Jean Vengua recounts a mime attack--it can all be explained by the words, Berkeley, California--giving me the opportunity to speak of my Easter Bunny moment. to wit: running thru lovely Concord centre of an Easter morn I bespied The Easter Bunny. seeing me she, the voice was female, called out "Mike, get the runner". EB was across the street--okay, maybe it was someone in a costume--but this "Mike" was on my side of the street. Mike dutifully ran up alongside me and stuck out his hand. I understood the gesture and stuck out mine. Mike handed me jelly beans. I said thanks, running on, and Mike went back to receive more orders from The Easter BUNNY (sound dramatic music). it is a funny ole world.

Last Word

The green field
is a given
tho it takes away

light spills
across his path

he loves to
blink and stop
run and recede

the day darkens
in his exceptional run

we live in the names
and the positions of love

a heaven exists
of running on

we still hold something
in the fog
of our morning

2) Less the bolts of lightning
and less the fields
of lazy grass and
less the dog's
own mooring. Loss ejects the
pleasant sound of lost river,
tributary. Scour the landscape,
which the dog
now roams
full and light. Trees poke high
and dive deep. All union fixes
the sky. Our drama recedes
in the quickness of the dog's
run. Focus is our plan.

3) Only so much
room, only so much
love, the candidate
of love and moving on
comes to know
the green field
of perfect light feet.

The way is clear.

Love mentions us
in passing.

4) These days
are filled with night
and poems need
stars to bring
the words to
warm embrace.

The race is to
the end of this day
and the mortal start
of another.

Love connects the two.

5) It was a beautiful sunset.
The moment of touch
prosecuted an homage,
a peace, tender
information of
long green field.
Is it my job
to remember you? It is
my job to hold the space
we held together.
It remains your job
as well.

my dog passed away today... passed away, I eupheme, except a generous clarity enters the term. he slipped into death, sweetly, tho Beth and I cried. and I told him he'd be running, running ahead. he was part husky, part German shepherd, that sort of thing. I nicknamed him Next County Brownie because (typical of huskies, I am told (by Beth, who had purebreds)) given the opportunity to roam free, he'd take it. if he managed to get away, he was prepared to cover the map. it's the husky nature to find the way home, but that's after sufficient time to explore. under previous ownership he got away, and was found in a restaurant dumpster, living the good life. 4 days before 9/11, I trotted off to the nearby farmstand for dinner fixins. there by the side of the road was Brownie. I was surprised to see him there, 1st. 2nd, that he didn't trot gleefully away when I saw him said something bad. I went over to him and saw a gash in his shoulder. which looked like what another dog might've done (Brownie himself was anything but aggressive). and then I noticed that his foot, which he held off the ground, wobbled. I pieced together that he'd been hit by a car. so he had a broken leg, which was really traumatic for us, worry and expense. in fixing the break, the vets only worry about the main weight bearing bones, so tho he healed, his leg splayed and he wasn't quite as devastatingly fast as before. he wore a cast for a while. I'd be up early in the basement, writing and would hear the dog pace. thump thump thump, it sounded nothing but like Ahab on the deck. and the 1st chance that he saw an unattended open door, out he dashed, luckily Beth was in position to catch the boy. memories now attended as the life that was lived. our home now feels empty. the cat, a nervous fellow, is disturbed. he really, I mean truly, idolized Brownie. and Brownie, who was cool as a yankee, never really seemed to reciprocate. he bullied the cat tho it often seemed in a protective way. when people visited us, the dog would shove the cat, who did not readily cotton to visitors, away. all these specifics define nothing, of course. I so strongly see Brownie in the green light of some endless field, running without time as a burden. loss is a saturation. death demands that we look. tomorrow I will not walk the dog. it has been a retelling of my father's death.

snake

snake, originally uploaded by allen_bramhall.

perspective

perspective, originally uploaded by allen_bramhall.

web

web, originally uploaded by allen_bramhall.

chairs

chairs, originally uploaded by allen_bramhall.

1st of all, 3 demerits for not having charged spare camera batteries. we went apple picking, which on this perfected sunday afternoon is hard to argue with. for all its quaintness, as you might imagine. it isn't quaint, really. I mean, I used to think, pick 'em for me. but it is lovely among the trees, the sky so blue, air crisply clear tho warmish. the yellow delicious (called golden supreme) looked like fantastic flowers in the trees from a distance. I track particularly to empires and macouns. empires have a deep bluish red colour that is exquisite and tastewise are my favourite. bag of apple swag in one hand, camera in the other, until, alas, both batteries depleted. which was before we came upon some stones set as benches, on the edge of the forest. Stonehenge, where the dewdrops cry and the carts meow!!! then a tour of local new england nowhere, little towns on the NH border. anyway, pictures once I can retrieve them from a charged up camera.