Sunday, February 19, 2017



sometimes i work harder and sleep longer,
or drink more coffee and think of days
spent far away - other places, other times,
i'll take my pick, depending on the weather,
how the sun is shining, how the wind blows.

now where i'm sitting the sun is in my eyes;
but isn't it grand...because that's the same sun
you're looking at; amazing.
that's how it functions...
world without end.

you know, when i used to make a camp fire
wood would burn down and there'd be no fire.
the sun has been burning since before we were,
so how does it do that and not turn to ashes?
who's adding fuel to the fire?



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Saturday, February 18, 2017




just read February has been the warmest on record.
they say it will be 65 Fahrenheit today here in Ohio;
meanwhile Trump is complaining about the news media.
i'm glad there is something to read with coffee in the morning.

well, where is the snow?
it's the dead of winter...time for blizzards.
so where did it go?
certainly not as i remember.

kids have to play, you know...days off school.
while old people watch white pouring down,
thick on the ground, all around, packing us in.
this year i never had to look for my boots.


.

chi gung



fingers on the collar bones,
rotate the head around, slowly.
both directions. my neck pops
like i'm wringing a stalk of celery



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Wednesday, January 18, 2017

maria




she has gone now.
got word this morning;
alberto called. before he said
i heard the message in his voice

she...a few words yesterday,
wanting to say to me...
then dropped the phone.
i know you friend, maria.






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Saturday, December 31, 2016



to creeks jumped
and those fallen into.
to bridges crossed,
those ducked under.

to all frogs and fish,
birds and the clouds,
rain in the forest,
over brambles, through fields,

and down long highways.
in sun, snow and quiet nights,
flowers, weeds and vegetables included;
a salute to the finish and new beginning.






.

Monday, December 26, 2016



waiting for james.
he stopped by a month ago,
oregon to ohio,
to Boston, to Rome.
back with his brother
52 and 50,
the drummer and the unpredictable,
nicest guys i could know.
known 'em grow.
said he'd be here last week
that was the plan
now short hours away,
ahead of the snow.
he and Alex heading to Portland
and adventure.
while i read...check out the window,
waiting for james



.

Saturday, December 24, 2016



had coffee...
tapped my spoon on the table,
no sugar for me,
ate enough cookies this week.
gazed out the window
saw more parking spaces than usual,
and fewer birds; seems they all
flew home for the holidays..
gazed more... thought
of warm water swimming,
took just one last cookie
for dipping.


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Thursday, December 22, 2016



the olives can go in the refrigerator
is what she said to me
can they now? that got my attention,
i squinted at her

didn’t believe her, not then.
that was absolutely not true.
those olives can’t go anywhere,
watch them; even if they tried.

i know for a fact, no doubt about it.
take a load off, olives,
you can put the load right on me.
your going days are over.



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Wednesday, December 21, 2016



such a beautiful Christmas tree
nearly twenty feet tall
in the neighbors front yard,
been watching it for years;
he's not using it anyway.
our ceiling at home reaches seven,
i only need some off the top.
i'll buy neighbor kids beer
have them cut the top at night
and deny involvement

forget the above. I remembered Gregory
Corso's beat generation poem about
learning to drive and
mowing friends down:
humor from another generation.
unkind doesn't work now
when we need to go easy,
we surly do.
we need kindness, even in humor.



.


practically Christmas
a few days to go
they say it will rain
how can they know?
staying home i'll sing in my head
White Christmas...
"may your days be merry and bright"
at night go to bed



.


shortest day of the year
can you feel it?



.

Tuesday, December 20, 2016



five days before christmas
a mexican food lunch
loosen up




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Thursday, December 08, 2016




i awaken and look at the news
then i'm sorry i did, for what i read;
for what is said saddens me.
where is the love and the dreams?

softness, it seems, is waylaid by power
and grandeur of prominence.
shall we avoid the sweet scent of flowers?
give mankind gentle notions again.



.

Saturday, November 26, 2016




America has computers.
Pick an issue and a day;
in 24 hours know exactly
what the people say.



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Friday, November 25, 2016




a lazy gray day watching droplets;
well, first sensing them until
i looked beyond thin curtains
to see silver sprinkles puddle up.

visible from my easy chair,
pearls splatter and shatter softly.
will pour later is the consensus
of weather forecast providers.

i sip coffee to heed what is
given by professionals or,
as in days of old, will dauntlessly
draw my own conclusions.



.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016



2016 super moon, bright white
and larger; nearest until 2034.
got up at 2:00 and saw it a minute;
went back to bed. slept through most of it.





.

Sunday, November 13, 2016



you can yell at the dog
he'll feel bad
and not remember
why you're yelling at him.



.

Saturday, November 12, 2016




two horses
in the small corral
stand in extreme opposite corners,
though horses like company.

these two must have been
together long enough;
each knows
what the other has to say.



.

Friday, October 28, 2016

waiting in rome



the function of bureaucracy
is to make you wait
to show who is boss
to keep you little people down,
in place, engaged

there is a seat, take it
it will be a while
take a number
grasp the ticket
no one will look at it
but it gives you
something to hold on to



.

Sunday, October 23, 2016

nothing doing




from fifty yards away, black and white,
serene on the banks of a placid pond.
i watched for fifteen minutes
fifteen geese taking life easy

they sat or stood in the sun,
a few briefly walked a tight circle,
then sat again. content with time off
from what they do when they're busy


.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016



october wind and warm/
still, pancakes for breakfast were just right/
u sure?/
wait...there aren't two voices in a poem./
tell Shakespeare/
his were different/
and yours is the same?/
well, not the same...You know i made your part up, don't you?

Thursday, October 06, 2016



by request -
hey, tomc
okay, hey
it's national poetry day

i'll wait for intergalactic poetry day
and the new planet they found,
where life has just begun
a mega-gazillion miles away/

so after a giga-zillion years
it's not spinning on it's axis/
there it's still ten in the morning - day one/
what fun. spinning takes practice.

went to Oregon
bought marijuana in a store.
smoked a joint. it took three days.
didn't finish it all.
best i felt in years.
$9, it was fine.
couldn't bring any back to Ohio.
come on, America.
the young can bang heads playing football;
we old want to sit in a chair, relax
and feel good.


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Monday, September 26, 2016




fog in the morning,
we used to say thick as pea soup.
now, perhaps it's broccoli du jour
jesus crimney - i mean it



.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

rain louder than the train




harvest moon so soon it seems,
though it's been a year;
this night i stayed in bed, didn't open the curtain to look.

Then a brilliant flash at three
and i counted the seconds eight, nine, ten, eleven...rumble.
again a flash - i counted to nine that time.
nine miles away.

i imagine the storm diminished
as i slept gain
until rolling thunder when i woke at six.
left to right, across the sky.
and the rain was louder than the train...two trains around seven.
pouring hard on and off this morning.

This night i slept well,
wrapped in good thoughts and dream.
how about you...how'd it seem?



.

Sunday, September 11, 2016



that place without time

where i go in dreams
is all...it seems/

boundless, sweet love



.

Thursday, September 08, 2016




Went to the grocery store
bought a ham sandwich.
At home she cut it in two.
I asked which half was mine.

While cleaning up the last of the mustard she blew all over the floor
she zeroed right on it when she said,
"Take the half that doesn't have a bite out of it."

There wasn't any mustard on it either.


.

Saturday, September 03, 2016



Old friends are special;
if you can deal with old coots.







.



i hear the softest melody
when i think of you.






.

Sunday, August 28, 2016



My, it's hot. even
inside air conditioned;
dampness creeps the walls
and clings to you.

Not a day to stroll shady woods.
skip that. they say it'll be cooler tomorrow.
why not sit down, relax;
sip green tea.



.

Friday, August 26, 2016



when it's warm out
and work is done
i'll sit quietly
and wonder.


.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016




The whistle seemed a good idea
lets people know a train is coming.
First a guy invented the whistle,
Another said, "I can make it louder."

We live a half mile away,
over the hill and down a bit.
every morning after the train runs through town
I have to straighten the pictures on the wall.

addendum

Someday they'll find
those early morning,
ultra blasting train whistles
blew America's mind.

Thursday, August 11, 2016



already summer is moving on
don't have a final tally
the garden's given many veggies
now, it's yours to rally

took the wire from the garden,
come on, boy, don't chu dally
we win, we do; and you do too
we'll call it bunny valley












.

Monday, August 08, 2016

geeze cake


Seek and enjoy.
when you find, and we found
a breakfast spot, another
not a big corporate job...
a little ma an' pa,
and this one had cheesecake.

ok, not your usual breakfast fare but, how about it...
four different kinds, brought from Cleveland.
cherries, blue berries, straw berry and another..
call it a wonder berry...I can't remember.
oh, yes, to look at them is fattening. What a way to go.
I tried a piece...no, not tried, I ate a piece.
As good as I imagined...as good as you can imagine.
hmmmmmm...cheesecake.

Saturday, August 06, 2016

spinning




two eggs, two pancakes, i ordered.
the chubby waitress, embarrassed
about her glasses; still cute and kind.
and the world goes on spinning;

sipped coffee by the window.
i see giant nimbus clouds roll by.
geeze, big as old sailing ships.
thought of mocking-birds, used to hear them.
Uncle Clifford's hand pump well,
and fresh, clean, country water splashing.

then outside, a drunk on a bicycle stops traffic.
he's old enough to know better.
and the world goes on spinning.
i'm glad there is nothing for me to hang on to
or i'd write the same poem every day.