POEM #10 INTRODUCTION By midday, a poem was brewing. I felt it in my bones. It strummed the soul. No pun intended, but the surge of images and rhythms appeared just as coffee was literally brewing.   I sat at table at home with my beloved sipping French Roast Coffee, richly aromatic, an ideal pairing with bites of enseymada , tasty Philippine brioche shipped overnight from Southern California. Our little luxury for this period of social distancing and staying at home for the sake of public safety during the corona virus pandemic.   At first, I thought the words forming were about mental travel, travels in my mind, perhaps another rant about the useless Dear Supreme Leader. But no. I felt the passion, heard the music and a clear conscience standing up for the underserved. I would never have predicted where the poetry muse would take me. I even thought of my husband’s favorite photographer, Sebastiāo Salgado from Brazil. Once a World Bank economist, he aba...

PANDEMIC'S DESERTED SPACES   A deserted space can be disturbing. It speaks of empty buildings and barren earth.   Cities  once full of energy and boisterous crowds, now temporarily abandoned cause imbalance to the psyche.    Yet, the human mind adapts when prompted to  shelter in place , as we are told. Comply we must as good citizens of our town, our state, our world.   Only go out for food, medicine or other essential need. And I did exactly that, last evening before bed. I drove outside the neighborhood for prescription drugs and take-out-food. Alarming yet comforting feeling came over me that I could count on my fingers the cars that were around, a good sign, I agree.   Although relieved that many adhered as California’s governor ordered, the gravity of the crisis resounded by the sight of parking lots deserted, a state of reality in my head eerily pounded. ...