Four Poems by Nolo Segundo

 

On Eating An Orange And Seeing God

 

I miss the big navels when they are not in season,

but almost any orange will do when I really want to see God.

 

But it must be done right, this seeing, this apprehension of the

Lord of the Universe, Lord of All the Worlds, both seen and

unseen….

 

First I feel how firm the orange is, rolling it in my hands,

the hands of an artist, the hands of a poet, and now the stiff

and cracked hands of an old man--

then I slice it in half and look at its flesh, its brightness,

its moistness, its colour--

if the insides beckon, urging my mouth to bite,

I first cut each half into half and then slowly, carefully--

as all rituals demand-- I put one of the cut pieces between

my longing lips and gradually, with a sort of grace, bite

into the flesh of the sacrificial fruit.

 

I feel the juice flow down my throat and recall the taste of

every orange I ever had, even in my childhood—or so it

seems, with this little miracle of eating an orange.

 

As I finish absorbing, still slowly and gracefully, its flesh,

the last bit of what had been one of the myriad wonders

of the world, I look at the ragged pieces of orange peel

and I see poetry-- or God-- it’s really the same thing,

isn’t it?

 

 

I SING TO ETERNITY

 

To an unmet friend:

 

You see the mortal world

And for you man is machine

Little more than a device

For the vagaries of evolution,

Faith is illusion, hope lacks

Weight-- and love? Can love

Be other than mere sex,

Nature’s sole mandate?

 

And your science now tells

You: what can I ever know?

All is a quantum topsy-turvy,

And mother nature part

Whore, part illusionist….

Your thinking breaks all

Down to little pieces,

And nothing matters

As matter is all while

Science the only god

Left for us to worship.

 

And we are nothing,

Not even dreams

Anymore, just bits

And pieces to be

Examined, classified

And then ignored—

For science is all,

And faith but a

Refuge for fools.

 

You are honest,

I know—you see

Yourself as just

Another machine,

Destined for decay,

Then destruction—

Your sentience but

A cruel joke told

Yet again—and

No one laughs.

 

You and I,

We breathe,

We think,

We live—but

You would stop

At death while

I begin there….

 

I sing to the eternal,

Quell not my songs,

As they rise above

The despair born

Of your vacant

World, following 

Stars streaming

Their wondrous

Light in a dead-

Cold universe.

 

I sing to Eternity,

I sing to my soul!

 

 

Some Are Not Meant For This World

 

They cannot fit, they cannot go along,

And the reasons vary—pride, fear, or

Even love never tempered by time,

Illness of the heart or mind, or simply

Bad, bad luck: life throws them away

Until they throw life away….

 

She was one of the gentle ones,

The unlucky ones—a flower child

Who missed her time, an era she

Might have thrived in, free, alive,

Unencumbered by family ties….

 

If she had come of age in the 60’s,

She might have lived into her 90’s.

But lost and afraid in a cold world

Not of her making, with her bird-

Like heart breaking, she ate her

Last hoarded apple, then lay down

In the house abandoned of hope

To sleep and sleep and sleep until

She awakened safe in heaven’s lap.

 

 

TIME IS A MAGICIAN

 

Time does magic,

For time is not real,

It is all illusion, a

Sleight-of-hand.

 

We're tricked by it,

Parcelling time into

Minutes and hours,

Days and months,

Years and centuries,

But they don't exist,

No more than a

Border does when

Viewed from space.

 

You can prove that—

However old you are,

Think back to a very

Early memory, like

Riding a bike or

Tying your shoes

For the first time

Without help from

The grown-ups…

Be it twenty years

Or eighty years ago,

Doesn't it really

Seem like it was

Only yesterday?

Nolo Segundo, pen name of L.J. Carber, became a widely published poet in his early 70's in over 80 literary journals/anthologies in 7 countries and two trade book collections: The Enormity of Existence [2020] and Of Ether and Earth [2021]. Both titles and much of his work reflect the awareness he's had since having at 24 a near-death experience whilst almost drowning in a Vermont river, which brutally shattered his former faith in materialism, the belief that only matter is real. [And no, the NDE was definitely not of the 'white light' sort, but then his near-drowning was not accidental.] Nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2022, he's a retired teacher (America, Japan, Taiwan, Cambodia) who has been married 42 years to a smart and beautiful Taiwanese woman.