love test - completely accurate short version

question one
has he ever told you
that he’s finished watching
either live or televised sports
and would rather be
shoe shopping at the mall
with you?

question two
if the answer to question one is yes -
did you know he was lying?

question three
what’s for dinner?

rock o' my soul

on the piano did a vamp
thought of old tunes
school choir did one
rock my soul, oh rock o’ my

clap your hands, let the thing go on
so wide you can’t it around it
after a while the pulse lifts you,
over an over, hypnotic

picks you up, take you down the street
remembered a long ago city kid
mister, i know where you got ya shoes -
you got ‘cha shoes on you feet


repeat the last line until
you're blue in the face

i am Wicks, i'll be your server tonight

well, Wicks, hi, i’d shake hands but
obviously, you’re moving too fast
i’m jack, but i’d prefer you call me grandpa
no one else does

well they do once in a while
but they live a half a planet away
grandpa jack is what they say, but
plain grandpa is more enduring don’t you think

my grandparents lived thirty minutes away
but people didn’t drive as much back then
a half century ago, one i’d see one once a year
the other i’d see Christmas and Easter

anyway, doesn’t matter to anyone now does it.
say, my sister Nita taught me to drive
when i was eleven in her old Oldsmobile on Rye Beach Road
i’ll have to ask her if she was married then

parts of the story are unraveling
and half the cast have gone away
i’ll look into that, gone away stuff,
someday, won’t we all

listen, Wax, you don’t mind if
i keep talking to you, do you?
not out loud, in my head, think talk like
blink if you can hear me

key variations

musical keys themselves sound differently
this is something i learned
from my excellent classically trained teacher
who studied with a student of Franz Liszt

d was strong, military marches or something
i don’t remember any more,
except to say keys
have different affects and uses

i Googled and found emotions relating to keys
this age has lost sense of the variations of the keys,
volume and electronic reproduction
has diminished that nuance in their shadow

beyond poetry

or maybe this is real poetry.
This is a thirteen year old
who has blogged for two years
and has four million followers.

At the rate I'm going
I could easily have four million followers . . .
in less then two million years. Wait - let me work on that math and get back to you.

(on the link: I love the photo of the designer and the blogger.)

cold blooded

she was looking for them in the pond
on an early fall crisp morning
thought they’d be in the water where it’s warmer
hey, she wants everyone cozy

they've come home for the winter
there could be more shuffling
now we’ve two large black bull frogs, two tiny small
and two medium leopard type frogs

it’s cool this mornng, but wait
until winter when the pond is frozen
the frogs’ll be on the bottom
sleeping in the mud, nighty-night

to the heights

to the Heights, a country small town
nearby, yet aloof from modern ways
where farmers and country survive
and some of their kids go away to school in the cities
take jobs, live afar and return now and then
for holidays, alternate years

their folks stay on
in touch with the soil
clean, neat and country casual for a Sunday
standing tall as they can
walking leaning, a bit slower

these remaining have been small town friendly for years
know the families, names from long ago
and can recall some of the faces
now under the headstones
on the treed lofty knoll

there is a chicken barbeque today
at this conservation club
no telling what they are conserving
kindness and good will for sure

the building is set back on a large area in an otherwise field
the road in waggers as if the guys who dragged it out
changed their minds two or three times before
they settled on how to get from here to there

and the twenty or thirty cars already there
were parked in the field over a few acres
like dominoes thrown out of a box
and where they landed is where they sat
independent parkers they are

this yearly event we’ve been waiting for
three hundred tickets were sold they say
the money raised will keep the group going
about thirty folks there at the start when we were
maybe fifty
half again that number just neighborly helping out
i didn't try to count, they were spread out nicely

rear double doors were open to the beginning
of the green and rust colored stick crackling woods
in mild temperatures and near idle breeze
on the cusp of another change
summer to fall

had covered long tables, sturdy folding chairs
set with plenty space between to walk
and clean silverware, no plastic for
these folk of dirt, cast iron, seed and steel

the building’s maintained in good repair
someday they’ll pave straighten that winding road in
or sell the whole damn chuck to a developer, if and when

barbequed chicken was the draw today
and these hens were as large as small dogs
and twicet as tasty as you could ever imagine

spoke with old Reece, one of the volunteers
heard he deeded his downtown brick building
the decorative grey century one on Main
resplendent with curiosities and used books
to the local historical society

our common friend dick, who visited us in Rome
will be coming soon, here’s where he was raised
with a smile on his face and mud in his toes

today's group was quiet well mannered
stayed on the business of eating
and getting to the desert table
in no rush orderly fashion

i had a slice of crispy near warm apple pie
made from experience by Aldean
as she stood alone by her kitchen window
taking care and good intentions
thinking of her family while using well hewn skill
that would’a made her mother proud

after we did the deed on the chicken
during which time we made new acquaintances
and refreshed old ones
we waved goodbyes and moved on
out the door and beyond
into our own tomorrow

free time

why knock yourself out on the internet
connecting with the world
when half the folks are not bright, half
scratch those – i’ll make this easy for you

that leaves three billion people
so you want them over for lunch or what?
make everybody a sandwich and what you spend
on mustard alone would run Norway for twenty-five years

keep it simple, you’ve heard that, right?
how about a few, maybe three or four friends
either that’ll be enough for you, or
you need to reevaluate your free time

mirror

In Anatolia, around the land that is now Turkey
mirrors of polished obsidian were used 8,000 years ago.

catches the eye
flashes the light
better than a still pond
you can touch it

pick one up
carry it around
hold one up to look where you’ve been
hold it down to see the sky

put your face in one
it won’t talk back
won’t make a sound
what is left appears on the right

repeats colors
specularly reflective
practical magic
safe to do at home

weather whether

tv weather
showing maps and arrows
in red and blue is weather
you can see

radio weather
talks how it goes
though for tomorrow i doubt whether
anyone knows

i'm not afaid

i’m not afraid
to go outside the box
though rather get paid*
an cure chicken pox

filling our time now
an eye to the weather
i mean, holy cow,
we’re sticking together

i’ll rub your back
you sip my cheap wine
give me your heartache
and i’ll show you mine

the world is our sea
i am your oyster
they get us surrounded
white flags we’ll hoister

we drifts and we hops
as poets we'll cruise
dance till we drops
or the ship’s out of booze

*laid, strayed, made, spaid,weighed, swayed

for every minute you're talking
someone gives up 60 seconds
of peace and quiet

every year that passes

as i ladle up a smoking silvery spoon of time, though I don’t write or call
every year that duck squeak slip passes greased
finds me wonder why, and how you’re doing
in the golden yellow white days of summer, and another adobe fall

there is will be a small flower
something wild half hidden amid somewhere green
anywhere, i find one, anywhere at all, in between
no matter, it changes how I’m feeling that hour

taking up a petal, one will do
in vibrant color, texture, pattern, scent, then recall i will
from afar, time spent, and power from soft warm eyes
i think of you


every year that passes

as i ladle up a smoking silvery
spoon of time
though I don’t write or call
every year that duck squeak slip passes

finds me wonder
why, and how you’re doing
in blistering golden yellow white summer
leaning to another adobe fall

there is will be a small flower
something, wild half hidden
amid somewhere sometime green
anywhere i find one, anywhere at all,

in between, no matter
it changes
how I’m feeling
that hour

taking up a petal,
one will do
vibrant in color, texture,
pattern, scent

then recall i will, from afar,
time spent, and power
from soft warm eyes
i think of you

when old clothes were new

archeologists say
first clothes were made
seventy thousand years ago
more or less

before that? you tell me
what’d the cave man wear
sticks and clam shells?
maybe dinosaur skins

now in a cave in the Republic of Georgia
archaeologists have found colored fibers
that indicate the cave that may have been a factory
engaged in producing colorful textiles

found were strings and ropes
dyed fabric yellow, gray and turquoise
and one in pink, twisted together
carbon dated to thirty-four thousand years ago

scientists, not prone to speculation,
estimate that even then the fashion styles
changed every six months
and runway models were skinny



Scientists credited with the above discovery are
Ofer Bar Yosef, George Grant MacCurdy
and Janet G. B. MacCurdy of Prehistoric Archaeology
in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences at Harvard University
Bar Yosef and colleagues have been working in this cave since 1996.

writing

Digging into my archive, to save you the trouble, I brought this out from February 2008.

writing’s a bit
like digging a pit
you have to know
how deep to go

what to do
when that work is through?
You cover that lover
and start on another

curtis mayfield

around somewhere, maybe in a box
i have his business card
should be framed like a trophy now
here' the story

saw him perform
in those early times, 1963
when i was young and had the stuff
to get backstage, no problem

i was writing, wanted to see
if he would do a tune or two of mine
he was very friendly, kind
but wrote all his own

rolled em out, played em on
it’s all right, people get ready,
anyway, it was nice talking with Curtis
i really liked his style

animals revisited

the house of the rising sun was sung
by Appalachian artists Clarence "Tom" Ashley
and Gwen Foster in 1933
Tom learned it from his grandfather

Alan Lomax recorded his granddaughter singing it in ‘37
Roy Acuff in ’38, Woody Guthrie in ‘41
Led Belly in ‘48,
‘61 Bob Dylan did it

and according to punk archeology
in the British invasion of 64 the animals did it
many others have since recorded it
many other artists

2009 the dentist’s office
heard it on the radio, and kid next to me says
wow. the animals, oh, yeah!
animals lead singer Eric Burton 68 years old

lets dig up Mozart, blow some air in him
and see if he can open for the animals
just keep pumping air until
we get a beat out of him

i can turn it on

a low level technician i am, i know
rank me where I ought to be
somewhere low
because a lot really blows way by me
dust puffs on light wind to vapor

it’s the way I see it
what I expect
don’t you feel it?
examining from the back porch
under moving tree shadow and moon light

watching lightning bugs while
making thoughts, stringing them together
that could be necessary, stringing
to adjust things not quite right in my reasoning
we’ll see, I’m not sure, no regret

nine eleven answers

some day
historians
will follow
the money

bloodlines

fractional Cherokee blood coursing
she stood the ladder
painting on high
four and a half feet
beyond fear

off to the side with pride in my eye
envious of her heritage advantage
i watched from my perspective
as a humble full blood
Kielbasa