Saturday, June 06, 2009

garage sale

an alert notice bannered the local paper
attention – don’t miss it
the once-a- year whole town garage sale is a happening
and god almighty good glory the sun is shining today

folks in colorful, rumpled, weekend-casual
doin' a bit o'work leisure wear
have unloaded all manner of goods
that pack, end to end, the parking lot
where make-do tables and stacked boxes are set
row upon row
displaying once cherished items
now calling for your money, money, money
just a little of your money
cause these would-be venders don’t
want to store it any longer

more or less recently fresh coffee
and bakery goods are available at a trailer
all moderately priced for the good spirited group
now streaming like buffalo
amid sale items that are overall:
fifty per cent plastic, twenty percent broken,
the rest miscellaneous or generally non classifiable,
including the chipped and rusted
all discounted to rock bottom prices

no music blares, only excited hometown chatter is heard
in the flood of curious meanderers
in sun hats, suspenders, comfy shoes and canes,
elbow to elbow walking proud

including children on bicycles, in strollers, some towed
all in a great moving wave
along the sea of heads down, eyes alert,
hard core bargain hunters,
seeking and assessing under priced treasures,
most destined for little use
or to be packed away
until recycled again
some other day
at a future, as yet to be announced,
be ready when it comes, garage sale

Friday, June 05, 2009

if women

if women are so damn gentle
why does she get upset more than me?
I mean, i swept the porch,
she didn’t see,
only the lousy pile of debris
I left on the other side,
from sweeping the drive
sakes alive and Wah!
so it wasn’t put in a trash can, thirty lashes
we have four days before the trash guys arrive

she works hard and right
I commend her, she keeps all neat
runs her half of the ship tight
my list of good I do includes mud
not tracked in on my feet – how ‘bout that!
am I sweet, or what?

have to remind myself
she sees things her way, not mine,
cause astrologically speaking – we were born in
different places at different times,
must allow for different hearts,
different stops, different starts, different graces
we get things done at a different paces
boys versus girls in the human races
and so it goes

now, if I’m not hard enough
maybe it’s because I wake up early each day,
my skin gets too soft
from gentle morning sunshine
baby kissing my eyes,
she’d probably say the sun light in my eyes
goes in deep alright,
and has dried out my brain

Thursday, June 04, 2009

reflection

as i reflect it seems
there are two extremes
beginning and end
with which to contend

my report begins in motion
a start somewhere in the middle
for the real beginning was so long ago
that i don’t hope to know

and beyond my lines
the end will come in view
but more will notice
when the end is past
certainly not me
and i doubt if you

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

the wall

the wall between us
is nearly transparent
as i can see
we can live within, i have found

and walk around half off the ground
through misty vapors
crowned with windows
to gothic cathedral height

invisible as sweet music
unfolding with the stars at night
treading softly on the grass
all seems so profound

as easily we pass
turning to the sound
with outstretched arms
we circle, around, around and around

enough of this that both
gladdens and saddens me
it is for you too
look around, go and see
i am yours, you are mine
we share the way
it’s ours this day
if we’re so close
why are you always
on the other side?

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

mourning doves

more than any other bird not on disassembly lines
an estimated 70 million are shot by hunters annually,
while other birds make happy songs
mourning doves emit a plaintive lament - coo coo coo
a favorite sound since mornings of my youth

look for them not in deep woods, but in open fields
and sitting on telephone wires
doves fly a swift 55 miles an hour in straight lines
eat only seeds
their poorly constructed nest tends to fall apart

unlike other birds, doves blink
sad like circus clown Emmet Kelly
who swept the spotlight with a broom,
they are cute,
yet, pitiful

Monday, June 01, 2009

Clockster Doctorettes

it’s three o’clock
my god – stop the clocks
you know which ones
take the weights off and the pendulums
load them in the car, gently
don’t forget the wind up keys
we’re on our way to the Clockster Docterettes
who claim knowledge to repair antique clocks
good luck to us – we’re on the way

speeding through tiny towns with hills wavy pretty
looking like that’s what snow is made for
send me a picture
then grant, sycamore, and state streets
where we dropped off the clocks for an estimate
oh, my – an estimate
hey , they run fine
give them a squirt of clock oil
not a frontal lobotomy


on the way back we passed camp Quilter –
she thought it said Quitter
at the local small town roadside drive though feed house
she got a large soft drink
the size of an Opel Cadet,
any larger it would need turn signals

i popped my ears trying to suck a small shake
the consistency of a goodyear tire
i sucked and sucked and then popped up a freezing slug
that hit the roof of my mouth and landed on my teeth
like two hundred pounds
of frozen dancing reindeer in tap shoes
i saw stars, screamed in pain
nearly passed out from the shock
but kept the car on the road
and sped us home

no call yet from the Clockster Doctorettes

Sunday, May 31, 2009

beyond the pale

the one left in tall grass
behind the building out back
there is no hope
there just plain is

screw loose and fancy free
I have the time
and the inclination
don’t forget loveable

too bad I’m not magnetic
with an important message
like one you love and stuck on the refrigerator
but know so well by heart you ignore it

Saturday, May 30, 2009

major antique barn

motor down the lonesome highway
to the major antique barn
that says it all
has it all
got to be haunted

pristine condition
repairable for the most part
hardly used or damn near worn smooth
from the ten thousand times junior
threw it down the stairs
dragged it down the street
and left it in the rain
before he buried it in the backyard

keepsakes once stuck in dusty corners
hidden by crazy aunt Beulah under the floor,
uncle Ned found it behind the attic
from the back of drawers
the bottoms of closets
taped behind a false wall in the bathroom
pulled out and sold off by the children
or left behind in the garage after a move

come look and wander by
wonder at thousands of memories

treasures from some once upon a long time ago
been in the family for ages
made there and carted here
old when grandma had it
original paint
each item a loving story now forgotten
there may be all for some
and could be some for all
break it - you buy it

Friday, May 29, 2009

robins eyes


It is said when a pickpocket walks down the street and all he sees are pockets.


you know robins see the worms
when they’re hopping around out there,
that’s how they find them
one after the other
from looking

they see the movement,
sharp eyes
too bad i couldn’t train one
to take the eye test for my driver’s license
if their legs were long enough to hit the brake
i’d let one drive me around
i feel lucky
and i’ve got insurance

Thursday, May 28, 2009

all depends

no mowing today
straight rain for a second day
good for the earth
good for the crops
thank God
or the weatherman
depends what channel you’re tuned to

running wild

look out now
take heed
you’ll need
to hide the feed
cause in the lead
at great speed
here comes greed
the mighty steed
leaping hard
running wild

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

where's the old town?

where’s the old town?
gone with the old timers
who used to always be hanging around,
in an out of the stores and the bars
and the pool hall, Red and Woody, Danny and Duck Eggs
and all the ladies jolly and fair
can’t name ‘em all

driving, some’d stop right in the
middle of Main Street and just talk,
others drove around them
well i seen ‘em all, seems just a while ago,
now they’ve vanished like arrowheads in the fields
and the clear water creeks
or cut down with the woods i guess

just in the door of the old diner
i waved off a menu and ordered coffee
“alls i’m sayin’ is”
concentration please, eyes on the ball
tongue half hanging out mouth
i watched a guy stacking peas on his knife
with his fingers
you got to be kidding me

the clang, clang, clang, clang at the railroad crossing
a hundred yards away now a metallic
tap, tap, tap, tap buried under traffic hum
talking how Old Mrs. Batt swings right in order to turn left
“ warms up to a turn” he said and laughed
dipping toast into gravy

bits of chatter and the clack of cups and forks on plates
bounced the walls and ricocheted my way
thank god they never have a radio blarin’
my hand over my cup so
the waitress wouldn’t top off my coffee,
had it just right where I wanted it
talk jumped to school band practice,
I heard, “damn drum thunder”
they callin’ the tribe in, are they?

i sipped dark java and then turned my head to the window
where afternoon light danced in through the old maple tree
making patterns across the checkered table cloth
“pea brain ass wipes”
light rain pattered on the roof
a second later the door opened and
sally came in with her new bouffant-and-a- half, she checked it with a touch
and did a wiggle strut, as she moved to sit down
on that overgrown empty lot, over on the corner, there used to be a house
an abandoned wreck half fallen, they tore the rest down
it wasn’t that bad a place, as i recall
“hot damn, ‘s nearly summer”
pick ups trucks parked outside, this old joint was hopping
still has antlers on the wall i observed
and it made me smile

still churning and a kicking,
the old town’s a sleeping babe
that rolled over, curled a leg
and tucked the covers under her chin
taking up a new position

nearly june

nearly June and our swinging sun
has worked it’s way around the side of the house.
a good odd thing the settlers did
laid the streets at a thirty degree angle
north by north east to south by south west
credit also to god, and the way the river runs

by June, at our 41 degree northen latitude
the morning sun leaps into the windows
on what we call the north side of the house
how about that,
what a sparkle

what a pleasant change for the summer
sun coming in from the north, sorta
that first golden hour of dawn,
a delight to wake up to
or, at least, have coffee with.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

frog 09 - the season opener

after the usual cold Ohio winter
dryness came - no rain for a while
cool air has packed her bags and left
now finally spring is leaning on summer


we cleaned up the results of long winter neglect
got everything ready for the new season
things look changed, charged and reset, even the frog,
looking as if he recently crawled from his winter mud bed


Herb took nearly a week to get reacquainted
with us and the new frog year
now he’s talking to us again, like old times
today it rained, all day, on and off


this warm and sticky evening, in drizzle at dusk he hopped
out to the side and up to the heavy plank
that spans the pond
a few more hops to the middle, to reconnoiter


tonight he’ll use darkness and the rain to roam for a while
or call other roamers in, it’s what home frogs do
we’ll wait and see how it develops,
it's what frog watchers do

miracle heavenly father

Author Henry Miller said if one believes, then miracles happen. I don’t think you have to believe; I think it is up to us to pay attention to recognize when they occur.

today as i drove from a side road
a mile down a major heavy traffic area
at forty-five miles and hour
things went my way

through a dozen green traffic lights without pause
then onto the freeway when
it occurred to me
there is a divine something

the lights changing for me
didn’t happen by chance
luck is not in my repertoire
don’t believe in accidents

it had nothing to do with diligence or hard work
i was aware it was divine intervention,
no idea why the sudden miracle, i must have been due
haven’t changed my life style for doodley

Monday, May 25, 2009

robin's

robins and robin’s sons
from sun to sun, year to year
and the little bird girls too
have known our ways for generations

they fear us less
cause we live here too
we’re practically furniture
to fly around

and they keep returning
the same extended family
pecking around as we pass by
they don’t startle now and fly away

worms they want
and worms they’ll find
insects too, for the little ones

breed ‘em
feed, em
keep out of the way

teach them to find their own food
it’s robin’s work
in a robin’s day
it's a robin's world

Sunday, May 24, 2009

best of both worlds

best of both worlds
it could be that way
as some perceive
as some friends say

for we spend time there
and some time here,
whether far or near
rapidly goes another year

as Romans have
a summer country home
so we do we, only ours
is in another country

quiet of the weekend

quiet of the weekend
final page of another week
turn out in comfortable clothes
stay at home chores present themselves

a pause from our regular endeavors
regroup to do it again
be thankful for what we have
mark it all down in the good

Saturday, May 23, 2009

eyes down

five minutes to home
she found an odd button
that we put in the jar
for such things

her eyes to the ground
everywhere we go
oh, what she’s found
the jars are filling

she’s found money, buttons, badges,
chain, earrings, hair clips,
combs, pendants, knobs, hats, balls, t-shirts
and kittens in a tree

flying back this time
she stood up in the isle
bent down, picked up a quarter
others didn’t see

no matter where we are
don’t have to ask or remind her
whatever i need, i wait a bit,
she’ll find it

Friday, May 22, 2009

pond again

late May turns warmer
on the verge of mosquitoes
June bugs, and dragon flies,
fat dove on the roof of my lab
observes a moment, then is gone,
very small bunny running,
eating, playing, sitting, testing his speed
then a long day working robin,
always first one up, last one down,
swoops in,
scares the bunny up to speed again
Herb the frog stays center pond
makes his noise
we repeat it,
taking in nature
from lawn chairs
on the side line