Let It Be a Dance: Words and One-Liners
by Ric Masten
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 HEALING THROUGH THE CREATIVE ARTS
Ric Masten, let it be a dance: words & one-liners, Carmel, CA: Carmel Publishing Co. 2001 223 pp $30
Ric Masten is an unusual person in many ways. He is a rare combination of a poet with a big heart, wry humor, intellectual insight and emotional intelligence. In addition, he has developed a form of art he calls “one liners.” These are drawings that are created in a continuous line, without lifting pen from paper. I find them to be meditative visual labyrinths.
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Dance in the now
Even in this blight
Infested place.
This patch of weeds...
This most holy place
From Lachman & Masten,
Parallel Journeys
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DANCE BENEDICTION
yes!
let it be a dance
let life be a dance
because we dance to dance
not to go anywhere
and let it be a dance
let life be a dance
because within the dance
we move easily
with the paradox
knowing
that for every step forward
there must be a step back
and anything else
would have us marching
away from the music
From Masten's On-line
WORDS AND ONE-LINER page
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This series of Haiku like poems I dedicate to my Tai Chi teacher Catherine Elber Wenner. I have made the titles of the 19 movements the first line of each verse.
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T'ai Chi
sunrise — sunset
I gaze at the horizon
breath sweeps mind
the ancient wheel
an old man works
weeping with joy
ocean currents
the dark slow dance of kelp...
a glimpse of stars
sea waves
a wash of reflected sky
stolen footprints
slow flight
the condor dips and circles
embracing the air
daughter on the mountain
tends her greenery
the faint scent of sage
daughter in the valley
blanket of snow
and a tea kettle singing
seasons of change
the sympathy of maples
a mirror image
the tides
laden with treasure
a hand written note
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From Masten's collection from his website postings
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renewal
midway between dawn and dusk
peanut butter sandwiches
two rivers meet
together
they leave Pittsburgh
the waterfall
against her misty apron
a bird in flight
the winding river
from the window seat
a long lazy blue ribbon
where the river meets
the sea
in the froth of confusion
steelhead leap
light in the hidden temple
a line of pilgrims
shadow dancing
silent strength
pushing against the stillness
giving way
golden journey
coins spill brightly
from hand to hand
passing clouds
and the billow of sheets
prayers in the wind
unveiling
the statue comes to life
as day opens
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Masten has risen to the challenge of having prostate cancer, writing of his experiences of diagnosis, treatment and questioning the meanings of life ... sharing many of his inner and outer experiences through his poetry and art.
He co-authored a book on these experiences with Larry Lachman, PsyD, a psychologist who himself has faced the challenge of prostate cancer at a very young age. (See book review in this issue of IJHC.)
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DIGITAL EXAM
digital was such a sanitary hi-tech word
that is until my urologist sneaks up from behind
and gives me the bird
shocked and taken back
I try to ignore the painful experience
by pondering the conundrum of homosexuality
there had to be more to it than that
"You can get dressed now"
was the good doctor's way of saying
"Pull up your pants, Dude,
and I'll see you back in my office."
but his casual manner seemed to exude foreboding
"There is a stiffness in the gland
demanding further examination.
I'd like to schedule a blood test,
ultrasound and biopsy."
The doctors lips kept moving
but I couldn't hear him through the sheet
of white fear that guillotined between us
CANCER! The big C! Me?
I spent the rest of that day
up to my genitals in the grave I was digging.
Hamlet gazing full into the face of the skull
"Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well, Horatio.
Before scalpel took gland.
Back when he sang in a bass baritone."
desperate to rise above my lower regions
I channel surf HBO
only to find that every selection that evening
bordered on pornography
so I turn to the illustrated brochure
the informative flier
detailing the upcoming procedure
where in the ultrasound and biopsy probe
resembled the head
of a black water moccasin baring its fang
"Dang!" says I jumping back
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relief came 36 hours later
something about the PSA blood test
the prostate specific-antigen results
leading the doctor
to now suspect infection
prescribing an antibiotic
of course five weeks from now
the FOLLOW-UP APPOINTMENT!
and as the date approaches
tension will build
like in those Lethal Weapon Action films
when you know there's a snake in the grass
and Danny Glover isn't there to cover your ...
From: let it be a dance; also in Parallel Journeys
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MOTHER'S VOICE AS PART OF THE ESTATE
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thank god
it wasn't me she doted on
otherwise I'd have been the one
chosen to inherit Birdy
mother's irksome parrot
that dubious honor was bequeathed
to her youngest son... the pet...
the one who could always get
his way with the queen...
got it in the end...
the talking albatross I mean
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the rest of us stifling a grin
as we watched the two of them begin
an ephemeral relationship
that didn't make it through the fall
but then
I doubt if anyone could live
with the disembodied voice
of a dear departed mom
still calling his name
"Donn!"
still ruling the roost
cigarette hack and all
my daughter Jerri
the Florence Nightingale
of animal husbandry
was next in line to take the orphan in
and climb the wall...
mother's prattling remains
quickly passed along
to an unsuspecting friend
who out of desperation
took the bird
to see a pet psychiatrist
and the fowl lobotomy that followed
exorcised out every vestige
of mother's zany sense of humor
leaving Birdy
well-behaved but spiritless
enunciating
with the generic inflection
of a network radio nonentity
and now that it's over
I kick myself in the pants
for not seizing the opportunity
to tape-record our family history
while I still had the chance
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ENDLINE
I've always been
a yin/yang — front /back — clear/blur
up/down — life/death kind of guy
my own peculiar duality being
philosopher slash hypochondriac
win win characteristics
when you've been diagnosed
with advanced prostate cancer
finally the hypochondriac
has more than windmills to tilt with
the philosopher arming himself
with exactly the proper petard
an explosive statement
found in an e-mail message
beneath the signature
of a cancer survivor's name
a perfect end line wily and wise
quote: I ask God:
"How much time do I have before I die?"
"Enough to make a difference."
God replies
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See also:
Mother's Voice
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