Friday, March 09, 2012

Rome is always like this

walked down for wine
like a Johnny cash song
went down the line
and the morning’s fine

for venders and buyers.
on getting food for the table
that’s the general idea of it.
warm in the sun, cool in the shade.
Roma e sempre cosi
that's how it's made, i guess.

at the market i salute my friends.
making ends meet they are, listen -
resolute in packs and calls
over pole and canvas market stalls

a crowd of tourists browse not buying,
instead take photos of vegetables
after a night a carousing streets and alleys
that link and form ancient Rome in new times

in the initial hint of spring this year of 2012
not going to delve meteorologically, just got up, i’m sleepy
so i’ll just go out and buy wine, out there where i said,
so i can get on my way back home again and see what happens

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

notes on to do

let's not call it poetry today
in my land of a stuff i write
this rich field is opened,
soil turned, dug up a bit

in the work area are partially realized
objects on the bench
moved around and dusted just enough
i can find most things when i need them

pieces for up future construction
some i know by partial-temporary names
and look for a glance to say "not yet"
others are forgotten and then rediscovered

mail arrives later,
one less thing to do for now
email anytime i care to look
it's a mystery - perhaps or perhaps not

too bad they don’t use horses
my granddad used to
wash them in the military
he wasn't a colonel

don’t know if grandfather had a brother
while some families
can track before 1600
only to uncover that the defect persists.

what did the Lord do the one day he rested?
did he have hobbies, wear shoes, have regular chores?
did God write poetry, or,
was fabricating the entire universe
enough creative expression to keep him occupied?

make a note: are we better than
bunnies, ducks and rabbits?
it’s good they invented eyeglasses
say, and when we’re done
are we really done?

center in the heart

the ghetto piazza
border to yesterday
with benches to sit
where there is sun

between not so high old buildings,
piazzas large enough to linger.
this fine spot to pause
during the rush of pre mid day

softly cosmopolitan this part,
forgiving in manner,
proud and stable,
a center in the heart of Rome.

song of the waters

song of the waters
quiet nearly, not quite,
there is a calming murmur,
the sea in prayer
remembers with swirling soft motion.
how it moves
in seagulls and sun;
shining glimmers,
fish jumping.
the liquid heart of the earth;
the ever so. bloodline.

all rights reserved

M. today suggested
after observing yet another
very large ass jiggle by and by
and jiggling, on and on

there, she pointed,
these could earn cash;
perhaps with a sign
on the backside.

advertising everywhere
a billboard butt - all rights reserved.
money earned could be donated;
either that, or buy a lot of Snickers.

Monday, March 05, 2012

street tapping dancers

in sun and springtime here they come
the two dancing girls are heads up, reeling
sunday in the piazza, prancing in style
see ‘em strut to the old tunes.

made note of 'em last time so i know
was four days shy of four years ago.
they’re still in uniform, taps and hopping.
get back, they’re doing to what was once called swing.

their vintage music in a box - hear it ring.
got the action crowd pausing at the thing.
a small girl picked up their mic, then
they gently coaxed it back again.

the songs from the forties were jumping.
a drunk got up in line, danced along for a bit,
his few practiced moves were brief,
just a minute in the sun, in his groove, to our relief.

canes, bold black and white costumes, top hats,
click-click, tap-taping, roll on sunshine, click, click,
coins drop in the hat, amid appreciative smiles.
rat-a-tat-tat, oh, they left the crowd clapping.

Sunday, March 04, 2012

no books

no books in piles around me anymore.
it’s electronic read things
manufacturing each other
while singing “robots are good cha cha cha”

i hear their chant in unison,
like the mechanical mice they practically are;
tapping feet to the beat.
enjoy their music? click, click, click.

people had to rest and eat,
even wanted money – hah!
the new system is up and running
serving the rich and whoever’s in.

so with technology improving
tell me when will i see
a little spilling over,
helping write my poetry?