20160430 (best)

Good boy. You really add to the neighborhood.

Meeting people while walking

Loki easily ranks as one of

The best activities of my life in

This wonderful place. This morning

We had to cross West 32nd to 

Pass around the excavation at

Vine Court where the city is 

Enlarging the sewer connection

In anticipation of increased 

Service for the many new

Apartments soon to be built.

Traffic had been maintained,

But the narrowed neck allowed 

Only one car at a time. We 

Were almost across when an

Old Toyota Corolla pulled up

And the window rolled down

To reveal WM (whom I think

Of as the beloved grandfather

Of the neighborhood. He offered 

His hand in greeting and we 

Backed up a bit to let cars

And trucks pass by. I asked 

Of his family (his wife suffers

Periodically from worsening

Dementia) but he assured me

All was well with them. He

Began informing me of two

Elderly (upper eighties) brothers

Who have used their properties

To house numerous people

Struggling to recover from 

Addictions but because of the

Advancing debilities of age

Had been considering passing

The practice to one of their

Sons. Sadly the son in question

Recently tumbled down a 

Stairway and has been rendered

Paraplegic. Caring for him will

Be a massive financial cost. As

We were talking the driver of an 

SUV stops opposite us to talk

To my friend about a matter 

Involving care for neighbors.

WM tells me, “He’s with the 

Metanoia Project [a group

In the near west side devoted

To helping homeless afflicted].”

Then kind of out of the blue he

Tells me, after I tell him I’m

OK, “You know we love you

And you mean a lot to us.”

On that note we part. When we

Get to the last of the very chi-chi

Townhouses on Clinton I notice

A young man trenching on the 

East side of the building as if 

To waterproof the outside

Of the basement wall. I talk to

Him about the irony of having to

Repair so new a construction

When his boxer, about ninety

Pounds worth of very strong

Doggy, ambles over to us with

A squeeze toy in his mouth. “He’s

Always looking to play.” I take 

The toy and hurl it not very far

But Junior takes after it, snags

It on the first bounce, and quickly 

Returns for more. “He was a 

Helper dog for a blind lady but

After seven years they retired 

Him and I got him.” After a few 

More tosses, I tell Loki, who 

Lacks a “fetch” gene, “Look,

I throw the ball and you catch it.”

He sits waiting for us to move

On. I wish the landscaper “The 

Best,” rub the Boxer’s neck

And tell him as we wander off, 

“Good boy, we love you. You

Really add to the neighborhood.”

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160429 (the fall)

I got my doubts

Gray, rainy, cold Cleveland as I

Always remember her. The iMac

Challenging me with a better

Framing of an image I took.

Medicines waiting to be applied,

Swallowed (with a meal), the

Cat’s dish almost empty (no

Wonder she was so insistent), 

The dog waits patiently for 

His bowl to fill. I have these

Two fur-covered dependents

Whom the IRS will not recognize

Plus the roof over my head also

Waiting patiently, long-suffering

I believe they call it, for its 

Glorious restoration—I have

Responsibilities, if not just to

Lay down a line of sparkling

Repartee, some observation

Worth the electrons. Bear with

Me all of you while I turn to my

Maker and express my abject

Sorrow for not doing more quickly

What I imagine His will. Who can

Do that? Apologize for infinite sin?

Not that I’m so good at it, mere

Mortal, my life circumscribed by

The beginning and cessation of

Molecular replication of one

Particular arrangement of four

Nucleotides, which, once I am 

Gone, will go on their merry

Way as simpler forms to feed 

The maggots devouring what 

Remained of my former home.

No, I was taught from childhood

That we cannot make up for our

Finite failures before the great and

Majestic Father of all. Truly,

Who shall stand when He appeareth?

How did I screw up so badly as

To be deserving of everlasting 

Wrath? They didn’t wait till 

I was an adult. I was blemished 

In the slimy package of my birth.

I tell ya something is wrong here.

This “Everyone is tainted” idea

Doesn’t work for me. Not

That it’s not fair (which it isn’t)

But for those loving, caring

Dear sisters to tell children

“Every time you disobey your

Parents, you drive those nails

Into Jesus’s hands and feet 

Deeper and deeper,” well, I

Don’t care what they taught 

You at the mother house in

Altoona Pennsylvania somebody

Got it wrong. I’m no angel fer

Sure but I never asked for anyone

To be crucified. Augustine, 

Anselm, with all due respect.

You’ve got to rethink this—

There’s too much at stake.

It’s not like I’m trying to scoot

Out of my guilt. I think I’m

Ready to bear my share.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160428 (lost in space)

Andromeda, nearest galaxy, 780 kiloparsecs (2.537million light years) away. Start walking.

Despite age and learning I haven’t

Shaken the lure of astronomy since

I first set eye to eyepiece of one of

My brother’s homemade telescopes.

A rickety thing, a six-foot long 

Galvanized steel downspout 

Fitted with hand cut wooden

Plugs to which the major lens 

And focusing tube were fixed,

All balanced roughly on a tripod

Built in the basement. I clearly

Remember the shaky hinges and

The window chain that steadied 

The legs. Steadied here should

Be understood with tongue-in-

Cheek because it was terribly

Unstable. Objects flew through

The field until finally located,

Then wobbled about because 

None could hold the long tube

Delicately enough to see clearly.

Supposedly a one hundred power

Magnification, the basic kit was

Simply two lenses with plans

For making the rest on your

Own. So much for buying a

100 Power Telescope for $10

As advertised in the back pages 

Of Boys’ Life. Still I got to see

The craters on the moon, the four

Major moons of Jupiter (I think)

And the love affair was on. What

I couldn’t see through telescopes

I studied in older astronomy

Books borrowed from the Main

Branch of the Cleveland Public

Library which for some reason

I considered more authentically

Scientific than the books I could

Find at my local branch. The 

Pictures of the planets, fuzzy

Images from the ‘twenties and

‘Thirties, photographs made over

Twelve hour exposures of the 

Nebulae delivered for me a 

Sensation of being “out of 

The body,” of being within the 

Picture, myself somehow

In space among the stars.

It wasn’t anything religious

At all as others report of such

Transcendent experiences.

Rather while not uncomfortable

I sensed an icy cold of the void

And that time no longer mattered.

Of course my father chalked all

This up to reading too much 

Trashy romantic science fiction.

Could very well have been 

Though I can still get the same

Feeling as if I could dive deeply

Within the contemporary images

Derived from modern radio, X-ray,

Instruments, even the false-color

Reprints from the Hubble. People 

Growing up and living in the 

Light-polluted cities have no 

Idea what’s in store for them,

As for me, lying on my back

In a sleeping bag open to the

Night sky at Atwood Lake,

Camping with the family,

When for the first time I saw

With my unaided eye the stars

Spread from horizon to horizon.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016