Into the Light

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Vienna woods edge on aged communities

stocked with every end-of-life demise

hostel and hospice

still, there’s tapfelspitz

at the local bierkeller

bent on re-affirming life

away from the center

Avalon Gloss

… I get misty, not holding your hand

rambling in Oxford

Rush

Anjali is very competitive

chafes at second placing

i pretend she’s the reason

i’m pumping my paddle

past mid-life muscle ache

but i fear the photo gives my fight away

 

Scanned Image

Ubud

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When Sheila visited in 1984
Spirits and dark dogs spooked
She’d bring a torch for when the power outed
We don’t need the torches these days
The dogs feed off tourist scraps
But I’m still laying no bets against resident deities

Translation

the grime comes mixed in with smiles, sunlight and welcome

the indigent on the mattress round the corner from microcenter swank

i suppress the horror stories from middle american well-meaners

yet clutch my satchel closer strolling into San Telmo

wonder if i should regret having no reception for the two young men

who call out as i pass

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Ushuaia

in Ushuaia, the spare inhabitants take morning air

strolling to their aerodrome and back

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I took the Polar Plunge

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Cliche

the thing about the cliche

it’s been said before

often said better

occasionally worse

overdone

trite

 

but

left unsaid

is like betrayal

in Mikkelson bay

the chocolate is hot

and salted with farewell

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Mutual Admiration?

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we humans love our penguins, it’s not doubted

when oohs and aahs are polled and tabulated

gentoo, chinstrap or adelie

triumph over gull,  tern, shag (the bird, and maybe the activity)

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how chuffed we are to learn

(from steve)

our feelings aren’t unrequited

gentoos, it appear, love back the human presence

liking to nest where people have peopled

choosing this old Argentine search and rescue shack

as the site for their conquest

 

a penguin outhouse?

an ice-boat?

 

 

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Turnaround

Captain Oliver broke the news last night

 

unfriendly winds and currents gather in the drake

wait upon explorer’s parting wake

 

it’s time, too soon, for turn-abouting

home a-heading, ceding our southing