Monday, December 24, 2012

what'd you do tuesday?


what’d you do tuesday?
the other day, or a few ago,
days in the week, weeks in a month,
12 months,  all those days in the year,

stack them up and keep track  . . .
wait, that’s too many.
let’s take what we can handle.
simplify said Thoreau; a good idea.

we need three days:   
yesterday, today and tomorrow
more passed is for your history book
ahead is practically science fiction

god can you hear me?


god can you hear me?
if i am thinking?
in italian or English?
or if i mispronounce badly in Francaise?

do you know my question
before i ask?
would you tell me?
but isn’t truth relative anyway?

i don’t think you need praise
or  the company.
if it’s company you want
you can always make someone.

do you know i am talking to you,
and what i will say,
and how everything will turn out anyway?
if so then, what’s the point?


Sunday, December 16, 2012

just woke and wrote



just woke and wrote, i did
something cause i haven’t been
able to write and forgot about you
then i did that and opened

google which is slow on my computer
and there your were - M. The Email.
oh, darling, can you refrigerate
bananas or is that bad?

wow you said you slept two
hours felt terrible when you woke
now feel good, except it’s  like the flu?  
sounds extreme.   i’d sleep on it.

geeze the thumb is sounding terrible,  
out of hand, so to speak.  i was hoping
you’d  adopt it,  that is: get along,
or can  a  doctor cut it off . . . the bump thing?

look, i have to rush.  a Plumber and electrician
will be in the building this morning and
i have to shower and pee before
they cut the water or the ele

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Dumpling Realizer


without a glitch she passed
through the force field poles
that undoubtedly scan shoppers for weapons
or maybe just make pictures for the boys in the back room

as into market fighting for position, she goes
we’re having soup she said, i saw zucchini laid in a line,
a clerk with a braid came to her aid, once or twice,
she bought magic stuff to make dumplings

amid a symphony of vegetables, meat and a lot of cheeses
she had taken her wheeled cart along
the one that is Scotch red and blue plaid, jesus,
i have no idea why they decided to spell plaid that way

we paid for all, including her Dumpling Realizer
what most earthlings call baking powder,
i thought i’d mention that,
as it is the name of this poem

braid, maid, raid, laid,
paid, aid, and plaid
there i said it and i’m glad.
i'd spell plaid a different way.

best difference



there is a difference between
doing to gain, doing again
or doing cause you have to.
best is doing cause it’s what you do.

Monday, November 12, 2012

is poetry an answer?


off with my coat i sit down
socks are hanging off me
yes, i took off my shoes
then my socks

set them on a step nearby
then on my sleeve is a fresh sock
over my shoulder one more
are these the clean pair from this morning?

what have i been wearing?
have i carried this clean pair around all day
attached to my sleeve and shoulder?
can this be happening to me?


Sunday, November 11, 2012

literally being

life as a series of errors
and ambiguous good intention
gives me pause when asked,
“are you all set?”

standing, at a loss;
pondering reply; oh, my.
it takes time, mine and thine,
to respond forthright acceptably.

Thursday, November 08, 2012

the red drop that flew


white shirt fresh crisp clean.
neat me at table, served pasta
fragrant smoking tomato sauce, how lovely.
upon first bite a noodle fell back into sauce

at which point leap exploded a gleaming
rocket red drop soaring free
toward the sky, oh my; i watched it go, time lapse,
exposing my childhood, holidays at grandma’s, events flashing.

before entering earth orbit it veered, aparkled,
held, then dove, streak skidded sure, long, hard
across the prominent center of my shirt.
need more? not i; it was quite enough for one day.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

when long skies


when long skies open wide
for puffy caramel colored animal-shaped clouds
rolling by
it’s fine time to mellow
and consider 
 . . . .  whatever.


parked i am



still trees, open arms
above early fallen leaves
near where parked i am
on a bench in this park

around the pigeons hunt and peck
bob heads in time to internal music
no wheels needed, pigeons these,
hop decked in curiosity

central bronze statue of a man with a finger
that marks page in book held low at his side
seated, nearly reclined, as if sleeping
other hand to forehead, eyes closed

dallying as i do, making notes un sung
in a sign of my times
this another october,
this fair sunny day


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

of courses



black horse, backhoes,
black shoes, of course - that’s it.
two pair under my chair where
i leave pairs there.

put one on, shoe that is;
being too literal, i need take care;
then reached under the chair
for the other.

could tell you i retrieved
another right shoe discreetly
tried to put that on, but, come on,
literal is not stupid, completely.