His shadow, embedded in ice
frozen in time,
Inescapable in ways unimaginable
with cold that numbs the very soul,
winterness

Night train, with no destination in sight
on the broken hands of time,
a window seat overlooking an arctic world
searching for signs of his life,
winterness

Eyes cry freezing rain
a polarized crystalline blue
with hopes of some homeward bound image
but it’s never safe from zero
winterness

michael’s on ice,
a seasonal flatline in black
like the snow-tipped mountains of forever
with a soul numbing wind of 1 below zero,
winterness

Every night I walk through the pulsing heart of Chinatown
here in Boston on my way to the train.
I’ve witnessed a kaleidoscope of urban situations
from drug deals to being solicited by “China Blue” of the night.
There’s a muted sense of mystery lurking around every dark corner, dimly illuminated by paper-cut hanging lanterns and humming neon.
Occasionally, I get a whiff of pungent sesame oil in the air creating visions of steaming woks
and maniacal chefs in the process of creating some outlandish order of Dim Sum.
I pass by the Lucky 88 Supermarket on Essex Street and glance in, surprised to see a beehive of activity.
From the front window I see a fish tank filled with anything but what I consider to be a fish.
It’s a subculture that thrives amidst the sometimes chaotic city of Boston.
Chinatown is also a place where I would never want to find myself at 3AM.
Crimson lace dragons peer from the backlit and smoky windows of Villa Moon,
a quiet restaurant tucked away on one of Chinatown’s many dark side streets.
While there’s something oddly enticing about it, there’s also a sense of foreboding and no access,
a ‘you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave’ kind of mentality.
I know it’s all in my head but it’s what my eyes see.
As the fall days melt into winter dusk, the sun sets earlier and my journey to South Station grows just a bit stranger.
The shadows stretch and move, neon and fluorescent lights from the stores and restaurants give the ever so slight suggestion of a carnival at night.
Maybe that’s what this is.
It’s only when I take the time to actually ‘see’ this mysterious place that I come to grips with its all too stygian appeal.

Dim Sum, Fried Wontons.
Stir fry and Karaoke.
Boston’s Chinatown . . .

Positive Thinkers have Twelve Qualities in Common

• They have confidence in themselves
• They have a very strong sense of purpose
• They never have excuses for not doing something
• They always try their hardest for perfection
• They never consider the idea of failing
• They work extremely hard towards their goals
• They know who they are
• They understand their weaknesses as well as their strong points
• They can accept and benefit from criticism
• They know when to defend what they are doing
• They are creative
• They are not afraid to be a little different in finding
  innovative solutions that will enable them to achieve their dreams

*by Susan Polis Schutz

For Sarah, Jenna and Hannah
* hope you read this ladies . . .

Since I began seeing the “Bucket List” meme floating around the net I thought about
several things I’d like to do before I die.
The picture above served as a reminder.
The aurora borealis?
Yeah, I will see them.
Click on the picture above for a full shot of the Northern Lights from outer space.
Breathtaking.

Get me a chocolate Lab.
Cutest damn puppies I’ve ever seen.
Great dogs, too.
Been years since I had one.

Jobson’s Cove in Bermuda.
I miss the island overall and hope I can get back there very soon.

Just a few idle thoughts during my last day off
before heading back to work tomorrow.
The time off has been somewhat therapeutic.
And my mind is quiet . . . for now.

Late night, Duke Street
the wet cobblestones shine and sparkle, bubble and squeak; and the dense fog rolls in
the clock tower chimes twelve
And it’s Zero for Zooz
Westminster.

Late night, Duke Street
the gauzy moon bleeds and drips, gaslights burn
and gossamer sheets of a hazy white sift through
the inimical clouds of night
the clock tower chimes three
And it’s Zero for Zooz
Westminster . . .

Sunrise, Duke Street
a languid sun cracks itself open and splashes some invisible and distant horizon with
salmon pinks, royal purples and bright orange crush
the clouds of night rest just beneath the hush of dawn
and the clock tower chimes in crystal silence
And it’s Zero for Zooz
and Westminster waits . . .

~m

I blame yesterday for
words unspoken;
one goodbye I’ll never ever hear;
promises of tomorrow, opaque and empty

Of time, fluid and perpetual
my life seemingly shipwrecks,
splinters of wood and unforgiving rocks bear witness
to the crashing waves surrounding me
I search a deserted harbour for a beacon of light,
of grace,
and a desperately needed peace . . .

I blame yesterday
for all the wrongs I could never fix;
the hearts, the tender lives, forgettable moments that left me broken and incalculably fragile

Of life, an arid landscape cracks open before me
partially exposing a soft white light, completely obscuring the truth
the Tides continue, fluid and perpetual and it makes me wonder
If I can still believe in this tomorrow
when it’s so damn hard believing in this today . . .

~m