when they were young

in the mid 60’s my buddy bill got
tickets to Mershon Auditorium
in Columbus, Ohio, a night
twenty-five hundred people packed in

we were the two white guys in the crowd
to see Gary U.S. Bond, Major Lance, the Drifters
the Temptations, The Ronettes, The Supremes
and Ray Charles

one after another
these great performers
huffed and puffed
and blew the house away

i remember when Ray was going into the falsetto
turnaround on Georgia on My Mind
there is a tiny pause at that point
the audience was silent in anticipation
a woman screamed out – Oh, sing it Ray, baby
Ray chuckled, the audience smiled and he did it

they all did it
knocked ‘em down
one after another
for everybody
all together
this night of music and love

back to the dentist

back to the dentist
maybe i should rent a bed there
find some second hand equipment
and do it myself, then again

the government checking itself for corruption
is like me checking myself for a bad tooth
cause even if i find one
i’m not going to do an extraction

today the dentist was doing my back upper
and used a little mirror to see
seemed rather tricky to me
he had to pause for a few seconds for something to dry

both he and his assistant did a habitual freeze, waiting
playing statues, like a comedy routine,
i laughed, my mouth was full of equipment,
so i couldn’t explain to them what was so funny

and they looked at me
like what is wrong with this guy?
and I’m the one in the chair with my mouth open
with their equipment and hands in my mouth

drove to the college town

a half hour drive away
we had coffee and a scone
where young students were about
more life than we usually see

there was traffic and people walking
as we passed several houses for sale
nothing in particular for us
though we tried to like what was there

the town wasn't special today
it was fine, but didn’t have our names on it
up and down the streets looking
then a while later we drove back home

when you see it you’ll know it
that’s what we hear all the time
and although we desire a change
so far its gone out of its way to avoid us

to enlighten mankind

open your eyes
close your mouth
go on a diet
start with yourself

middle of the night

middle of the night
had an idea for a poem
didn’t turn on the light
didn’t write it down

i got up and walked around
didn’t smoke, didn’t drank
just thank, like thinking
cause it was last night
it’s all past tense
in the darkness

and i wasn’t tense
i rested well, i can tell
makes sense, i’m just saying
the idea escaped me

came in, went by
leaving nothing to hang it on
got away completely
like clothes on the line in high wind
that first flaps, then blows
whap - took wing and flew away

another case of talking in my dream
about some poem, to some people
it’s what they said, or so i thought
and then they all got up and left at once

the whole flock thought took to the air transparent
gone, before i wrote something down
it got by me and went away
past tense

a dark figure

from the front step i saw
in the stillness of heavy dusk
a lone dark figure
amble my way down the street

perhaps it’s that bushy headed cute girl
with the cheery hello, who lives next door
that always sings walking her kitty
and has a happy word for everyone

i waited a moment
as the figure drew near i saw it was Rollo
the waddling ancient groundskeeper
from the local cemetery, tugging his little dog

and who rides the loudest riding mower in creation
always yells in your face, is irritating and grumpy,
with a chill in my spine i slipped into silent shadows,
maybe next time i'll say hi

dareson

i dareson give long sets of words
your time is tight
it might not be the right venue
to traffic in long verse

better to give a little now,
save the other thoughts
for some distant time
when i am not so terse

summer gone

dark hard rain and coolness
how soon summer turned away
still another week before august ends
so quickly warm days have gone astray

just picked raspberries
it’s not time for apples
we’re not ready for pumpkins
corn and tomatoes are yet to ripen fully
how can days lounging at the beach be over
there are short sleeves and sun hats to wear
it isn’t time to put them away

need i collar up against chill wind?
where have they gone - the kids on bicycles?
even the mail man is bundled up
and sits longer in his truck

brutal quick summer why have you departed?
you’re the season we want to last
and went on by like no other has
so quickly you have passed

jungle country vacation

when he was ten
and I was the age of lightning, long hair and magic
my son and i journeyed to Belize
to swim eat explore, and we did

returning through Mexico
border guards were hesitant alert
as we were afoot toting light luggage
but took a chance and let us enter their country

that overnight dirt road through jungle toward the north star
hobbling potholes packed on a tired rusty dull blue bus
amid ripe fruit, peasants, potions and shamans
my son secure and asleep, i fell into dream in some rear seat

awaken by rays of yellow dawn light, my head resting
on the breast of a congenial country woman.
we departed the bus later that morning
all waved to us, she was still smiling

oldies

heard songs on a oldies station at the dentist
made me cringe, tell you way,
Buddy Holly, Peggy Sue,
get this: fifty years ago it was an oldie

it was recorded fifty-one years ago
i remember it the first time,
and they all sound different to me now
the individual instruments can be heard

how i process them in my mind
how they sound technically, remixed
the space between the notes
the sound with decent speakers

now reproduced in stereo
add my own playing, knowledge, abilities
all the sounds of the passing years
packed in my head

a half century of music
enough oldies, plenty, i mean it,
i’m full, where’s sophistication?
time to turn the musical corner

vacuum space time

The top paper among physicists in meeting Belgiam 2009
was presented by Nassim Haramein.

vacuum space time
warp space time
zero, zero, zero, zero, point one percent
of all space is material

way down, down
to the other end
into molecules
is infinite space

half

half is woman
Afghanistan is voting
the world is waiting

they are hoping
they can do
half are women

wake up
we are in
this world together

the Commander

the Commander is flaps down
on approach to the final tarmac
wrapping up his mission

Pa is on the way out
or maybe in
depending how you read it

a few years ago he drove us
back from Tony’s Restaurant
in an Arizona hill town

as he sped hard to pass a truck
i commented, “so you miss
flying those WWII PBY’s, Tom”

we all laughed
and to tears will laugh again
saluting the Commander

counsel

keeping my distance
working on other things
well, on the porch sipping coffee
while she does garden cleanup

the trash man is coming
i tell her it will be 90 today
interrupting drinking and heavy thinking
she calls me to help

as she attempts to stuff
a seventy pound glump of zucchini plants
into a thirty pound capacity bag,
providing counsel i advise

i can’t be done, won’t be done
and she does it anyway
then lugs all
to the curb for pickup

instead of yard work
perhaps i could convince her
to collect postage stamps,
they’re easier to lift

market watch

with real time quotes
I can watch it all
second by second
keeping a tight hand

today i set all in place
had my coffee
did other things
often reviewing

checked often,
after two and a half hours
i realized it is Sunday,
the market is closed

thunder blue

thunder blue
are you true
had to write that true line cause it sounds
like a mid twentieth century torch song
in a night club with burgundy velvet drapery
the clinking of glasses, voices and laughter
and a lot of smoking going on
this table, please
i want to be close to the band stand

lets put rain beating against the windows
and Bogart and Bacall hats down walking in the rain
this is where the thunder comes in
hey, there’s Gene Kelly
he wants to dance in the downpour
holly mackerel, it’s a musical
no wonder i got up early
i didn’t want to miss anything

spare a quarter, spare a quarter
you win some and you lose a few
there’s the line by the church
they feed indigents breakfast
that looks like your mother
and it’s you she’s carrying
how’s your cards look now
little smarty pants

my son was here

now to put away in my head that my son was here
with his wife and two young daughters
children and grandchildren, ours for a week
they’ve gone back home

m. and i must reassemble,
meals once again quiet and simple
in the old house silent
where already clocks tick louder

we’ll drive fewer miles
with no one to show,
the heavy and hard to reach special chores will be undone
without assistance from the skilled, able younger man

and no one will thrill looking hard for berries, frogs or eagles
the happy calliope of the ice cream truck will pass barely noticed
soon leaves will dry crisp and golden unseen by them
as the flapping wings and honks of wild geese soar low overhead

seasons turn rolling like clouds on the wind
the lake will grow wild and thrash
then grey lie calm still, iced over
without their attention

while great joy lingers
there is also sadness in the wake
for all great moments are not all game winning seconds
the first and the fastest and the farthest and the medals

sometimes the joys are quiet
as were moments seated on the back porch
at night in low voice talking
saying nothing in particular

life is a trade of joys and sorrows
here’s a toast to them
warm toast and butter to the joys
with homemade jelly smeared all over it

a crowd of poets

a crowd of poets
is a sad thing,
they're always holding hands
and crying

lincoln train

I found accounts that showed it came near the village of New London, Ohio, only a few miles from here. The year was 1865.


cool for April, spring came late that year
somber groups dispersed along the track
as far as the eye could see, neighbors in the night
reduced to profiles in the darkness

by the hour all were really tired
nervous in anticipation, wishing it’d arrive
3:25 in the morning, there about
there was a spot of wavering light in the distance

the same instant a voice cried out
then young Earl spotted it
“it’s coming” his wavering shout rang like a shot
over the now silent multitude assembled

some sobbing could be heard
as the lumbering of the locomotive slowly passed
the dark shadow of the funeral train
carrying the body of their fallen leader.

another season

i heard a frog voice last night at three
once every thirty seconds
old Herb did every fifteen
but that was a month ago

another month,
another season,
another frog?

you could spell the frog’s name Herb,
but what he said was erb
guess that’s herb with a small H

maybe frogs
have trouble
with their h’s.