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Nat Lipstadt Jul 2024
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self~explanatory, too many 100 mile+ trips,
taking a toll on a sleep deprived human,
the pattern unch’d, dabbing mine eyes,
to stay awake, precious cargo inherent,
and the poem dabbling yield little, giving
up writs from a priori, sans review, sans
an electric transference, age showing,
in too many ways..,
this is not an apology, ‘cept to the fifty or
so read my name with a loyalty that is
beyond appreciated - the summer of running back and forth, ferrying visitors,
the hum of the dishwasher a daily demur *******,
a timing event, and nobody touches the machine but me…(1)

a weak explanatory, but this my  sorry storied explain ~away,
flatter myself the
out put will return to prior quality,
nonetheless, I feel keenly,  my subpar,
performance and I will do better,
as I bend over the freshly cleaned
dishes of past poems
**a promise to myself
7/8/Do Better
not neglecting my shopping, ,restaurant’s planning, pool buoy,
all around schlepper,  etc
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2024
wake up to an overcast clouded day,
streaks of palest of sad multi nefarious
blues and white singes, but the effect
is negatory, for its prior predecessor
was glorious in its sunny, grandiose
perfection; perfect in every  respect,
and today arrives with a 500am
greeting of peace but overcast with
sadness, but humility, this is a childlike
an in between day, a reminder tomorrow’s
unfeted fate could always be worse…

yet every day is perfect in its uniqueness,
and in silence but but firmly loud within,
I utter the prayer taught to every Jewish
child, as soon as they learn to speak with
comprehension, these, their daily first words…

”I gratefully thank You, O living
and eternal King, for You have returned
my soul within me with compassion—
abundant is Your faithfulness!
(2)

But in so many things, the Hebrew words
are multi-purposed, shades of complexity
even in though the simplest, plainest opening
word (Modeh)  is intuitive simple…
”I thank you”

Within
a simple direct word of thankfulness ,
lies shadings, just like today’s weather,
in its relativity, in compare of its
less-than-perfect predecessor, are
shades of admission & surrender…

though not obligated, never free to abandon
the unending reworking of the definition of me,
and all the draft versions
as yet, unpublished



Notes
———
(2) the prayer spoken upon awakening Modeh Ani

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modeh_Ani#:~:text=Text,-Gender%20of%20speaker&text=Modeh%20ani%20lefanekha%20melekh%20c%E1%B8%A5ai,compassion%3­B%20abundant%20is%20Your%20faithfulness.
this, the second cut…

(1)
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2024
(so many revolutions provoked, this is just the first cut)
<>
this rabbinic saying, is both disarming and yet awesome,
the interpretations are many, but I find them stained, strained,
and I welcome the “pshat,” the simple mystery of the
what YOU think
is plain meaning of the words,
that makes it so sensible to us,
individually,
formatted into our own personalized
understanding

for the nth time when the poetry won’t come,
or arrives warped, spoilt fruit,
incapable of being repaired
and walk away
with ease
though tinged by
being ill at ease,
but properly snap the padfolio shut…


<>
(but smile on, for the
revolutions are
unceasing)
(1j Rabbi Tarfon
“You are not required to finish your work, yet neither are you permitted to desist from it.” This is from Pirke Aboth, or “The Ethics of the Fathers” (sometimes called “The Sayings of the Fathers”) a collection of wisdom from the Jewish Talmudic sages, in this case, Rabbi Tarfon, who lived and taught
2,000 years ago

first cut/ first version..simmered for awhile
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2024
grit on my face…****!

<>

city boy,  progeny of the multi-cultures
any new yorker breathes, the grit fills in
the mini pores, but even better, the lines and
the deep furrowed creases of squinting worries,
inherent and inherited
from years of peering into
the future whose outcomes always fell
outside the range of ordinary misperceptions
and into the realms of extraordinarily ordinary…

even the grit and the grip of grief, cause and
consequence of my endless errored foreseeing,
equally crinkly when smiling and/or grimacing,
for I read what I have written smilingly, and grimace with
the unknown knowledge yet within, there is more to come,
but from who knows where or when, and the grit hardened
exterior groans with the thrill of pulling and
purging yet more words from the
Sea of Churn,
whose burning sensations brings cherried sundae
of mixed anxious trepidations and a groan of relief
when the work of words is done and done & delivered,

and yet:

(that fearsome worded curse)

sadly seeds the junkies need for the next fix…


and my lips issue a pleasured ****!

7:59am
Sabbath Sat.
29 June 2024
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2024
fewer words means no greater appreciation


well you know, I’m not one
famous for brevity, after all,

why not use three words for
every one sufficient, satisfying
the egotistical statistical curve
of the illnesses of literary illiteracy.

exactly.

but brevity in thanking,


the swift surety of a few
chosen, well aimed, words,
is the arrow in the bullseye,
that is taped to my chest,
directly over my heart,
that part, from which we
ship and receive
immense gratitude
countless kindnesses
and proofs positive,
that our two hearts yet beat,
marching in more than
unison,
nay,
marching in a

unification
greater than any
distanced separation!
Feb 6, 2024
nyc
  Jun 2024 Nat Lipstadt
Colleen Brown
I sat atop the roof so high,
And sang my mournful lullaby.

Years went and the tears went
Pouring down my face. A crier
At heart, emotions run my game,
Though I was never taught how to play.

When the going gets tough,
Pull yourself up by the bootstraps,
Making sure not to hang yourself
In the process of “equality for all”.

There’s nothing equal about love, and
There’s nothing fair about emotional reactions.
Both happen spontaneously, subconsciously,
And
Suddenly
You’re living a life you never imagined.

I’m tired of singing this sad soliloquy.
It’s time to leave the roost.
rekindling my inner voice in rhyme and reason.
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