditional marriage supporters would call "marriage"). This is by no means meant to be a comprehensive list, and also, I'm not going to use the 'M' word, because I think to really understand this debate from a legal point of view, we have to set marriage aside and look at the issues. I'll come back to marriage and all that later, though.

"pity these hands," à la e.e. cummings

pity these hands,

gnarled and crippled

that never ached

to bring another aid,

that never sweated

in the cupped palms of a lover

and grew wrinkled, old,

alone.

pity that heart,

battered and befuddled,

deprived of love

by love once lost,

that never knew mankind

nor humanity–

that heart

that ticked and tocked

for want of other occupation

and then, gears grown thirsty

and beset by rust,

one day

stopped.

Sometimes Blossoms, Sometimes Thorns

I while back, I made tzatziki sauce to go with gyros, and I ended up buying live mint instead of dried leaves. I ripped the all the leaves off, the violence of the act dawning upon me only upon seeing the barren stalks sticking up from the bottom half of a soda can filled with potting soil, but I was nonetheless determined to make it grow. Winter, by the way, is not the best time to start an herb garden inside your kitchen window, but for one reason or another, the October snows were hesitant to hang about for more than a couple of days at a time, and that means that little Minty for a time enjoyed the leisure of sunbathing on his windowsill balcony, overlooking the lawn.

Minty grew big and strong, and the sun battled the clouds for as long as it could before the cold set in, before the swift-footed cirrus and the billowy hordes of cumulonimbus cast their shadow on the land. As is often the case when someone making great progress is beset by obstacles, Minty started to get discouraged, and I could see that his green confidence was fading in the face of opposition. I decided to set him on top of the oven, hoping that a little warmth would cheer him up, but I found out the hard way that the oven apparently provides for more than just a little warmth. Pretty soon, Minty's lower leaves shriveled up his stalks gave way. I think I killed him.

For now I walk in shadow and confusion, but then will I walk in light, for you shall be my lamp. You will be the spark to kindle fire within my breast. You shall be my every memory, my new philosophy, my enigma. You shall be the wonder that I ponder each minute of my waking reality, and you alone shall inhabit my dreams.

A Poem of Love...

Gertrude

I love the way you pick your nose,

The chipped nail polish on your toes,

Your crooked grin, your frizzy hair,

Your absent look, devoid of care.

I love your cakey, make-upped face,

Your manly gait, devoid of grace,

Your rumpled blouse, your sauce-stained skirt,

Your cheeks begrimed with soot and dirt.

Your hoggish snort and loud guffaw

Reduce me to dumbfounded awe,

And when I see your monstrous feet,

My flutt’ring heart nigh skips a beat.

In beauty naught surpasses now

Your bristle-brushy unibrow.

And I’ll not fear the touch of death,

When thinking of your rancid breath.

Your stubbled chin oft to behold

Is better boon than purest gold,

And if true love be hard to find

Then glad I am that you are mine.