Child's Song

A child falls
then bleeds,
stumbles and bleeds.
She bleeds and bleeds.

What do we do

when we fall?

"Get back up, Papa!"

A thousand cuts
follow her
into adulthood.

 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

A child farts
then laughs,
belches and laughs.

She laughs and laughs.

Where do you 

feel it?

"In my belly, Papa!"

Laughter is an anecdote

to life's callous
encroachments.

 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

A child mourns

then cries,

questions and cries.

She cries and cries.

Why the ambulance,

Papa?

"For the neighbor, Buddy."

Death and mourning

usher the cycle
of renewal.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

So play the song
that she may sing,
play it 'til
the fingers bleed.

Strike up the band.
She sings and sings.

"Play it again, Papa!"

A child's song
celebrates
the living thing.

Iyla Grace 10.0

     Iyla Grace is double digits!   This release comes with a passion for illustrated books:  The Babysitter's Club (her favorite), Amulet, Primer, Diary of a Sixth-Grade Ninja.  She can't get enough, and it fills my heart with joy to experience her love of the written word. 

     Iyla Grace Productions has three, new feature films set to release in time for Oscar consideration:  Space Dude, Thunder Cloud & The Wolf Clan, and Myth / Haze are all written, directed, and produced by Miss Iyla Grace Lambert.  Look for them this holiday season at a theater near you.

    Happy Birthday, Little Buddy!

Creamy Coconut Corn Soup with Chili Crisp

     Light and quick to assemble, this summer soup makes a nice companion to your grilled sandwich.  I prefer to consume it in a coffee mug ... The chili crisp adds a spark of heat to the sweet, summer corn ... Delicious! 

INGREDIENTS 

• 4 tbsps. extra virgin olive oil
• 2 medium yellow onions (about two cups), diced
• 4 (12 oz.) bags frozen sweet corn
• 4 (32 oz.) cups low-sodium vegetable broth
• 2 (12.5 oz.) cans unsweetend coconut milk
• 1 tbsp. ground coriander
• 1 tbsp. fine salt
• 1 tsp. garlic powder
• 1 tsp. smoked paprika
• 1 tsp. group black pepper

          GARNISH

• Chili crisp

     1).  Warm the olive oil in a large stock pot over medium-high heat.

     2).  Add the onion, coriander, salt, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and black pepper, then sauté for until the onion softens and turns translucent.

     3).  Add the corn, broth, and coconut milk, bring to a simmer and cook until the corn is tender (about 10-15 minutes), then remove from the heat.

     4).  Use an immersion blender to puree until smooth.  Taste and season to your liking.

     5).  Serve garnished with a drizzle of chili crisp.

SERVES 8 

Eloise Jane 6.0

     Eloise Jane version 6.0 went live today.  This release comes with an upgraded sense of humor –– now slightly elevated above pee and poop jokes ––, an abiding love of animals and insects –– she scolds me for killing wasps in the house ––, and a tender heart that craves human connection ... She is the best snuggler!  

     I asked our girl how she wants her special day to go:  "Papa, I want to stay home from school cause birthday girls get to skip school, and I want Iyla to stay home from school and play with me.  I want to open presents from you and Mama, then have cake with frosting, then pizza with frosting ... Then I want to have a party."

     Happy Birthday to Miss Eloise Jane.  My heart is full!

Guide To Amsterdam (For Visiting Americans)

Follow the mother holding her child’s hand

through the Red Light District.

Smile at the working girls 

dressing rose-colored windows.

Spend an afternoon in a coffeeshop 

with an Englishman named Bob and a joint called ‘Cheese’.

Order a genever; remember to bend and sip

before picking it up.

Stand aside for an army of bicyclists;

they have the right-of-way.

Observe ancient church rituals

older than the promise of the New World.

Tour the Anne Frank House and marvel

at the unbeatable tenacity of creation.

Drop by The Book Exchange:  donate one well-read;

leave with a promising companion.

Traverse the canals at dusk

with fellow travelers you have never met.

Break the provincial bread; indulge the chocolates, frites,

beers, cheeses.  Try the soused herring.

Tell a self-deprecating joke about American tourists ──

ask me if you need one.

Everybody speaks English, but you curry favor

with your fumbling attempts at Dutch.

Wander without a destination through

the cobble-stoned City Centrum district.

Languish at midnight in your third-story bedroom window

and behold a city that has exorcised 

the demons of puritan austerity, suffered and bled for it,

and emerged a wise and mischievous soul.

**First published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine

**Illustration by Morgane Xenos

Pvt. Lindsay

She made a show of liberating her breasts

every time we went to the field.

Some pimple-faced private would retrieve her bra

for display in the berthing tent.

Marines quietly jerked off in their sleeping bags

to visions of her bouncing like a go-go dancer

beneath regulation camouflage.

At the club she wore combat boots, vinyl leggings,

and tube tops that thrust her

front-and-center of every conversation.

Guys took shots from between her thighs

while you imagined her naked and sweaty

pouring tequila over lickerish nipples.

Half the platoon claimed to have slept with her,

which you suspected was half-true.

And when she approached in the Company office,

slid her manicured nails into your crotch and declared,

        "Tonight,"

all you could muster was a timid,

        "No, Thanks,"

not because you didn't want her,

but for the over-riding impulse you discovered

in that moment

        to resist

                being owned

                        or compromised

except on your terms.

And when she filed grievance with the Master Sergeant

accusing

        you

of sexually assaulting

        her

you learned that some women will slit a man's throat

and carve his round edges straight

in order to sculpt an image hardened

by the terrible parade of embittered step-mothers,

predatory uncles, and beguiling boyfriends

who taught her the only power

a woman wields in this world

        is with her body.

West African Chicken & Peanut Stew

     The people's stew will have peanut butter (natural peanut butter).  Flavorful and delicious, this recipe is great for stormy days when the body craves warm comfort.  One of my favorites! 

INGREDIENTS 

• 3 tbsps. peanut oil
• 1 large yellow onion, chopped
• 2 large carrots, peeled and diced
• 1 red bell pepper, seeded and chopped
• 1 jalapeno, seeded and chopped
• 4 medium sweet potatoes, scrubbed, peeled and chopped
• 1 (28 oz.) can crushed tomatoes
• 1 (15oz.) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
• 2 tbsps. tomato paste
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 4 tbsps. peeled, grated ginger root
• 4 (32 oz.) cups chicken stock
• 12 oz. crunchy organic peanut butter
• 1.5 1bs. cooked chicken, shredded 
• 4 cups kale, chopped
• 2 limes, juiced
• 2 tbsp. curry powder
• 2 tbsps. coriander
• 1 tbsp. cumin
• 1 tsp. cayenne pepper
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1 tsp. ground cloves
• 1 tsp. sea salt

          GARNISH

• crushed peanuts

     1).  Warm the peanut oil in a large stock pot over medium-high heat.

     2).  Sauté the onion (with a pinch of salt) 10 - 12 minutes, until begin to brown.

     3).   Mix in the garlic, ginger, cumin, coriander, cinnamon and cloves.  Sauté another 1 - 3 minutes, ensuring the onions are well coated with spice.

     4).  Mix in the sweet potatoes, bell pepper, jalapeno, carrots, and tomato paste.  Stir another 5 - 7 minutes (or until the sweet potatoes begin to stick to the bottom of the pot).

     5).  Pour crushed tomatoes, chicken stock, and chickpeas into the pot and season with cayenne, curry powder, and salt.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and let simmer for 30 minutes (or until the sweet potatoes are tender).

     6).  Add peanut butter and puree the contents with a hand blender producing a smooth texture.

     7).  Stir in the chicken and kale and simmer another 5 - 10 minutes.

     8).  Stir in fresh lime juice, then season to taste.

     9).  Serve garnished with chopped peanuts.

 Accompany with jasmine rice, or works great on its own.

SERVES 6

Bartending The V.F.W.

       Lawrence, Kansas (1995)

There's not much to it:

pour the drafts,

clear the ashtrays,

mix well-drinks.

The Vietnam vets

favor Jack-n-Coke.

The WWII crowd,

Scotch-and-Soda.

Our only Korean War vet

takes his brandy neat.

We keep a bottle of St. George

behind the bar for him.

An occasional floor sweep

exceeds expectations.

Christmas décor is tacked up

year 'round.

Campaign insignias

and service ballcaps

line a smoke-filled perimeter

that obscures all 

but the exit signs.

It's Memorial Day,

and the Colonel delivers

his annual speech

honoring the sacrifice

of our fallen brothers.

Manny offers a solemn toast,

"To the lost."

Jason buys another round

of shots.

To remember them,

they drink.

They drink

and beat their chests

in solidarity.

They drink

with the awareness

that all

are at the mercy

of the universe.

They drink

to animate themselves

and tell the stories

that otherwise

remain buried

in the footlocker of experiences

for which they do not

posses the tools

to relate

to one another,

let alone

civilians outside

eager to thank us

for our service. 

**First published in G.I. Days, an anthology by Milltown Press

Mulligatawny

       Perhaps you recall the Seinfeld episode, The Soup Nazi, where Kramer mentions mulligatawny:  "It's an Indian soup. It's simmered to perfection by one of the great soup artisans in the modern era."  "Who, the Soup Nazi?" Elaine replies.

       This is not the Soup Nazi's recipe, but a confection of ingredients drawn from mixed versions I have explored over the years ... Light and flavorful, it makes for a great Springtime meal.  Note:  I like to double the recipe and keep the pot in the refrigerator all week long. 

INGREDIENTS 

• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
• 1 yellow onion, chopped
• 2 celery stalks, chopped
• 2 carrots, diced
• 1 red jalapeno, seeded and diced
• 5 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 tablespoons ginger root, minced
• 1 apple, cored and diced (I use Granny Smith)
• 1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes
• 2 tablespoons curry powder
• 1 tablespoon dried thyme
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 1 cup red lentils
• 1/3 cup white jasmine rice
• 5 cups chicken stock
• 1 (14 oz) can unsweetened coconut milk
• 1 lime, juiced
• 1 rotisserie chicken, shredded (I only use the breast)

          GARNISH

• Cilantro, chopped
• Raisins, golden
• Cashews

     1).  Melt the butter in a large stock pot over medium-high heat.

     2).  Sauté the onion, carrot, and jalapeno 6-8 minutes until onions have softened.

     3).   Add garlic, ginger, apples, celery, and diced tomatoes; sauté another 3-5 minutes.

     4).  Add all the spices and toss until fully coated.

     5).  Add the lentils, rice, and stock; bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium-low and simmer 30-40 minutes. 

     6).  Immersion blend about 75% of ingredients.

     7).  Add the chicken, stir in the coconut milk, and squeeze in the lime juice; let simmer another 10-15 minutes.  Salt and spice to your liking.

     8).  Serve with a garnish of cilantro, raisins, and cashews.

 Accompany with warm naan bread.

SERVES 8

Corpses

 

            Outside Kuwait City (1991)

We came upon them mid-day

in a rush for shelter from the petrol rain,

three corpses upright in an armored personnel carrier

as crisp as dime-store cigars.

Oil fires illuminated a blast zone surrounding the vehicle,

casting a perverse half-light

over the living and dead.

Some Marines took photos with the corpses,

souvenirs for the living back home.

I kept watch through the scorched, steel turret

and thought of my Grandfather lying embalmed

in a casket in Enid, Oklahoma.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I was sixteen when Grandpa died

and recalled him displayed like some wax mannequin

stuffed with ice and vinegar.

The mortician overdid Grandpa's makeup

which cracked like desert topsoil around his hairline.

I half-expected him to rise up

and scold the adults in the room

for displaying him that way.

The preacher's pontificating ran on for eternity,

and I experienced a skepticism swelling in me

toward claims that the dead reanimate

in a celestial paradise

surrounded by childhood pets

and deceased loved ones.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Staring back at those unfortunate soldiers

trapped in a fiery death-box of American military might,

the poison rain hammered away

at our fragile notion of youth's invincibility.

The thunder of approaching artillery

rattled our momentary reprieve.

An offhanded sentiment offered 

by our most-junior squad member,

a boot private from Encinitas, California,

proved a more convincing eulogy

than Grandpa received.

"Sucks to be them," he said. 

**First published in As You Were literary magazine

and second-place winner of the 2023 Col. Darren L. Wright Memorial Writing Awards.

**Illustration by Morgane Xenos