by edward | Apr 27, 2020 | NaPoWriMo, Verse
Familiar

Were you really that small
At one time,
You silly Maine Coon?
I wonder, glancing at photos
Of a friend’s newly-gotcha
Kitten.
We gotcha-ed you
At almost four months,
You silly Main Coon
When a tiny furball
Would curl up in a lap.
Then your mane grew out,
And your bird-chirp started,
You silly Maine Coon,
Distinguishing you from the
Ginger kitty who came home
With you on the same day.
Any wistful thoughts of
Tiny kittens vanish,
As the internal motor winds up,
Volume increasing,
Chirping for attention.
Demands for cuddles require
Immediate response,
Reminding me that you are
My Familiar,
You silly Maine Coon.
©2020 Edward J. Branley
by edward | Apr 27, 2020 | Uncategorized
Train Ferry

Good-bye waves
Before 7am
Are fewer, as
Early travelers depart
Loved ones at home,
Allowing them to return
To bed,
After the Traveler
Gets up and dressed.
For the trip west
Grab the suitcase,
Hop on a streetcar
Whose mule is steady
And awake, already
Hard at work.
Board the train,
Settle into the compartment
For the trip west,
Amidst the organized chaos
That is business travel.
Tune out the sounds
Of the locomotive.
Ignore the smell
Of burning coal.
Focus on the riverfront
Loading, unloading
Moving the goods in demand
Around the country.
The turn of the wheels
Brings on a light transe
All too quickly broken
As the train slows,
Approaching the ferry landing.
Relative quiet.
Locomotive and cars
Roll down the landing
Onto the boat.
Smells from the dock
Give way to fresh air as
The crossing begins.
Again, the sensation is
Short-lived.
The loading process reverses.
Locomotive leaves the boat.
Train re-connects.
The Journey West
Begins in earnest
From Algiers.
©2020 Edward J. Branley
by edward | Apr 27, 2020 | NaPoWriMo, Verse
Appropriation
Songs about gay sex,
Songs popular in discos,
Songs sung by a lesbian
To her partner.
All end up co-opted by
White conservatives
Blissfully unaware
Of their origins.’s
Sometimes it’s the tune,
Sometimes the lyrics, that
Transcend origins, sparking
Deep feelings
In people who would burn,
Lynch,
Destroy the songwriter,
Because they don’t live
Their life
In lockstep with them.
Striking the feels isn’t
Usually how it works.
Ofttimes, a song gets appropriated
By people so arrogant
They believe everything belongs to
Them and Theirs
Earlier generations of Americans
Called it,
“Manifest Destiny.”
by edward | Apr 26, 2020 | Personal Log
Personal Log 20200526 has me preparing for more computer classes.

Electrical box at N. Carrollton and Wisner, painted by Jane Brewster.
Personal Log 20200526
I’ve been fortunate during our slowdown/lockdown/shutdown period. People take training when they can’t go anywhere. That’s obviously good for the trainer. Tip of the hat to the folks that market training from Hitachi Vantara’s Global Learning group. They seized the opportunity. Pitching customers, rounding up groups, grabbing Technical Consultants with too much free time.
It helps that Hitachi dropped a new suite of management software at the start of the year. We prepared for this in the fall. The folks implementing that software know to sign up for classes. Problem is, a lot of their bosses pull the plug on their people being away from the phone for more than fifteen seconds. I may have eight to ten folks signed up, and we start class with six. I suppose there’s an argument for that as a positive, as the other two to four end up in a later class.
Either way, I’m keeping busy.
Working under quarantine
“Busy” means sitting in front of the computer, talking to my own screen, using WebEx. Still making my own coffee, which is the biggest downside to the deal. I feel my people-watching skills atrophy, as we keep this up. Even on a teaching day, I got an hour to an hour and a half of sitting out on the coffee shop patio. While I didn’t mind the (relatively) close contact of the nearby regulars, now, well, not so much. I take this high-risk condition seriously.
I managed to go out to see the trains go by a couple of times this past week. Since Friday was a “lab day,” where I didn’t have lectures scheduled, Watching the Sunset Limited make its way past Central Avenue in Old Jefferson is theraputic. I’m back to trying different locations for train watching. Sitting out and watching trains pass by the Canal Blvd. underpass is easy. Now, I’m going into City Park, and back over to where the tracks cross Bayou St. John. Time to get some cemetery perspective this week, I think.
History work
Two things coming up. I pitched Derby the idea of doing a “panel discussion” via Zoom. We’ve we’ve got the subject matter worked out. I want Mark Bologna to be the moderator, as if it was a classic panel at a symposium or gathering. Mark will lend some gravitas to the thing that goes beyond Derby and I sitting at yet another coffee shop.
I also need to set up something with Ryan Bordenave! He’s such a fount of downtown knowledge. Every time I post a photo of Canal Street, Ryan’s got something to say about it that enhances the discussion. Setting that up is on this week’s to-do.
NaPoWriMo
The poetry goes well. In fact, a couple of photos that Derby’s shared on social media sparked some of the verse. I’m behind on posting them here on the website. Too many WordPress rabbit holes that are more fun to go down.
1862
Today is 26-April. It’s the day that sailors and marines from the USS Pensacola took down the “state flag” of Louisiana that was used during the “secession year” from the US Mint on Esplanade. They hoisted the US flag in its place. Then a man named Mumford pulled it down. Butler had him executed for that offense. Mumford is recognized as a martyr to the (Lost) Cause. It’s important to remind those folks that he pulled down the flag (well, a version with fewer stars) that they, their fathers, and their grandfathers went off to Europe, the Pacific, and the Middle East, to fight under. Way too many folks grew up on a diet of the Lost Cause as fact. I’ll keep plugging.
by edward | Apr 26, 2020 | NaPoWriMo, Verse
Writing Under the Q Flag

Get up.
Get out!
Fresh air on
The coffee shop patio.
Handshakes become
Elbow bumps, eventually
Turning into cautious waves
From six feet away.
The solitary runner
Continues her routine
But what of the writer,
Used to that particular table
On the coffee shop patio?
Sitting at the table
At home,
In the kitchen,
Making her own coffee.
The lack of activity,
Of cars,
Buses,
Trains,
Even the bloody garbage truck!
The quiet of the kitchen
Dries up
Inspiration and motivation.
TV off.
Computer goes to screen save.
Phone on desk
In the other room.
Chair by the window
Pen in hand.
Slow realization
There are things
In the neighborhood
Equally inspiring.