brady max

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Sunday, July 26, 2015

Summer People

Lynn Greyling

Summer People 

he was coatless as a boy should be
cutting slices through the summer air
thinking of games until finally his sneakers
touched their walk and he ran to the front
door at the end of the road-side stiching,
breath in happy panting already feeling the
touch of Emily – her family would be in the
kitchen as they were every summer- a pitcher
of cold lemonade with actual slices of lemon
floating - sugar crystals rimming the lip and
he would say “Hi” and the summer would …

But - it was all wrong – anyone could see it
the path weedy – the daylilies dead – the flag
not flapping on the rusty pole over the door –
the house sagged with that empty feel that
unbodied places get – He slumped for a long 
while against that kitchen door picking at the
flaking paint - the sun sank - his mother would 
have dinner on the table and be looking out 
the window for him - as vocabularly words tumbled
 – “incredibly, apparently, evidently, inexplicably” -
they were not coming – there was no envelope 
nattily fixed to the door with an explanation  – 
and never would there be – they were summer-
people after all – their lives as far flung-twinkling 
as stars - seemingly set forever only to flicker, flash
and without warning slice across the sky burning 
bright, and out and irrevocably over. 

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Of Purple Mountains Majesty

Of Purple Mountains Majesty  

Of purple mountains majesty I sang
in my white school assembly shirt
in days before canvas hoisting running
from the suburbs to the city park
walking with an open heart into the 
headlights of that time of all-change-
possible - each fist clenched within 
velvet gloves of hope

Monday, July 6, 2015

This quiet time of perfect balance

This quiet time of perfect balance 

Yesterday I sat up high in the trees 
light filagreed lace on velvet cheeks  
baby at breast - a breeze ruffled my
hair across his face -  I moved it -
watched the soaring swooping of 
swallows - an emerald city dream
mountains reclined to hills curved
-womanly - circling the harbor as
a mother of the universe curled hip
swelled protecting the sparkling - 
and I - sat yesterday- up high in the
trees and inhaled it all each particle
of my being with my baby too new
to be yet separate from me-glorious
this quiet time of perfect balance -
this yesterday that has never faded
in the light filagreed lace of years

Sunday, July 5, 2015



this misty whirl beyond the silence of no-where flaming to the throbbing fullness of everywhered everything - this dance of tulle - tossed with the flick of a celestial wrist- to reveal - infants blinking born - lovers walking wedded in bliss - flick - glowing rippling muscled health - flick - a caress o'er the clenched cheek in pain - flick the faded blossom of youth yellowing in the eye - again - flick - floating at the caverned head of what we imagine as a final journey - the tulle falls and lifts over the cerulean marble spinning - dotted people speak human-talk kind and heinous - flick - war and murder begin in a place of mind and deed incomprehensible and end rebuilding a way back again - and the tulle lifts and falls again and again and again in this misty place - this misty whirl - this misty mystic magic  - 
graceful, stumbling, leaping, ailing, blossoming, fading, phantasmic
dance of tulle tossed 

Friday, July 3, 2015

Answering the call ...

Answering the call ….
In honour of Patricia Brainin* – Her sanctified soul soaring still and forever   

Can one mourn the absence of light when it still shines so brightly
Can one mourn the emerald call of Erin – hills rolling to the blue sea-
sun on shimmered surface reflecting the steady smile of her eyes …
Those eyes – Oh those eyes… spilling, soaking in the wisdom of all
Can one mourn the absence of one who will never be gone?
I try to squeeze tears of pain and find the whisper of the Universal
Mother smiling sympathetic solace for my circumscribed limits
Of understanding – for She was never truly only of this world but
simply graced all she touched as she walked through leaving her
presence profoundly indelibly divine in the imprint of her footprints
in our hearts–her vision of the shimmer within all who struggled or
strode encumbered by this mortal coil – In the face of such can one
sing psalms of heavenly intercession – Can one lament the loss of
one who lives-in the beating hearts of all who were blessed with her
calm countenance – all who stood within a light that showered
glinting beams from the Source – Impossible to fully understand  
and concurrently just as purely impossible to categorically cancel -
Can one mourn the absence of light when it still shines so brightly?
I stand in the blazing illume of her life-time among us–turn my face
to the whisper in the wind – to the soft touch of a summer breeze and
I know that come the crackle of autumn leaves – come the whip of wind
of winter – come the soar of a cardinal’s crimson wings– the miracle of
spring rebirth - come all that calls the magic, mystery, magnificence of
all life and living can be – She whirls – above and of - all that colors this
spinning blue marble we all share – as she moves amongst each and all
in the eternal immortality of this shining sanctified soul.
They say that a good woman is worth her price in rubies-
Beyond price is -
Grace personified….
Smiling within us ….
Evermore ….
Thank you

Patricia Brainin - July 2nd 2015 

It was very difficult to write anything honouring the physical life on this Earth of this extraordinary individual.  Patricia Brainin was blessed with intelligence, a resilence of spirit and a certainty in the presence of a dimension that would fill a tome with any attempt at explanation.  Patricia Brainin - rebounded from a horrendous car accident that left her well over a year ago - with an almost non-existent possibility of sustaining life - yet she managed with the passion and care of those who loved her and with the spark of something that lit her calmly from within - she managed to surface from coma - to stand - to leave the hospital and to continue writing and thinking sharing her vision of the world until yesterday July 2nd when she walked into another dimension I firmly believe that she saw clearly.  She leaves a heart-broken husband and a daughter of her heart along with countless others - from her work with the  United Nations where she laisoned on all sorts of humanitarian causes to the persons she met in passing on any given day.  Patricia Brainin was not of this world and has now answered a call that beckoned with open arms.  Let us smile at the freedom of this spirit who was truly never constrained in a life that she enjoyed to its fullest.  

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Long ago and yet so clear...

Long ago and yet so clear...

Long ago and yet so 
clear and shimmered
two young faces ran
through the night and
stood spontaneously 
connecting under a 
raised rug protecting
purloined perfection 
Long ago and yet so 
clear - the story - 
the life - 



Had an idea an idea I had sitting there
on the mailbox - legs swinging had an
idea - holding an old book broke spine 
safe in both hands-tight - had an idea - 
sitting there on the mailbox - toasting 
my behind in the summer sunlight -
Had an idea sitting there on the mail-
box - no-where, no-way, to walk, no-
where to wander - nowhere here - no
else-Where?-Sitting there on the mail-
box - that book warm in hands mine - 
had an idea bigger than all in records -
of time - fold myself to a single page -
words of my soul dancing as I slip to 
the soft dark engage in the tumble of 
soft slips of whirling words - and wait 
to mail my own self to wherever I am 
meant to be 

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Take it Down!

Jermaine Rogers *

Take It Down!

It don't symbolize
sarsaparilla or mint
julip or magnolia
blossoms floating
in soft summer sun
It don't symbolize 
sweet sugar sounds
moving slow-sliding
like strap-molasses
no more than than
a swastika symbolize
-sweet apple strudel
It sure don't symbolize
Southern - Dig - 
nity - Nothing
dignified about
hauling up hatred
up on mast....
So stand up and - 
Take it down ...


* thank you to Jermaine Rogers for graciously granting his permission to post his brilliant cartoon with this   poem ...

Sunday, June 21, 2015

a note from our youngest "child"...

Mommy loves me I know that's true
But I wouldn't be here if not for you!!!


Saturday, June 20, 2015

My father held his woman-love

My father held his woman-love 
hard and fast in that never-forgotten
facet of his heart – they wander now - still never separate
Their love still tremulous in the architecture of my soul 
He - progenitor of my being – creator of my city of customs
I live on - in - the moral, creative traditions of his essence –
He - vibrant, vivid, shimmering and present –
in the holds of my heart – remember-ing -
Forever and always as long as I draw his given breath