“Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.”
― John Muir
image: Christie Cochrell, Filoli
poetry&prose
creative ramblings & reverie
Another memorial sketch of mine, “Torre del Lago (A Triptych),” bits of creative nonfiction often reworked over the years, has been published in the Spring 2025 issue of Allium, A Journal of Poetry & Prose—a print edition which can be ordered from the publisher.
The triptych includes Lucca, Italy; Santa Fe, New Mexico/Nagasaki, Japan; and Hawaii's Kona and Kohala Coasts. (Unlikely—but then so has been my life!) All of the threads of this are tied together by Giacomo Puccini the composer, and his transportative music (especially Madama Butterfly.
It begins (though not where it really began)
"One late October afternoon, some twenty years after my father’s death, we take the train from Lucca to Torre del Lago. Arriving finally at the station on the lake where Giacomo Puccini's villa stands, where he wrote the music that has been for me since childhood the touchstone of beauty and sorrow. The villa where, I wrote some twenty years ago, they found eight phonograph records with labels in Japanese."
And ends (much earlier) with yellow fishes in the blue-black water of the Kona Coast—after a long, time-traveling journey in between.
Images: Villa Museo Puccini
James Merrill wrote in his memoir, A Different Person (1993), about visiting a doctor about his depression, saying that he didn't know how to live or how to love, he just knew how to write a poem. The doctor, he said, "listened closely, then acted with undreamed-of kindness and dispatch. 'Come with me,' he said, in a flash ushering me out of his downtown office and onto the back seat of a smart little pale-green motorscooter. I put my arms, as instructed, about his stout, gray-suited person, and off we went in sunlight, through traffic, under trees, past architecture, over the muddy river to lunch." (The Writer’s Almanac, 3/3/3)Our hope is that this collection of writing will give readers the same je ne sais quois that brief but immense lunchtime voyage gave us—encouragement for going on; inspiration to do something simply good for ourselves each ordinary day; a smile; a moment of respite or recognition; time out from global numbing; a pause for weirdness, wonder, and delight. We want to share what gives us pleasure or some keener satisfaction putting down as well as picking up.