Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

14th & Main…by Robert M. Katzman

14th & Main

by Robert M. Katzman

© August 7, 2017

 

It still glitters in my imagination

Gives me a suspended moment

Whenever

I slow down to stare at it

It is the absence of anything

The quiet vista that represented

Better times for the

New couple in town

14th & Main

(Read on …)

Caring for Joy’s Garden…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Existential Pets,Friendship & Compassion,Life & Death,Love and Romance,Trees,Wisconsin stories — Bob at 8:50 am on Sunday, July 30, 2017

Published July 30, 2017, © by Robert M. Katzman

Sometimes, in the cool night air I walk barefoot in the dark on the geometric red and white stone paths to inspect Joy’s Garden for evil invaders. All manner of uninvited plants seek to join the selected ones. They are unaware that a different bipeded specie’s resistance to them is constant and that pulled weeds, once sun-dried, become kindling for our hungry backyard brick fireplace.

There are five blossoming brooding Burning Bushes on the east and west sides of the little garden, to contribute to my defenses. Soon to be a fiery glowing red, Moses would be proud. But also, he wouldn’t wonder why there were ten of them. Subtly, but meaningfully to me, they send two messages. I let them speak for themselves.

(Read on …)

Audrey, Pink Bunny Slippers, Her Cat, and the God’s Eye…by Robert M. Katzman

By Robert M. Katzman © May 18, 2017

(a podcast of this story I read on 91.1 FM, WGTD Kenosha, Wis NPR a week earlier courtesy of the warm and kind people of the Kenosha Writers Guild, especially Dave Gourdoux, has a link at the end of this posting.)

 

I was reading an online obituary page a while ago, and saw that Audrey, my Audrey, by then 86, had died.

It sent a shiver through me and I glanced over at the God’s Eye I’ve kept with me wherever I’ve moved over the past half century. It rests about five feet away from me. Intricately woven multi-colored yarn with fine detail in a Native American style, using three foot-long slender branches tied together in the shape of a six-pointed star.

It is a spiritual and ritual object thought to have magical powers by the ancient Pueblo tribes in the Southwest.

It is thought to possess the power to be able to see and understand that which an ordinary person cannot see.

Audrey, I thought to myself, now you’re really gone from me, aren’t you?

The pain within me was so real, so deep. She was someone I would often go see in Shabby Town, when I needed to remind myself that whatever else was wrong with me, with my life, a woman with fine qualities like Audrey–and Jesus, man–so beautiful, too, who was willing to give me a second look, well, ok, a lot more than a second look, then…maybe I had something valuable about me that she wanted, too, if only for a moment in time.

Audrey, Audrey, that picture of you, that little old lady scrunched up in a hospital bed, why had that newspaper or whatever online things are called now…no idea about how incredible you once were? What you were really like, so long ago. The smile that radiated from your big brown eyes, and your soft wide mouth?

So kissable a mouth. Soft lips, Audrey, you had such soft lips…soft everything.

(Read on …)

Joyce is Moving On Now, Getting Closer to the Light…by Robert M. Katzman

Joyce is gradually moving on to wherever we go when that time come for us. For her, it will be a sunny white Palace–very, very clean because Norwegian girls are like that–filled with puppies and children, because she has too much love within her for just one of anything.

(Read on …)

On the Impossibility of Hope…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Depression and Hope,Existential Pets,Friendship & Compassion,Life & Death,Love and Romance,Uncategorized — Bob at 8:27 pm on Wednesday, January 4, 2017

On the Impossibility of Hope

By Robert M. Katzman © January 4, 2016

 

Sometimes nothing works out

You live your life

Hope for friends

Hope to be healthy

Hope to be happy

And

(a really big hope)

Try to fall in love

With someone as they are

And

Be loved as you are

You, without disguises

You, sometimes without a clue

You, with no idea where you are going

You, more than a little

Shy of visionary

You, without the certainty

Of

Knowing what to offer

(Read on …)

Post-Surgical Dispatches from Racine, Wisconsin…by Robert M. Katzman

January 10, 2016 (Sunday)

So, I am home alone, recuperating, with my dogs Betsy and Jasmine, who keep me warm in frigid Wisconsin. I can stand up and lie down, but no sitting or I’m in big trouble. Prostate surgery is not something to mess around with.

 

I discourage nice friends who live nearby from visiting, because the (unstated) aspects of recovery are difficult to deal with, and constant. About two weeks before most things are better. Burning pain is a real part of it. I look fine (ok, not gorgeous) and no one could tell something was wrong unless they lived with me for a day. Time moves v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y. The dogs wake me before sunrise, follow me around every damn minute, have to go outside endlessly and if I choose to rebel, they leave me a little message. The Dog Mafia.

 

(Read on …)

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