Call this - I told you so. Here's something posted on this site February 7, 2008, a few months before the dive.
market analysis
holy catfish the markets diving
and won’t come up for air
all your trouble is like a bubble
when it pops sit back and stare
no need to hurry if you want to worry
you’ve got the time to spare
but hold that frown, cause it’s going down
every stinking where
Saturday, April 25, 2009
a man desires
all a young man desires in a woman
is a good figure, some brains
an eager willingness to do all the washing,
shopping, cleaning and cooking
while being a total sex maniac on overdrive
oh, and did i say rich?
but now that i am older
it doesn’t matter anymore
just so we’re nice to each other
well, rich still would be good
is a good figure, some brains
an eager willingness to do all the washing,
shopping, cleaning and cooking
while being a total sex maniac on overdrive
oh, and did i say rich?
but now that i am older
it doesn’t matter anymore
just so we’re nice to each other
well, rich still would be good
Friday, April 24, 2009
Rome Welcome II.
My friend Rocco, who works two days a week in the administrative offices of the police department, told me that over the Easter holidays six hundred thefts were reported at the crowded Rome train station.
our friend’s vacation was scheduled
to last three weeks,
while crossing the ocean he
spent six days aboard ship in bed
not a world class lover,
wasn’t sea sick,
he had suffered a stroke
five minutes after arriving in Rome
he reached into his pocket where
four credit cards, a drivers license, reminders,
several permits, papers and
cards too important to carry
that should have been left at home
plus five hundred or more, in cash,
were all packed and gone
in his stolen wallet.
his passport remained safe in another pocket
even thieves only have two hands
we walked him around a few times
though nearly in a daze,
i think he enjoyed himself
three days later i helped him buy a ticket
then put him on a train
for the remainder of his scheduled vacation
to see his family in Switzerland
where his cousin had just died
two days before
our friend’s vacation was scheduled
to last three weeks,
while crossing the ocean he
spent six days aboard ship in bed
not a world class lover,
wasn’t sea sick,
he had suffered a stroke
five minutes after arriving in Rome
he reached into his pocket where
four credit cards, a drivers license, reminders,
several permits, papers and
cards too important to carry
that should have been left at home
plus five hundred or more, in cash,
were all packed and gone
in his stolen wallet.
his passport remained safe in another pocket
even thieves only have two hands
we walked him around a few times
though nearly in a daze,
i think he enjoyed himself
three days later i helped him buy a ticket
then put him on a train
for the remainder of his scheduled vacation
to see his family in Switzerland
where his cousin had just died
two days before
Thursday, April 23, 2009
two for the street
They started there about the time I first came to Rome.
Thirteen months ago I wrote about the two old ladies living on the corner in front of Rome’s train station. This winter one was gone. A weeks or so later, the other disappeared.
No doubt one had died and the survivor was taken weeping to an undisclosed location for the aged, derelict, and possibly mentally challenged, yet feisty.
Had twenty years on the street had done them in?
I.
winter was long and wet
the rainiest in two hundred years
so they said,
if you can believe their record keeping,
no one can contradict
for sure, everyone talked about the weather
II.
first came spring,
then the two old ladies were back again
with bags and market shopping cart
taking turns sleeping
on one of the busiest, noisiest, wind blown corners
in all of Rome
the very corner where 20 or thirty buses routes
and any of the cities six thousand taxis
turn to enter the train station to pick up passenger
thus providing
twenty-four hour traffic, stench and noise
and there, an arm’s length from the curb,
in blankets and rags do they camp,
together again on their home turf
using a bucket or the restrooms at the station,
one at a time, as needed,
the two bundled octogenarians
enduring, perhaps enjoying
the great out of doors
III.
sure they could have more
a better corner
by the sea,
an open field
or in the woods
but they took what was available
i think i should be happy for them
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
on the bus
a kid had the double front seat
he was ten, skinny and healthy
I asked for the seat and he sprung up
it’s good for him to learn now
the way of the world, how old people
impose their will on the young
anyway, he didn’t need that big seat
I’ve seen larger wrapped sandwiches,
fold the kid up and he could ride in a lunchbox
he was ten, skinny and healthy
I asked for the seat and he sprung up
it’s good for him to learn now
the way of the world, how old people
impose their will on the young
anyway, he didn’t need that big seat
I’ve seen larger wrapped sandwiches,
fold the kid up and he could ride in a lunchbox
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni
began studying early in life
carved the pieta age at 23,
the David at age 26
five hundred years later,
still marveling, fascinated,
we wait in line to see his work
occasionally deeds
done in the fire of youth
are honored for a long, long time
carved the pieta age at 23,
the David at age 26
five hundred years later,
still marveling, fascinated,
we wait in line to see his work
occasionally deeds
done in the fire of youth
are honored for a long, long time
Sunday, April 19, 2009
rome welcome
I’d like to tell you this is a love story, something fuzzy, warm and cuddly. Instead I’m kicking myself for his misfortune. It wasn't my fault. I tried to help. I'm just asking why don’t they understand that 20 years in the city has taught me things an outsider doesn’t know?.
For sure I told him to be careful. I know I did. It’s a given. After all, he was a new guy to the city, coming in to the train station for the first time. But what good was my telling him? How can someone digest the importance of everything heard in a transatlantic phone conversation, when there is the excitement of the trip to think about.
When I gave him my phone number he wrote that down. But who is going to write down the warning “watch out for thieves”?
rome welcome
a friend arrived in Italy by boat
on a luxurious sixteen day cruise
with six ports of call
to the final port an hour away
wanted to help every way i could
hell, everyone likes special treatment
offered to meet at the train
to kind of ease him into the city
this experienced world traveler
said he could easily get one block to the hotel
he was going to handle it,
would call when he got in
about the time I expected
the phone rang, he called to
tell me yes, he was in Rome and
his wallet was stolen at the train station
credit cards and about five hundred dollars
gone with the quick hands,
this is not the end of the short story,
he still has three weeks to go
For sure I told him to be careful. I know I did. It’s a given. After all, he was a new guy to the city, coming in to the train station for the first time. But what good was my telling him? How can someone digest the importance of everything heard in a transatlantic phone conversation, when there is the excitement of the trip to think about.
When I gave him my phone number he wrote that down. But who is going to write down the warning “watch out for thieves”?
rome welcome
a friend arrived in Italy by boat
on a luxurious sixteen day cruise
with six ports of call
to the final port an hour away
wanted to help every way i could
hell, everyone likes special treatment
offered to meet at the train
to kind of ease him into the city
this experienced world traveler
said he could easily get one block to the hotel
he was going to handle it,
would call when he got in
about the time I expected
the phone rang, he called to
tell me yes, he was in Rome and
his wallet was stolen at the train station
credit cards and about five hundred dollars
gone with the quick hands,
this is not the end of the short story,
he still has three weeks to go
Friday, April 17, 2009
mediterranean see me
I may change this a bit, but here it is for now. I can critique my poem and say I should stay on target. See the objective, figure out what it is I want to say, and which way the words have to go to get me there. Today I prefer to do as the crew of explorers and let myself hop on board and ride willing to participate. Letting the caravan take me wherever.
mediterranean see me
free this morning
we could get in the car
and drive five hours to a corner of heaven
for sure we’d love it
we’ve been there
with the long blue of the med,
hearing it from our bed
and the morning fishermen
in little boats
sun hats and coats
so near on dawn
so clear over calm
in a sleepy town
with Filippo’s Pizza
the best dough out of Napoli
they say, I’d say
anyway
how far do we have to go
so I can hear the shore’s chill water?
rolling stones like breathing in and out
making them rounder
smaller in long eons
until they are tiny white grains
lesser than sand
blown away like dust
off the back of my hand
thrown up by the wind
lifted straight to the sky
soaring above birds
blown riding the blue
far off out to sea
over storms
circling the globe
above the Captain’s stout grey ship on the Atlantic
twisting back into time and Grandmother’s wagon
crossing dry Arizona in the late eighteen hundreds
over arrows and Indians
then sucked tumbling down
deep in the California desert
none too soon
by dull light of moon
it's stuck deep
where it will keep
in the bark of a Joshua tree
that lives a thousand years
mediterranean see me
free this morning
we could get in the car
and drive five hours to a corner of heaven
for sure we’d love it
we’ve been there
with the long blue of the med,
hearing it from our bed
and the morning fishermen
in little boats
sun hats and coats
so near on dawn
so clear over calm
in a sleepy town
with Filippo’s Pizza
the best dough out of Napoli
they say, I’d say
anyway
how far do we have to go
so I can hear the shore’s chill water?
rolling stones like breathing in and out
making them rounder
smaller in long eons
until they are tiny white grains
lesser than sand
blown away like dust
off the back of my hand
thrown up by the wind
lifted straight to the sky
soaring above birds
blown riding the blue
far off out to sea
over storms
circling the globe
above the Captain’s stout grey ship on the Atlantic
twisting back into time and Grandmother’s wagon
crossing dry Arizona in the late eighteen hundreds
over arrows and Indians
then sucked tumbling down
deep in the California desert
none too soon
by dull light of moon
it's stuck deep
where it will keep
in the bark of a Joshua tree
that lives a thousand years
Thursday, April 16, 2009
jungle fish
you and i
haven’t seen it all
don’t say you have
don’t think about it
no need to
not all the world caresses
some hurts
and dumps upon us
in papers and magazines
the news of course, they call it that
the video, the Internet that brings pieces
bam banging slapping sounds
pumping games flashing colors into children's heads
Marshall McLuhan was right the medium is the message
now i add, TV did more to destroy the world than educate
I have seen Guatemalan jungle natives in see-through straw huts
watching far away New York soap operas
on TV powered by a noisy gas generator
the soap opera had NYC folk
in nice clothes and makeup
drinks in hand and the natives,
ready to throw a spear through a monkey,
were sitting women breast naked in
a rag covering their crotches
and I’m walking by their hut and
can look right through it
and see them sitting glazed over stuck to the screen.
maybe they flashed me the peace sign
and maybe I gave them the finger
cause they were screwed
media chunks show how people dress and hold their heads
how they clothe their pet animals
while city buses so full
those at the door exit to let others on
dead fish are laid to rest in tins and wait consumption this way
passing by are the rich and famous in their rings and finery
with guards tagging alongside
lest reality get too close
best they remain cushioned
aloof from commoners and dirt poor
on the street notices are
handed by strangers to strangers
pasted across shop windows
stuffed in trash cans or
dropped they litter the streets
are stepped upon, pushed along
where the head count clashes with
the clean, pressed white shirts and latest ties
and we, hats on backwards
in over sized sacky things to cover how fat we are
that resemble sports team garments,
wrinkled sweat stained bags with a bright bold number on it
the number of a hero on the squad
named for a predatory animal
as a sweaty tourist screams at the counter waitress
give me a coke before I die
and I see them sun glassed now
all the while quick stepping alone
bumping into each other
unaware, as if stoned
talking on cell phones
while the senseless talk to themselves
and need no phone
who is changing the world?
for all the while
the sun goes up
the sun goes down
haven’t seen it all
don’t say you have
don’t think about it
no need to
not all the world caresses
some hurts
and dumps upon us
in papers and magazines
the news of course, they call it that
the video, the Internet that brings pieces
bam banging slapping sounds
pumping games flashing colors into children's heads
Marshall McLuhan was right the medium is the message
now i add, TV did more to destroy the world than educate
I have seen Guatemalan jungle natives in see-through straw huts
watching far away New York soap operas
on TV powered by a noisy gas generator
the soap opera had NYC folk
in nice clothes and makeup
drinks in hand and the natives,
ready to throw a spear through a monkey,
were sitting women breast naked in
a rag covering their crotches
and I’m walking by their hut and
can look right through it
and see them sitting glazed over stuck to the screen.
maybe they flashed me the peace sign
and maybe I gave them the finger
cause they were screwed
media chunks show how people dress and hold their heads
how they clothe their pet animals
while city buses so full
those at the door exit to let others on
dead fish are laid to rest in tins and wait consumption this way
passing by are the rich and famous in their rings and finery
with guards tagging alongside
lest reality get too close
best they remain cushioned
aloof from commoners and dirt poor
on the street notices are
handed by strangers to strangers
pasted across shop windows
stuffed in trash cans or
dropped they litter the streets
are stepped upon, pushed along
where the head count clashes with
the clean, pressed white shirts and latest ties
and we, hats on backwards
in over sized sacky things to cover how fat we are
that resemble sports team garments,
wrinkled sweat stained bags with a bright bold number on it
the number of a hero on the squad
named for a predatory animal
as a sweaty tourist screams at the counter waitress
give me a coke before I die
and I see them sun glassed now
all the while quick stepping alone
bumping into each other
unaware, as if stoned
talking on cell phones
while the senseless talk to themselves
and need no phone
who is changing the world?
for all the while
the sun goes up
the sun goes down
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
reflections
remember someone holding
a dandelion under your chin
seeing the reflection of yellow
to determine if you like butter?
kid stuff
be good though
the day on your face
is a reflection of what you carry
in your heart
how you slept
how you’re eating
who you love
which dog you’re beating
how well you are doing
how life’s going
you may forget, but all
is written on your face
a dandelion under your chin
seeing the reflection of yellow
to determine if you like butter?
kid stuff
be good though
the day on your face
is a reflection of what you carry
in your heart
how you slept
how you’re eating
who you love
which dog you’re beating
how well you are doing
how life’s going
you may forget, but all
is written on your face
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
hope
On Pasquetta, Little Easter, the day after Easter, also a holiday because Italians have to have a holiday after a holiday that falls on Sunday so they can have a day to recover. That is how it is every time.
the large crowd in the piazza
generated a buzz like
flies on week old fish
they were tourists, few Italians
it was Little Easter, Pasquetta
Italians go out of Rome
on the little holiday after the holiday
Franco who has no means
to get out for the day
and no family to visit if he did
was in the store next to me
getting two more
scratch-off-to-see-if-you-win gambling cards
what winners get most of the time
more cards
more opportunity to hope
we stood shoulder to shoulder
he didn’t see me,
i noticed that what i thought
was a plug in his ear lobe
injured the last time he fell
was only a scab
from the way he was weaving
I knew not to speak to him
he was holiday drunk enough
to still walk
and scratch cards
while i’ve learned
there is no hope
here it was
standing next to me
the large crowd in the piazza
generated a buzz like
flies on week old fish
they were tourists, few Italians
it was Little Easter, Pasquetta
Italians go out of Rome
on the little holiday after the holiday
Franco who has no means
to get out for the day
and no family to visit if he did
was in the store next to me
getting two more
scratch-off-to-see-if-you-win gambling cards
what winners get most of the time
more cards
more opportunity to hope
we stood shoulder to shoulder
he didn’t see me,
i noticed that what i thought
was a plug in his ear lobe
injured the last time he fell
was only a scab
from the way he was weaving
I knew not to speak to him
he was holiday drunk enough
to still walk
and scratch cards
while i’ve learned
there is no hope
here it was
standing next to me
Monday, April 13, 2009
linked
we are linked to life
whether cabled-in or wireless
red lining in the fast lane
all comes naturally
as weather is to nature
dressed in style we are
in cars shinier and larger
while lousy poor people
obviously don’t care as much
they never go to club dinners
to hear the speakers drone on
or eat cake at the benefits
they don’t know the meaning of
acid indigestion
whether cabled-in or wireless
red lining in the fast lane
all comes naturally
as weather is to nature
dressed in style we are
in cars shinier and larger
while lousy poor people
obviously don’t care as much
they never go to club dinners
to hear the speakers drone on
or eat cake at the benefits
they don’t know the meaning of
acid indigestion
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
round perhaps
when she was young
she saw
the sun and moon
as circles
then she saw the ocean
walked in up to her neck
and figured
because there is depth
to consider
perhaps the ocean was round
.
she saw
the sun and moon
as circles
then she saw the ocean
walked in up to her neck
and figured
because there is depth
to consider
perhaps the ocean was round
.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
bed of nails
It is estimated there are thirty thousand suddenly homeless, clustered in many small villages near the epicenter that were destroyed by the recent powerful earthquake and aftershocks.
40 are dead of the 350 residents of Onna, Italy, one of a dozen villages completely destroyed.
another small family
a few more people
among many who feel fortunate
now living in their car that escaped disaster
near their fallen home, half collapsed,
the remainder in flames as they fled
near their neighbor’s blank faces
amid devastation and debris like bombs went off
dad does his best to cover the pain and terror
mother bursts into tears often, covers her face
wishes for her simple worn sweater left behind
she didn’t even have her favorite old sweater
close to what is left
of what they owned but can’t get to
protecting it, protecting themselves
with not much to go on
charity lines for food and water
the unknown is growing
encompassing
hugs and tears and hope
40 are dead of the 350 residents of Onna, Italy, one of a dozen villages completely destroyed.
another small family
a few more people
among many who feel fortunate
now living in their car that escaped disaster
near their fallen home, half collapsed,
the remainder in flames as they fled
near their neighbor’s blank faces
amid devastation and debris like bombs went off
dad does his best to cover the pain and terror
mother bursts into tears often, covers her face
wishes for her simple worn sweater left behind
she didn’t even have her favorite old sweater
close to what is left
of what they owned but can’t get to
protecting it, protecting themselves
with not much to go on
charity lines for food and water
the unknown is growing
encompassing
hugs and tears and hope
Monday, April 06, 2009
six point three
at 3:32 a.m. my dreams included
the bed moving
then noise
from above and the floor below
i opened my eyes to see
the hanging lamp swinging
and swinging
epicenter was
fifty miles away
having lived in California
we were experienced to know
a strong earthquake
follow up report, 9pm
30,000 are homeless.
light rain tonight.
150 dead. 250 missing.
1,500 injured.
all counts will rise.
water supplies have been cut.
the bed moving
then noise
from above and the floor below
i opened my eyes to see
the hanging lamp swinging
and swinging
epicenter was
fifty miles away
having lived in California
we were experienced to know
a strong earthquake
follow up report, 9pm
30,000 are homeless.
light rain tonight.
150 dead. 250 missing.
1,500 injured.
all counts will rise.
water supplies have been cut.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
by train to the sea
before leaving Monterosso Al Mare
i am already aching for the beauty
paining for what
i can not take with me
the voice of the sea
the breath of humidity
it is my life
my heart of hearts
II.
an hour later on the train
with five hours to go until Rome
i was beyond my longing
lost like yesterday
those far away days
over the water
over the Med
my sweet
resolved to get over
and get on with life
i let love slide
it was not coming back to me
III.
we clack the track
we’re in the first car
behind the great engine
powermeister of the rails
she asks if it is smoother in the last car
the one way behind
or do they get whip lash?
i don’t know
i think the ride is all in the
suspension of the car we’re in
something hanging over the steel wheels
kept us floating above sparks
IV.
some time later we stopped
still not there
i did nothing
for many minutes
then it occurred to me we weren’t moving
i thought to go out
for a smoke
i made it as far as outside our compartment
a know–it-all looking guy with dark darting eyes
who obviously thought well of himself
looked as if he worked there
was standing in the isle
he had the time
he had the exact time
said we had five minutes before the train started again
five minutes
he spoke with authority
i asked if he worked for the train
i went out, down three steps,
and began to lite a cig
the doors closed before i puffed
the train was moving
i barely got back on the train
my shirt caught in the closing doors
good thing it had a rubber seal
or i would have lost a piece of it
i put the cig out on the step
saved it for later
the know-it-all guy
was nowhere to be seen
.
i am already aching for the beauty
paining for what
i can not take with me
the voice of the sea
the breath of humidity
it is my life
my heart of hearts
II.
an hour later on the train
with five hours to go until Rome
i was beyond my longing
lost like yesterday
those far away days
over the water
over the Med
my sweet
resolved to get over
and get on with life
i let love slide
it was not coming back to me
III.
we clack the track
we’re in the first car
behind the great engine
powermeister of the rails
she asks if it is smoother in the last car
the one way behind
or do they get whip lash?
i don’t know
i think the ride is all in the
suspension of the car we’re in
something hanging over the steel wheels
kept us floating above sparks
IV.
some time later we stopped
still not there
i did nothing
for many minutes
then it occurred to me we weren’t moving
i thought to go out
for a smoke
i made it as far as outside our compartment
a know–it-all looking guy with dark darting eyes
who obviously thought well of himself
looked as if he worked there
was standing in the isle
he had the time
he had the exact time
said we had five minutes before the train started again
five minutes
he spoke with authority
i asked if he worked for the train
i went out, down three steps,
and began to lite a cig
the doors closed before i puffed
the train was moving
i barely got back on the train
my shirt caught in the closing doors
good thing it had a rubber seal
or i would have lost a piece of it
i put the cig out on the step
saved it for later
the know-it-all guy
was nowhere to be seen
.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
a pause
My wife’s sister is here in Rome for a visit. I will pause in this daily writing as we journey north to spend a few days near the sea.
.
.
wind chime
varied length tubes
left over plumbing copper
thumb flop strung in the wind
rolling drum bongs
ding songs bling
or mum sometime
that’s fine, until the line
they are hung on zings tight
bouncing in the wind
the string goes ting
unfolding hollow tones
chime resounding clings
so light clinging rings
follow plings and gongs
the song sung sounds long
.
left over plumbing copper
thumb flop strung in the wind
rolling drum bongs
ding songs bling
or mum sometime
that’s fine, until the line
they are hung on zings tight
bouncing in the wind
the string goes ting
unfolding hollow tones
chime resounding clings
so light clinging rings
follow plings and gongs
the song sung sounds long
.
wood chimes
above walkway bricks
wooden chime sticks
bound with cord
dangle and click
as they nick
neatly tick
or tock when blunt ends
meet slick wind flicks
trick track nicks
crick sticks in the wind
.
wooden chime sticks
bound with cord
dangle and click
as they nick
neatly tick
or tock when blunt ends
meet slick wind flicks
trick track nicks
crick sticks in the wind
.
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