A million years ago (well, a decade or two in the past) I often felt compelled to commit Poetry. Just for me, see? Very little to share here, except, perhaps, for a few forays into Occasional Poems—poems for someone’s birthday or some such. Whichever, wherever, those and other private poems came from a place of listening, which evolved into the urgent need to share what I had heard through words written and tangible. The need to commit Poetry, for me, dictates a crunching up of words, a need to ask myself what I am listening to, or just have listened to, or have listened to enough that the thoughts demand attention. A while ago I shared my poetic thoughts on the Seven Virtues and the Seven Deadly Sins. Today it’s … Overhead:
Read MoreWATCH Livestream of "Clean Dishes" by Robert Moulthrop in Chain Theatre Play Festival 2022 | Get Tix Now
LISTEN to "Farewell," the final installment in PocketBear's OnGoing short audioplay series.
The party’s over; the guests have left, unreturnable. Meanwhile the outside world looks pretty hot, but not too beckoning. As the two hosts pack up the party favors, they banter about their post-Godot world.
Read MoreThe Transit of Venus
I can barely watch—can hardly read—about the unprovoked attack on Ukraine. The country now turned into bomb sites, the population on the move, and all, seemingly, to feed Putin’s delusional need for a reconstituted empire.
So, for a short reprieve from carnage, I’ve revisited a 10-minute play. It’s a form I like: short and sweet, a small frame for a story’s development, a mini-journey for the characters. “Transit of Venus” was prompted by that occurrence back in 2004. I hope you’ll enjoy Ralph and Margaret and Angelo and Giovanna.
Read MoreLittle Lessons From Alice In Wonderland, Part II.
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.
Sound like any recent wars we’ve been in? Any crazy cures (drink that bleach?) How about you at work?
Read MoreWrapping and Unwrapping 2021
There is, of course, always more to come... but for now here's my "writing tip" audio piece, written and recorded and forthcoming for Read650. Always fun to read aloud, especially a short piece where, if I make a mistake at the end (oh yes!), it’s not a big deal to do a re-do. And, if you're interested, listen to my earlier, autumnally-released Read650 piece on surprising birthday presents, here.
Read MoreLittle Lessons From Alice In Wonderland
Opportunity doesn’t always knock, because sometimes there isn’t a door. Sometimes opportunity is more of a whisper, a gentle nudge, a “possible prospect.” Planning is fine, but doing nothing but executing plans, plodding forward, eyes on the ground, day after day, negates a lot of possibilities. Raise your eyes, or risk missing (or not recognizing) the potential adventure that awaits. This serendipity of circumstance has occurred several times in my life. Joining a conversation with strangers on a subway platform has resulted in not one, but two lifelong friendships. Then there was asking foreign travelers in Central Park if they need help, and following that path to the never-before-thought-of-conclusion of translating from Danish a children’s book about death that went on to win the ALA’s Batchelder Award. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
This got me thinking about Alice in Wonderland, a favorite over many years.
Wonderland turns out to be a very fine institution of higher learning, with a sharp focus on business, and a broader focus on Life, with a capital L. While its curriculum may be a bit disorganized, the lessons are succinct, and therefore easily understood. So, as Wonderland Professor “The King” puts it, gravely, let’s “Begin at the beginning, go on until you come to the end, then stop.” So, let’s follow Alice as she tired of reading, slipped down the Rabbit Hole, and encountered all those adjunct professors – including the Dodo, the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse, and the Walrus—who were there to teach her some lessons. We’ll be visiting Wonderland U. from time to time.
Stay Open To Opportunity
Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and, burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it…
Ah, the virtue of curiosity, especially when combined with action... Follow the rabbit, the unusual, not imprudently, and not necessarily for adventure (and not because it’s some kind of new drug that promises nirvana, truly, this time), but because curiosity, far from killing the cat, can lead to very surprising places. You may think you are on the track of something, but wait, because you’re not going through the hedge, you’re going down the Rabbit Hole. As in, “Hey, I never thought of that.” Be alert for the chance off to the side. It’s what happens in science all the time. You think you’re working on a heart medication, but it turns out to provide really stunning erections for those who need that kind of thing. When the rabbit hole beckons, give it some serious consideration.
New Poems For Voice-over For PocketBear Video Piece
In the summer of 2021, Anthony Caruso was commissioned to direct a short film that took place in Lancaster, Pennsylvania—a short adaptation of the opening sequence of the play "Our Town", by Thorton Wilder. (This short is available on YouTube and is titled "Your Town.") On location in Lancaster Anthony took a camera and filmed his own footage around this small city in the middle of the state, and he will be making a short video piece with his findings. To accompany it, I wrote this poem to be used as voice over to the video. This poem is a reflections on the imagined process, the place, and how the pandemic continues to shape our perceptions of cities, towns, and ourselves.
There is a street, a straight street.
There is an avenue, it is a venue, a place
For gathering, for taking in and giving out
For knowing, gaining knowledge
For shedding or embracing ignorance.
There is another street, a winding street
One lane encompasses, another lane comprises
And there are highways, ways to height
Ways that work against diminished effort,
Move us from senescence into sedentary, then
To necessary movement.
There is a road, a road I follow
To constructions I have built
Erections that I comprehend
Confound all expectations.
I vilify their non-emergent energies
Striking chords of discourse and disdain.
Where is the road, the highway, the route?
Where is the lane, the street, the river?
Where will I know, intuit, divine?
What will appear around that corner?
Does it lurk? Does it wait in hope?
Does it forbear? Does it foretell?
Can I know what I know?
When? Where? How?
And most of all Why?
Something About Life
The following short piece was originally published by The New York Times in the Metropolitan Diary on September 19, 2021. Follow this link to read it with the other pieces from that day.
Something About Life
Dear Diary:
On one of the winter’s last snowy evenings, I was walking through the Village, heading for an uptown train with my umbrella, scarf and galoshes and intent on avoiding the icy spots on the pavement.
A young man, probably in his mid-20s, in a black pea coat and hoodie, approached me. I was prepared for him to ask me directions to the New School or the PATH train.
He stopped directly in front of me with a guileless look on his face.
“Tell me something about life,” he said.
Interesting assignment.
“It’s important to be present,” I said. “Stay in each moment as long as you can.”
He was still looking at me.
“And put worry away; it’s generally useless.”
He continued to stand there.
“That OK?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, and then he walked off through the snow.
— Robert Moulthrop
Choosing A Name For Yourself
I will confess I’ve had my own run-ins with self branding, beginning at the early age of six, when I was christened. Why my parents had waited for this rite I never discovered. But wait they did, and I found my six-year-old self, one Sunday, dressed in an uncomfortable dress shirt, coat and tie in the sanctuary of Berkeley, California’s Northbrae Community Church, a child in the midst of a batch of parents with infants, ready to have my name officially sanctioned with a water drip. At home, as my father was tying my necktie, he told me “if you don’t like the name you have, now’s the time to change it.” Up until that time, the thought of changing my name had never occurred to me. Of course I’d thought I was probably adopted, that my real parents were somewhere, waiting to claim me. But the possibility of changing my name hadn’t really occurred. I did have a nickname, dropped on me by my father.
Read MoreThe Commuter
First is getting fired; then the divorce; then the new job.
Suddenly, I am no longer the guy who grabs the toasted bagel from his wife’s hands, drives to the suburban office park, works with people I like, then comes home to a family dinner (most nights; many nights; some nights).
Suddenly I am a commuter. From the new suburban apartment with the fold-out futon for the kids if they ever came to see me. From there to the parking lot, to the train, to the desk that holds a computer with numerical flashes needing constant tending, to the train, to the parking lot, and back again. And again, And again.
At first the train is soothing: new sounds, changing perspectives. And it’s punctual, an admirable trait: 6:37; 8:17. Until the incident.
Read MoreOn The Post Office | Dead Letters
I love the Post Office. Now that it’s in the news, I don’t want you to think that I’m some kind of Johnny-Come-Lately, capitalizing on the news and this iconic institution’s importance for delivering votes, meds, mail, and Walgreen’s circulars. Please know that I have been a strong and sturdy PO champion since way back.
Read MoreBarzini To The Rescue
When you’re five years old, every day begins the same. I remember staying in bed those cool August mornings, the only one awake, floating with my eyes closed as the birds rummaged through the next door palm tree. Then I would fall back to sleep until I heard my father in the bathroom, softly whistling the Ovaltine commercial as he sharpened his razor on the leather strop.
Read MoreWATCH: YouTube premiere of BARZINI TO THE RESCUE, my latest hybrid collaboration with PocketBear productions. →
Click the video link above or go to the PocketBear YouTube page to set a reminder (sign in to your YouTube/Google account and click “set reminder” on video) to watch the YouTube premiere of BARZINI TO THE RESCUE, my latest hybrid collaboration with PocketBear productions.
BARZINI TO THE RESCUE goes live on YouTube on Friday 14th August at 8pm (Eastern Time).
Read More"OnGoing" radio play series for PocketBear Productions.
Three new additions are available to listen to: Thought, Harold, I Think I'm Home, and Out and About.
Read MoreNo Onions
If you were by yourself, you could sit quietly, eating with small bites, not making noise, keeping as still as you could. While you listened to the people at the next table. This was something I heard, one time, back then, when we ate out.
Read MoreLear on a Leash
This Alpha Dog thing. It’s not quite as easy as you might think. And afterwards there’s the constantly nagging oh-so-human question: Have I learned what I should?
Read MoreMush: Recollections Of A Self With No Edges
September 1957. My new stepfather dropped me and my new stepbrother (headed for MIT) in Boston after our cross-country trip from California. My stepfather (a wonderful man who would drop dead over the breakfast table six years later, ending my divorced mother’s one shot at happiness) was in a big hurry to meet up with my mother in Denver for their honeymoon. “You guys will be fine,” he said, not looking back. “Fine” was not quite it.
Read MoreNew Short Radio Play "Filet of Sole" podcast by PocketBear Productions
So, how does Moulthrop get to PocketBear? Ah, New York, New York. The town so nice they had to name it twice.
Read MoreOff The Menu: Woman Eating a BLT at a Diner With Her Daughter
Why did you order beets? You know you’re not going to eat them. See? What are you doing, making designs on the place mat? Put the beet back in the dish for god’s sake. Are you just doing this to irritate me? Like with the oatmeal this morning? And don’t give me that look. I am so tired of your looks. Use words why don’t you? Get it out. Keep it bottled up inside you your insides are going to look like that beet juice.
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