bleu

Walton’s Inn once sprawled along this beach -
salt-stained and bleached; gray mass of creaking wood
that slouched between the dunes, and hunkered down
and clung - a nest of out-of-season lovers,
half-stoned strummers, families and fishermen;
hidden corners, alcoves, gabled roofs;
quirky, skewed - the Island to the core -
as natural as seaweed on our shore.

Now bleu – designer logo set to reach
a sleeker clientele – the chic, the young,
the nouveau riche – asserts itself to screech
its name: blue plastic panels front the decks,
blue gravel fills the paths and outdoor spaces
(two workmen sift it through a screen each day
to clean away the sand that’s everywhere).
The old Inn glitters: repainted, whitewashed, bare.

We locals populate the opening,
drain all their wine, devour the canapés,
and no one has the nerve to tell the host
we give it three years – hope for two at most –
or let on that we fear this bright new thing.

Aubadergine

Awakening, I still can taste your flesh,
the soul contained within the supple
skin you wear, voluptuous and purple.
I have been warned you are the path to madness
and yet, despite the crumbs and salt that kiss
and linger on my lips, there is no brutal
morning-after sting; but just the sweet and subtle
whisper of a roasted scrap, a speck of crust; 
a bitter lemon and the scent of thyme;
the rapture in the olive grove, and you as mine.

The Book of Five Rings

“Legendary Japanese swordsman Musashi Miyamoto’s 17th-century exposition of sword-fighting strategy and Zen philosophy has been embraced by many contemporary business school students, as a manual on how to succeed in life.” 

                                                 ----Amazon.com

Musashi Miyamoto used two swords:
behind the long katana slashing blade,
the wakazashi – short – would almost fade
from sight and mind - then slide inside - and hordes
of samurai found misdirection kills;
their fighting cry became a blood-choked roar.
A master of the craft and art of war,
he sought a truth that lay beyond his skills.

Then towards the end he switched to swords of wood,
withdrew into a cave, and drew and wrote,
worked at calligraphy, unwashed, remote,
and died alone and not well understood.