a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart
Author: David Koblentz
Inspiration is a fickle muse. Sometimes empty, sometimes overwhelming. These words I write are my own but they seem driven by something else (perhaps?).
scrimshaw if teeth could tell tales instead of having them pass by from the mouths of babes spawned in the maws of whales food for thought, a pictograph etched enamel, weathered hands captured memory of the sea a voyage through the seven and creatures be words wrapped wisdom around a molar born or an incisor’s whit captured nautical dawns
“This is the tooth of a sperm whale that was caught near the Galapagos islands by the crew of the ship Adam [of London], and made 100 barrels of oil in the year 1817.”(an early scrimshaw inscription)
“lively sketches of whales and whaling-scenes, graven by the fishermen themselves on Sperm Whale-teeth, or ladies’ busks wrought out of the Right Whale-bone, and other skrimshander articles” – Moby Dick by Melville
A “prow” is the portion of a ship’s bow (ahem, front of ship) that is above the water, in old times adorned with various carvings, creatures and maidens…
the twin lives of selfishness and selflessness truly a world divided, a yin and yang, chang and eng, the tried, true and classic black and white cookie, still the two could not be more distinct but should they be? or more symbiotic than you might think, poor ole selfishness seems languished in reputation while selflessness is bathed glowingly in the perpetual limelight of hero worship, however, as with a book and it’s cover it pays to look under the surface, the subterranean is always harder to explore, you need the guiding light of the mind and a dash of some adventurous spirit (and perhaps a good pair of boots and sturdy rope), so let me make a case in the defense of selfishness, at some point you must have a drop of this, or a dollop of it added to your bloodstream, think of this infusion as a valid component of the prescription for self preservation, you are being carried away by raging waters, you must find a tree limb or other outcrop to hold onto, and from there, perhaps, you can furnish the rescue of others, but blind loyalty to selflessness may lead to needless death, for yourself, and those you might mean to save, all an equation, but one that must be mastered by the mind as instinct in a framework in which to act when called upon or needed, I have unfortunately read many an account where someone has jumped into a certain situation only to perish themselves, so, at least in this instance selfish was a bridge to selfless, complete and utter selflessness would have lead to further tragedy and served no one well, brief #2, a selfishness on the stand, if you do not take the time to keep your house in order how can you honor others? cross examine that for a spell, for the young knight who charges off into the battle in full shining armor, with gleaming honor, perfect edge to a shining blinding sword, and all the best intent ringing in his spurs, or consider the aged knight, war weary, battled in spirit, no less noble, perhaps a bit more selfish in the past as it has gotten him this far, and the poor young night now has the distinct experience with his head upon a spike, glorious helmet quite upright, chivalry may die quickly upon the shields of the young, and then perhaps there is the knight that only knows the love of gold, for he will truly die fat, happy, and quite alone, because in the realm of coin there are no citizens, only denizens of no self, a desert land of the self less, there seems to be some merit resident in selfishness to consider, when used as a tool to build and not a house to hold.
music to ponder the universe to: (ambient space goodness)
the first gnash of teeth, against me, my skin, piercing fangs, I thought I was prepared, I have seen this before, I have experienced this before, so many times as memory serves, the summer has softened me, the fall has cautioned me, but no, nothing prepares for the veil, the drop of the curtain, the stark view from the top of the cliff as your fear falls off, the reveal of the cold that makes you recoil back into your shell, and in this early fall day this is this, a first grasp, a first gnash, grabs at me, anything, any skin revealed, causing scurry into the indoors, the bite, the jaws, the abject cold, how it penetrates, all your charms and armor just fall by the wayside, cast aside in a moment, so prepared am I that I am still unprepared for the full frontal, the full front swept across the plains, slamming into the northern states, but more so here, just north of where I usually tract, but yet, I am here, dealing with the bend of the jet stream just south, just south enough, twenty degrees, twenty degrees, can it be? the time for outside ends, so soon I think, tomorrow morning I wake, to scurry to the car, huddle in place to let it warm, oh sweet autumn, where have you gone…
notes… wrote this last night in a fever pinch when the temp in westchester NY dropped into the 20s, I was in some foreign hotel, away from home but I have to say the hotel was comfy and had damn good insulation, elmsford NY, I can check that off the bucket list, well, I doubt many have elmsford on their bucket list but it is not a bad town anyways… I checked in around 6pm, parking lot had plenty of options… went to dinner (really good), came back around 9pm and there was literally one spot left, woke up and checked out by 7am and the lot was nearly empty… strange man, strange…. but up the street to Pleasantville I went, I have to say the local Starbucks was one of the most well run and friendly I have ever been too, and they know all the regulars and bang out the orders, for those of you who turn your nose up at Starbucks (and the prices), try the just the regular coffee, not the ‘triple lindy caramel choco double frappe half zebra latte’ or whatever, for the price the regular coffee is damn awesome, I like the Pike, or Sumatra, just a splash of skim… but that is just me… and I did have some amazing sashimi today with my coworker Alzira!
observation, like a movie, like a dream, like the terror of sleepy hollow approaching, the leaves parting, dancing as if on cue and string, all the ingredients stirring, in a wind mixer, a blender, in the wake of motion of cars travelling down the highway, even if I understand all the thermal and aerodynamics of the phenomena I am astounded by the coordination of all, not even a rehearsal, just the fall, the leaves in just the right place, in just such a way as to peel off like parting waves and curl off into the wake, albeit behind cars in inward looping curls, but again, all the random perfection that had to happen, the leaves fallen just so, the wind at the right flow, the dryness of the air so nothing is sticking, the amazing spectacle of driving through autumn leaves left on the road, so simple, so over looked, amazement hidden under your nose… and tires…
notes… I am up in Pleasantville NY (‘Westchester is Bestchester’ as they say around here) for work (for a few days now), huddled in a hotel as the temperature drops into real winter depths, actually colder than usual even for real winter, out of my element in a new town, you think I would be used to it by now, but as I rode along the road I felt like I was in a Lexus commercial or something the way the leaves perfectly rode up my ride and danced around… so, you know, I write things… this being one of those, I try to to keep up when I am on the road but when you work 12-15 hour days, and some in a row, time eats you up and leisure becomes the revelation of good water pressure in the hotel you are staying in… ah, another continental breakfast to take in….
and by the way for those not in the know, I am literally not that far from Sleepy Hollow, it is a real place after all and is awesome in the fall as you might imagine, if you are in the NYC area consider visiting especially halloween time… they dress up the town as you might think and it has a vibe…
O’ withering Jack you lowly schmuck only luck kept you out of a pie or worse yet pumpkin spice spam or some sumptuous trendy latte, perhaps or in the boil of some awful seasonal brew no, you, are now just this sinking lump a hump of rotten candy corn looking imitation drooling out god knows what from the corner of that hole that was your mouth part drifting ever south by the hour, ravens will not even peck at your dead hollow eyes in fact I do not think I can pick you up in one piece might I need a shovel and dump you in the woods like some mobster’s body and then perhaps you may realize your last final purpose… to fertilize.
Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com
O’ my poor Jack my creation, my creativity birthed to fruition your iron toothed smile brought fright spawning shadows cast into that hallow night seeming singular purpose you did guard my doorstep walkway and the yard for not even a black cat did approach nor spells of darkness dare encroach not on your watch my good friend! but with the pass of october and leafy dress that last candle must flicker down and when all wax is said and done your watch will have ended my esteemed, my surrogate, the one until next harvest, the one
notes… these are just for fun, just me throwing out some lines thinking about the poor sap of a thing on my stoop… seasonal and such… this is a continuation of a previous post…
as I feel myself slip, cars dodging for into impossible pole position, territorial equations, my own assumptions infecting my own reality, all swept up in this nonsense maelstrom, another day barely discernible from the rest, what quite in the hell am I doing?
with deep breath onset, I let the calm literally descend down incrementally like a hand press, top down from the clouds, and decompress the now, as the matted grey sea meets, a bland horizon line, take the air out, the stress out, ‘release your mind’ I think, easier thought than done, I think, but my own logic struggles to contain the boil, reason is not always a foil for the experience within hand’s reach, deep breath, release, I imagine stretching out across the sky like the singular grey clouds on this unremarkable day, the same day, every day, the clock does not tick, daylight savings laid back, the minutes count forward crawling up my back – if I let them, deep breath in shallow measures, I want to close my eyes and dream somewhere else, but the grind, why do some days strike more than some, the only variable to the equation is my own perception, deeper… breath, like a tunnel there is an end, like a frightened white knuckle panic holding on to railings that are only surface for show, let go, an unremarkable day, grey skies are just rumors of rain or perhaps her cold cousin soon to be queen of seasons, so let it be, breathe, and perhaps a small fire of a smile cracks the crust mantle, the silliness of importance, in moments as thus, so smile at the utter world, let the rising happen, regardless, deep breath.
the morning shuffle, daily, I have been trying to pause for a moment before I hop in my car for the morning commute, to just pause, take a gander around, maybe spy the sunlight creeping through and around the branches of the trees that tower over the backdrop of the house, maybe find a squirrel milling about, a flock or one of the local birds, get lost in the minutia of wondrous nature, of the natural world around even here in suburbia, for just a second, take it in, ingest it like a day’s nourishment if you will, take the feeling with me to fuel some sense of wellness for as long as I can stretch it to last, to remember my place in the universe, the wonder of a planet spinning all the time, my feet quite tethered to yet unaware, but this morning I was in a rush, in a huff, no thinking about doing the right thing and enjoying a moment in the proverbial sun, of course there was none, sun, that is, this morning, just ominous grey swaths haphazard across, blurred and bound I rushed to my car unknown to sight or sound, just on the mission to get to work by nine, on time, or else, but sometimes life intervenes on your own behalf, out of the corner of my eye, down the block, enough of a ways I had to grab a second look, a neighbor, whom I could not identify out of a line up for my life, walking a dog, but not a dog, quite obviously a young one, a puppy, just the word rings the brain and resets perspective, ‘a puppy’, some sort of husky mix thing, paws more like over size rain boots two sizes too large, curiosity streaming from every posture pose, leash taut in stretch directions as all things are new, I wanted to pause and say hello but time would not allow, but time did allow enough, for that moment of puppy love, and things seemed more alright, for at least a few moments thereof.
o’ sad Jack once ferocious teeth scowled now, sagging, inward, to the side as your mouth collapses and the roof caves in your short age your short time in the sun so briefly, gone witness to all the leaves now quartered and drawn a mouth once alight with writhing flame throwing shadows on demon’s bane casting out into the night flickering dance candle light for you have seen better days hollowed out for hallows eve has left you less whole with no reprieve and like the shrinking land repose off into the landfill you must go yet let not all hope be squashed for come next fall we pick your kin
notes… just something somewhat silly that the muse bequeathed to me today…
music… sort of weird and inspired… damn good band…
we choose the daily spiritual nutrients we pull up from our roots and feed into our trunks… and when these avenues of nourishment are polluted does it not travel into the the outer leaves on display for those eyes that might come upon our grove, does the reflection in our bark reveal the underpinnings coursing through our veins, for the truly vane may think not, but certainly, what we choose to allow into our inner sanctum at once becomes the base of the exterior statement, so what’s the point tree boy you might ask? fair enough, I was off for a week, as a treat scrap thrown floorward down to me from the table of my work overlords, reality changes so quickly, how quickly I succumb to a routine of lounging, feet up, admiring the view out by the lake, or just the mountains in general, no where to be, no appointments, just the minor distraction as to where to dine that evening, or just sit and ponder some more, and more, I try to encapsulate those moments, take them in, take them back with me to that other reality, this monday’s reality, all anew with my shiny relaxed post vacation armor, confident I will not be beaten back by the hordes of circumstance I anticipate will befell me, what cruel beasts of work reality await me, what madness has been waiting not so patiently by my cubicle to ambush me, and in all this, I find myself, feeling the creeping anxiety, clawing it’s way slowly up my back, wrapping in an around my spine, squeezing. squeezing life, air from my recline, pulling the shades down so I might no longer see sunny memory, in this, that moment, I realized I was quite twisting myself, I was tying my own knot, or tying myself into a knot, allowing these thoughts to intercede and invade when they would have no place if I was a good gatekeeper, apparently not, I wind up thinking myself into situations of confrontations that haven’t happened, but yet the ojeda of same remains, my vacation shield only lasted a day… pretty sad state of affairs, but maybe the goggles have born me a little new sight, I grab a full on handle of my own dumb self, looking at myself from outward bounds, I am letting this all happen, sure the external pressures are real but I am the one who lets them in to root and cause destruction, am I in some ultimate battle for the soul of the universe here? surely not… surely not… so why then am I the hands tying this very knot…
on golden rod bend sun sheen strolls on by the strident king glides on through and between these careful rows of winter wheat Oh, Alexander! keeper of the namesake halter to the great mantle a border past beyond barriers ties brothers out landscape born for in the eyes of the conqueror begets the lion’s roar
notes… I imagine a conqueror must be both fierce and strong… but at times pauses to admire the landscape in between battle that bear namesake… and also I am invoking the elysian fields type of view as well, there is other commentary in this poem, we will see how many of you get it, I have no idea why this popped into my head, it just did, who am I to argue with the universe? I just work here…
Shades of My Garden 