Monday, November 28, 2016

The Lesson

A simple observation, her good-natured ribbing did it: all about the black socks. It was more than just the black socks, but it was a reminder; the ends were very far from the surface. Black socks. Bridges. That curl of the lip... That night.

"We all shouted 'ammonia man' as he clawed at his eyes." "You think that's funny?," he asked. Then he stood right in front of me wearing a weather-beaten leather vest, and big black mc-boots; hair all slicked back and a deep olive complexion. He leaned in and asked me his name. I said it, and he hit me. Standing there in front of the candy store shivering from the cold, the shame I felt was nearly unbearable. I did nothing wrong yet I felt lost. I often felt lost back then. I put myself in the position to get hit, perhaps that's why I felt so wretched. The reverberations of that punch would shake right through the neighborhood, and I'd live with it for a while in the spotlight, and for years to come in my own dark corners. There were many times to come after that snowy day that I'd get hit in one way or another. Many more days and nights of shame. He asked me his name, I answered and got hit so hard it took my wind away and left me shaking. Paralyzed. Why then did I spend the next day with him, blurring the edges and acting the fool?

Her hand reaching out across a scarred, stained, beer-soaked table, wrapping itself in my fingers. That curl of the lip. It all turned into everything I desperately needed, and was gone before the processing could even begin... Black socks. How could that ever sum it up?

© 2006-2016 Lee Greenfeld

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

¡No Pasarán!


"Alt-Right" assholes come at me, my family, my friends, or my neighbors, and you've got a real fight on your hands.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.  Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.


Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.


The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone.  They are gone to feed the roses.  Elegant and curled
Is the blossom.  Fragrant is the blossom.  I know.  But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.


Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know.  But I do not approve.  And I am not resigned.


From Edna  St. Vincent Millay's Collected Poems © 1928

Monday, November 14, 2016

Tempo Tantrum


Billy Miller
Rest In Peace

Thank you for your unbridled love of music and a good story (and man did you have the best stories!); your generosity and your big heart. I will truly miss talking with you about music and our beloved Mets. You were one of a kind and the rock'n'roll world weeps at your loss.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Hope That It Comes True


"I had a dream last night.
Everybody’s laughing and everything was alright.
Still some hope in sight, but that was last night.

I had a dream last night.
Nobody’s crying, nobody’s frightened.
Still some hope in sight, but that was last night."

Photography by Lee Greenfeld © 2016
Lyrics by Stephen McCarthy (Long Ryders)

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Weeping For Our Nation


Today, on the 78th anniversary of the Night of Broken Glass, Donald Trump has been elected president of the United States Of America.

 "Sorg" woodcut by Rune Lindblad, 1955