first poetry written for a dolphin

hi, dolphin
sky is blue
water is too
how are you?

we call ourselves people
at least now we do,
that could change

please understand and forgive us
we are not as stable as you
and have a difficult time leaving
things as they are

and the world pristine
as it was in the beginning

the morning

with the commotion at night, the way
the moon and stars rock around
you’d think we would hear stretching sounds
or at least an echo

rising is the nature of the business
on the quick side of the clock
in first light, birds and critters, me and you
after a good sleep night, got ‘a go

the morning has its strength on then
straight up and at it, when, no horsing around
you can watch it go, my heavens.
time rolling into another new day rhythm

i love the sidewalks then
dashed with a streak
bright as butter yellow when
sneaking through the trees

Retro Rita Hayworth

on the jolly little bus again
for sure arrived via time machine
how else would heels like that get here
to pirouette uneven cobblestones?

as newbees eating ice cream in the rain,
hop aboard in place, in packs, presently isolated
hats on backwards face to face on the little traveler,
this gondola through the maze.

italian, german, inter european, extro mundo
from far north, far east and the americas.
hear them in groups like squirrels chattering,
flashing dreams and fears, some brave outspoken.

retro Rita has stockings
with a long line up the back of her leg.
phone out and twirling it, undecided
what is next to conquer in the ancient city today.

we finished dinner

the olives can go in the refrigerator
is what she said to me
can they now? that got my attention,
i looked at her

didn’t believe her, not then.
that was absolutely not true.
those olives can’t go anywhere,
watch them; even if they tried.

i know for a fact, no doubt about it.
take a load off, olives,
you can put the load right on me.
your going days are over.

Rome winter dark

heavy jackets abound, zip 'em
this grey day soaking mystery
hats on, umbrellas out and up
collars furry snug an' high

walkin' wrapped an' head down,
dampened sound, scarves tight around
through slush against wind chill we are
wading, by shops closed, traffic’s light

an’s only past noon by the clock
look ahead, more’s on the way
just you wait wait until tonight an' dark,
o'course we fear tomorrow’d be a similar day.


continued:
it snowed last night, a bit and cold.
many out walking taking photos
no snow falling now, enough we have
Rome is freezing, closed for the day.

in the key of life

i heard the marching band go down the street
the school’s a block over
i’m reading, thinking while upstairs a worker
finishes, hopefully, tile in the bathroom

some pictures, i see where i could hang a few
overall the old house is coming along
this the second year sharing life with contractors
give us a break, wrap it up, how much can we take?

not writing enough everyday has me off pace
though the year rolls warm and friendly
i note 67 creeping my back stairs
you can find out how old is some day

nights i dream of things to write
instead of getting up to make notes
i sleep thru and tell myself i’ll remember
you know, those distant trains hardly wake me anymore

parking at all costs

walked our streets today
searching space where i may
move, not me, my vehicle, see,
so the car not far is going to be.

in this old town it’s tight, you know,
parking is a premium, so
if available, although it's free,
you need a card on your dash like me,

printed with the correct information
then authorities from the traffic station
can read i walked the walk, got papers and paid the price
to park near, all because i live here where it's rather nice.

January squeeze

‘bout squeezed all the January
we’re goin’a get out of this one;
can’t cut off some of the rind;
no scent left to save for later.

so did you use
this month as expected,
‘bout how you wanted it to unfold,
or did you even think ahead at all?

planning goes right fine along,
neigh on to a point, and then,
there’s an amount of stuff,
call it stuff, that just happens.

here's when best wishes come in,
so figure what you goin'a do;
cha-cha right into another month.
Mr. Fate is following you.

gold country

was long ago,
did i really live there,
San Francisco?
like wine don’t you?

other fog may be thick,
in San Fran it’s romantic.
morning sun on the golden gate
where red/orange is the color.

how about all those boats on the bay!
lived on one ten years with our cat,
and the U.S. navy flying over in jets
putting on a show. mind if they roar?

hi Karl Malden window shopping Maiden Lane.
a store with a little outdoor food festival
in front of the radio station where i worked
my young son asked if it was a fish fry?

M. thought the car parking too expensive
pulling into the lot she saw the sign:
seven dollars min.
waved me off saying not there, go, go.

no way
would we pay
seven dollars
a minute.

famous attorney Melvin Belli
sat in his devilishly wonderful old office
conspicuously on display downtown
with a large window for all to look in
don’t bother to wave at him
he’s working

so much more,
Tony Bennet on his birthday
at a table in the next room.
George Lucas at our agency party

and Something-to-do Bob
in the lot, crawling good morning
out from under his overturned skiff
chin up sincerely asking, “day do you have?”

friends and sea breeze
fresh out of the west.
all in gold country,
one i loved best
we loved it the best

phone message

this is harsh.
get ready to boo.
now this volley
could be aimed at you.

you are annoying
if you have a phone message
with everything on it
except your name.

why hide your name, i have your number?
and don’t repeat the number i dialed.
i know that part already. what i need to know
is if the person i called is there.

how can i leave word with an unknown?
i won’t leave a message
so someone can call back to say
i left word at the wrong number.

if I call you i want the message
to tell me it is you, right away,
or - no message for you.
now have a nice day.

an if i ever have a job
where i have to call and tell you
you won an enormous amount of money
and you don’t have your name on the message

i’ll hang up,
leave my station,
quit the job , pocket your cash
and take a long vacation.

a lifetime forever

to live a lifetime forever
on a mountain under eternal noon sun
with sweet wine touching lips that touch mine

where the omnipresent fragrance of soft flowers
and gentle green
caress thoughts
and cradle in your mind mellow notions

the only sound being
two hearts playing
the softest lullaby in creation



first published August 06, 2008

when i woke

when i woke i had you on mind
must have sung song your song ten thousand times
and every time i start
it’s like cannons in my heart
going off half-cocked
while i’m half blind
i fear i better stop
afore i lose my mind
how in hell did i get myself in such a bind

Porta Portese

often we have wandered
the Sunday market at Porta Portese
do pay attention when you go
into the psycho mad circus crowded zoo

when weaving around
winding through the buzz
keep a hand on your wallet
before anyone else does

legions sell anything and everything
to would-be buyers in the slew
questions asked will be responded to
with answers custom fit for you

for a price
if you like
and it's right
pay up and take it, do

laughing to the extreme

was in the hospital,
had my appendix removed
three of us in a room
one guy told jokes.

he was hysterically funny.
made one poor guy laugh so hard
he broke his appendix stitches
had to be wheeled back and sewn again

day two more jokes from funny guy
same guy broke his stitches laughing again
day three it happened a third time
they wheeled funny guy to a private room

the color of reflection

from the porch of a mountain lake cabin
i painted the scene
a new sedan parked in the shade
under tall pines was the prominent theme

surroundings were rendered to my satisfaction
but the reflection in the car windshield,
a smoky, somber still blue sky perfection
came forth in just the right grayed hue

the mixture of color, and pure good fortune
made it happened, for although i’m experienced,
art in free pure spirit form, that works well at a glance,
often comes down to a matter of chance.

kid threw

kid threw a ball across the street
meri saw and crossed over to get it
before she was back
the kid threw two more across

these are little kids
ages three and two
big throws the ball
little stands and watches

learning ways of the world
from their own front yard
the mother talks, their eyes glisten
but they don’t appear to hear or listen

crowd talking

people are crowd talking
jammed on their phones
in cars, on city streets
hear the chatter?

doesn’t matter,
keep moving.
though i’m surprised more aren’t
running into each other.

in the future you’ll hear
talk crossing the borders of time
“Mr. Lincoln on line three.”
“Again? . . . tell him i’m in a meeting.”

when phones are imbedded
we can walk around talking
to everyone who isn’t there. RING!
“i’ll get it . . . since i’m the only one here. hello?”

“ i’m callin’ Michael uh Jackson , tell him it’s Elvis’s.”
“Oh, i recognize your voice, Elvis.”
“Well, will ya put Michael on.”
“i’m sorry, Elvis, you have the wrong number.” click!

Rome seen as a park

Saturday we walked a bit
a block beyond the Coliseum,
off the end of the Circus Maximus
by Roman ruins, under an old church,

out into a park with parrots and benches,
sunshine and shade, trees and peace;
it was as if we were some hundred miles away,
this sanctuary in the center of the ancient city.

now today got up and showered
selected attire appropriate
so then decked out right for our day
walked the bowed crest of the old bridge.

first stopping in sunshine, in the middle
to see the calm, wide moving river below
and walkers on one sidewalk side down there,
the Vatican dome straight off a half mile away.

that’s how we got to Trestevere
where we had coffee amid locals
saw only a dog or two out today
looking, listening, in good humor, having fun

seems everyone was taking Sunday easy
and that, you know ’s proven the best way.
so overall uneventful yet pleasant this Sunday
you don’t even need a weather report about it.

let me say right now
that this slow, dull, average day
and this entire weekend was all around okay
to the point of being worth mentioning.

two extremes

walking this narrow centuries old lane
under shade rendered by old stone buildings
on our narrow cobblestone way
a young mother ahead is pushing
an empty stroller with her right hand
stooped forward holding the hand
of her tiny toddler with her left
as he advances in hesitant wobbly steps
i amble alongside them
in tentative pace indicative of age

on the graph of human existence
heading along the path of life
aside the mother are two extremes
one is nearly there
the other fresh out of the gate

in box

you have your in box
and you have your out box
that seems clear enough
now let’s take a look at them

do you want to chat and blend a conversation
invite a third party or more
how about you do it in an elevator
or on a train, in your pocket in the rain,

make it tiny with a phone, put plugs in your ear,
include photos, movies
distort the voice. what? no 3D?
baby has one with a rattle on it.

give me the old ways
like bows and arrows
three bears and Goldilocks
an in box and an out box