Tagged: Michael Konik

Five Years Later

All of us remember where we were and what we were doing when news reached us that our country was under attack. (I was playing golf, and my playing partner got an emergency message on his beeper.) The hijacking and murders in Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania, and New York changed our nation forever. In the weeks...

Poem: The Activist

Reserved for the privileged. Frustrated. Grass roots effort. Personal journey. Workshop. Access to resources. Conscious eating. Nurturing your nature. Community-based. Dialogue. Facilitating. I’m passionate about… This society. Holistic. Our own truth. Left behind. (You know, you know.) Access to information. Access. Healthy joyful life that radiates. Support our local Farmers. Businesses. Reframing. Impact. Wellness. Low...

Poem: Syllogism

If it is true what they say Then surely this must follow Like a trained dog lurking at the heel of his master. You, who take offense at the vagaries of language, the cracks and crevasses where imprecision allows victims of low self-esteem to imagine offenses that were never intended Nor existed — You, you...

Keeping Young Minds Pure

As anyone who has attended a scolding church sermon knows, our children — meaning the children of other people, irresponsible guardians who aren’t as good at parenting as they ought to be — are drowning in filth. Their minds are infected with lewd thoughts inspired mostly by female mammaries, and the sludge that spews from...

In Anticipation of Labor Day

Thank you to the Dads and Moms, toiling at home or in an office, on a truck or in a field. Thanks also to the Thais and Turks and Filipinos and Sri Lankans, the Malaysians and the Indonesians, the Bangladeshis and the Vietnamese, and of course the Chinese, who make our clothes and shoes and socks....

Poem: Desafinado

Life is a melody played repeatedly By millions and billions of musicians All trying, with various levels of success, to make the song sound right. The normal hallmarks of practice — repetition, interminable repetition — don’t apply here, for there are no second chances, no do-overs at the beginning, no opportunity to return to the...

Poem: The Tomato

Evidence of an unwanted visitor: hunks of green flesh missing; pockmarks and scrapes, like the residuals from a Bad case of acne; Ants crawling inside the formerly impenetrable husk. The tomato has been breached, Probably by a rat Or maybe a bird, an enterprising finch, who pecked and poked and discovered that the emerald fruit...

Poem: Marine Layer

To the residents of far away precincts, in states where a vote for staunch defenders of the Holy Cross means one extra ticket to the carnival of Heaven, the shroud of velvet mist represents a shroud, like the one in Turin. Fog equals ennui. The sun-baked, though, see the cloud on the ground as a welcome...

Sexless Marriage

According to the bus stop advertisements and billboards around town, another disposable situation comedy is about to make its debut on network television. The conceit of this one, called “‘Til Death Do Us Part,” is that his adorable wife henpecks a regular guy (the aggressively unfunny Brad Garrett) to the point of emasculation. The tag...

The Price of Virtuosity

Not long ago we had the pleasure of hearing (and watching) the young soloist Hillary Hahn play the Mendelssohn violin concerto with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, at the Hollywood Bowl. She was sublime. The notoriously difficult music, which is hard even to hum accurately, came through her fingers with supreme grace, as though her body were...