out late morning walking
to Trastevere in sleeveless vest, no jacket
warm yellow weather carressing my shoulders
why has winter gone hiding in wait?
light clouds, turning, whirling
in bright sky blue
i squint toward the sun
gull on wing over the river
crossed my favorite old stone bridge
exchanged hi and smiles to the Sunday accordionist
on Ponte Sisto working early this week
in preparation for the holiday
at the corner by the gray church
Giacomo calls down from his balcony
went up to his place for coffee
his son James there but for a minute
always in motion planning
returning toward home
along Lungo Tevere
blurring traffic running in tandem
ten thousand destinations
patiently moving in saunter
no blasting crush today
folks on foot in good number
treading in passing
a hurry about them with no commotion
chatting in flocks
some solo on cell phones
clutching it to their ears
children on holiday drag along, skipping
the cannon at noon
thumps once on windows a mile away
a piece of pizza bread from the forno
to carry home, enjoy slowly
with greens and cheese
where from window open
over slow sipping coffee
church bells call the quarter hour
in the clangs i hear the undertone
telling all it is new years eve tonight
make good plans with friends ,
do it well now
the new year begins,
be ready,
stay alert
to celebrate departure of the old
and to welcome into being
the formidable, erratic circle of the new
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
mid week
cloudy dark rainy cool mid week
our lane up and down
more than a hundred yards end to end
and thousands of years back to the beginning
our building rooted five hundred years ago
yet there are far older for sure
nearby is a building from the twelfth century
painted, cracked and redone countless times
the old salt road of pre time is nearby
how far have the old ones gone?
tonight night lights are few along the way
all is still, even breeze so light
buses are resting
cabbies are reading, waiting, near sleeping
no one out this moment,
no one walking
no dog, no cat
through narrow alleys
silent dark walls, cobblestones
still puddles barely reflecting dark gray
can’t begin to imagine a part of
what has taken place
on this brief length of Roma
home to so many over the centuries
in fights, in love,
birth and death
chickens, cows, carts, pigs and horses
dogs and cats birds, bugs, and rats
soldiers, drunks, candles, thieves and beggars
papas, mamas, priests and nuns
singers, poets, police, officials, the dandies
and nobodies
most of all
plenty of no bodies at all
a treasure of life
that endures
our lane up and down
more than a hundred yards end to end
and thousands of years back to the beginning
our building rooted five hundred years ago
yet there are far older for sure
nearby is a building from the twelfth century
painted, cracked and redone countless times
the old salt road of pre time is nearby
how far have the old ones gone?
tonight night lights are few along the way
all is still, even breeze so light
buses are resting
cabbies are reading, waiting, near sleeping
no one out this moment,
no one walking
no dog, no cat
through narrow alleys
silent dark walls, cobblestones
still puddles barely reflecting dark gray
can’t begin to imagine a part of
what has taken place
on this brief length of Roma
home to so many over the centuries
in fights, in love,
birth and death
chickens, cows, carts, pigs and horses
dogs and cats birds, bugs, and rats
soldiers, drunks, candles, thieves and beggars
papas, mamas, priests and nuns
singers, poets, police, officials, the dandies
and nobodies
most of all
plenty of no bodies at all
a treasure of life
that endures
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
enough jack
there was jack london
and jack kennedy
course it started with
jack the baptist
i know they called him that
oh, yeah, i almost forgot where
i was gong with this
i’m changing my name
you can call me nabisco
it was either that or shell oil
i didn’t want to work to make my name famous
thought I’d start known and work down from there
my choice of name was made carefully
more than my parents did when they named me
late comer, number three
they already used their favorite boy name and the girl name
i was nine years later
lucky they didn’t call me the first thing out of their mouth
“You’re What?” or
“Holy Shit”
and jack kennedy
course it started with
jack the baptist
i know they called him that
oh, yeah, i almost forgot where
i was gong with this
i’m changing my name
you can call me nabisco
it was either that or shell oil
i didn’t want to work to make my name famous
thought I’d start known and work down from there
my choice of name was made carefully
more than my parents did when they named me
late comer, number three
they already used their favorite boy name and the girl name
i was nine years later
lucky they didn’t call me the first thing out of their mouth
“You’re What?” or
“Holy Shit”
Monday, December 28, 2009
bused up
bused up
on the little bus
to the hill over Rome
where the noon cannon is fired
ever since the pope back in 1847
wanted his churches to
all know what time it was,
at least once a day
a crowd gathered to hear it
the cannon is loud
wasn’t precisely noon
should have covered my ears
then walked warm weather down
to old Trastevere
where our new favorite restaurant
was tried and confirmed
while walking back traffic was stopped
a helicopter hovered overhead
we waited to watch
something was about to happen
one cop called it a VIP cortege coming by
his word not mine
some Italian cops are literate
glad to hear it, anytime
fifteen cars and as many motorcycle police
and more police afoot every corner
all the way home they go to the Vatican
because the pope king went out for lunch
event over, we walked home
didn’t stop traffic
and didn’t cause any trouble either
as we shuffled along, all the way home
my cell phone has a clock on it
i could have told anyone the time
but no one asked
they must have heard the cannon
on the little bus
to the hill over Rome
where the noon cannon is fired
ever since the pope back in 1847
wanted his churches to
all know what time it was,
at least once a day
a crowd gathered to hear it
the cannon is loud
wasn’t precisely noon
should have covered my ears
then walked warm weather down
to old Trastevere
where our new favorite restaurant
was tried and confirmed
while walking back traffic was stopped
a helicopter hovered overhead
we waited to watch
something was about to happen
one cop called it a VIP cortege coming by
his word not mine
some Italian cops are literate
glad to hear it, anytime
fifteen cars and as many motorcycle police
and more police afoot every corner
all the way home they go to the Vatican
because the pope king went out for lunch
event over, we walked home
didn’t stop traffic
and didn’t cause any trouble either
as we shuffled along, all the way home
my cell phone has a clock on it
i could have told anyone the time
but no one asked
they must have heard the cannon
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
if i could
if i could write each poem
as a precious drop
warm sparkling clear
i surely would
instead, with my back to the rock
surrounded, i reload ready to run
like Butch and Sundance
into freeze frame
as the great theme grows under
the credits roll on the screen
lights come on, people go home
with proud steps and good memories
when you’re in the game
you take the pieces you have
and create with them
the best you can
as a precious drop
warm sparkling clear
i surely would
instead, with my back to the rock
surrounded, i reload ready to run
like Butch and Sundance
into freeze frame
as the great theme grows under
the credits roll on the screen
lights come on, people go home
with proud steps and good memories
when you’re in the game
you take the pieces you have
and create with them
the best you can
Labels:
poems on poetry
Friday, December 25, 2009
vigilia, the night before christmas
rode with Roberto from the center
cross town to Parioli for Vigilia
eight thirty in the evening, no traffic
surreal tranquility in the city
more parking spaces than usual
many Romans are out of town
it seems even birds had flown
home to see the family
we wore light open jackets
on the evening of soft rain
unseasonably warm for Christmas
it was different to drive the city
without stop and go
no pressure from too many out there
a rare lazy meander across town
while at the Vatican the Pope was knocked down
some one was making a fuss
after dinner with Paola and Sandro
it was well after midnight
when outside the Vatican
workers had slipped the infant into the Nativity scene
as we departed our dinner with friends
in the same quiet we returned home
even buses had stopped running at nine p.m.
adding to city silence by the noise they left out
silent night, holy night
no snow, clouds over fields
no blue light from the Christmas star
drunks counting sugar plums asleep in doorways
even gypsies have taken holiday
cross town to Parioli for Vigilia
eight thirty in the evening, no traffic
surreal tranquility in the city
more parking spaces than usual
many Romans are out of town
it seems even birds had flown
home to see the family
we wore light open jackets
on the evening of soft rain
unseasonably warm for Christmas
it was different to drive the city
without stop and go
no pressure from too many out there
a rare lazy meander across town
while at the Vatican the Pope was knocked down
some one was making a fuss
after dinner with Paola and Sandro
it was well after midnight
when outside the Vatican
workers had slipped the infant into the Nativity scene
as we departed our dinner with friends
in the same quiet we returned home
even buses had stopped running at nine p.m.
adding to city silence by the noise they left out
silent night, holy night
no snow, clouds over fields
no blue light from the Christmas star
drunks counting sugar plums asleep in doorways
even gypsies have taken holiday
Thursday, December 24, 2009
electric bus
hopped on a whirring electric bus
that soon turned down an alley
then suddenly stopped stuck there
cause it couldn’t get by
a car was parked in that alley
protruding out into the lane
our way forward was finished
while cars packed us in from behind
a lot of horn honking ensued.
a quarter hour later the guy showed up
that got in that blue car, and then
like taking the lid off a pressure cooker
we sighed off our steam and all drove away
that soon turned down an alley
then suddenly stopped stuck there
cause it couldn’t get by
a car was parked in that alley
protruding out into the lane
our way forward was finished
while cars packed us in from behind
a lot of horn honking ensued.
a quarter hour later the guy showed up
that got in that blue car, and then
like taking the lid off a pressure cooker
we sighed off our steam and all drove away
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Natale is Christmas in Italian
preparations for Natale
now the day before
a good day to begin
bought a desert pie for the night before festa, Vigilia
with a physicist and two professors
who all love pi and pie and their wives
at Feltrinelli’s bought books for gifts
called Giacomo to compare notes
my Roman pal who is quick, alert and ready
his son Alex’s group is leaving now
to play for cash outside the bookstore
in the hum of street activity
said hi to Franco outside the store
his motor bike was stolen last week
didn't ask how he got there
closer to home
sat down for coffee at a table
outside Angelo’s coffee bar
intense people traffic
here they come
there they pass
a pigeon just got by an electric buses wheel
as I sipped coffee to a, look around,
a persistent subtle whining sound
it’s the dog under the next table
saying his piece without
moving his lips
and art show tonight, got ta go
crowds shopping now
all on alert, hurray the day
a woman comes buy
dressed like Pinocchio’s mother
Christmas is on the way
now the day before
a good day to begin
bought a desert pie for the night before festa, Vigilia
with a physicist and two professors
who all love pi and pie and their wives
at Feltrinelli’s bought books for gifts
called Giacomo to compare notes
my Roman pal who is quick, alert and ready
his son Alex’s group is leaving now
to play for cash outside the bookstore
in the hum of street activity
said hi to Franco outside the store
his motor bike was stolen last week
didn't ask how he got there
closer to home
sat down for coffee at a table
outside Angelo’s coffee bar
intense people traffic
here they come
there they pass
a pigeon just got by an electric buses wheel
as I sipped coffee to a, look around,
a persistent subtle whining sound
it’s the dog under the next table
saying his piece without
moving his lips
and art show tonight, got ta go
crowds shopping now
all on alert, hurray the day
a woman comes buy
dressed like Pinocchio’s mother
Christmas is on the way
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Alberto's car
his worn vintage car quit again
on the cold rainy road into Roma
no one in traffic stopped to assist
Alberto pushed it two hundred yards
then opened the hood
tapped the engine with a hammer
tried the motor again
this time it worked
proving that as with some people
now and then it’s a matter
of getting a machine’s
full attention
on the cold rainy road into Roma
no one in traffic stopped to assist
Alberto pushed it two hundred yards
then opened the hood
tapped the engine with a hammer
tried the motor again
this time it worked
proving that as with some people
now and then it’s a matter
of getting a machine’s
full attention
Monday, December 21, 2009
campo dei fiori
i know this campo
of flowers and markets
a circus in progress
many new faces in groups
slow walking and talking
some carrying sandwiches
now tourists Italian
all caps and dark warm jackets
slow passing non stop
through the piazza of Bruno
sun going down, lights coming on
many regulars out for the season
even beggars have rotated
near over the line, yet still in order
with just above freezing
no tickets or towing
cars, motorinos and bicycles
visible police and undercover
overflowing action no on can follow
too cold for mime or musicians
in season’s chill December
four days before Christmas
of flowers and markets
a circus in progress
many new faces in groups
slow walking and talking
some carrying sandwiches
now tourists Italian
all caps and dark warm jackets
slow passing non stop
through the piazza of Bruno
sun going down, lights coming on
many regulars out for the season
even beggars have rotated
near over the line, yet still in order
with just above freezing
no tickets or towing
cars, motorinos and bicycles
visible police and undercover
overflowing action no on can follow
too cold for mime or musicians
in season’s chill December
four days before Christmas
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Leonardo
stepped out this morning
suddenly a guy yelling for help
limping on fire to the knee
flames leaping waist high
i put him on the ground
put out flames with my hands
windows opened above, shouting
soon an ambulance came
i calmed him, said he was Leonardo
a street person with a small fire
keeping warm under the arch
next time he’ll remember me
the ambulance took him
put lotion on my hands
i had stepped out for a smoke
not to burn merry Christmas
I have repeatedly posted this as Leonardo, then changed it to Leonardo Burning, four or five times in the last 24 hours. I like the title Leonardo Burning, but don’t want to offend the worth of this street person Leonardo by seemingly trivializing the event; and the poem ends with a burning reference and I didn’t want to lessen the effectiveness of the poem. To burn merry Christmas is a swirling mystic somewhat ambiguous reference and I wanted it left like that, unrestrained.
Maybe I’ll have to stand back and let time pass before I can make final cuts.
As it is, the energy in there. It happened, I came upstairs and wrote it. At this point the poet is too close to the event to judge what has effectively transpired in the writing.
suddenly a guy yelling for help
limping on fire to the knee
flames leaping waist high
i put him on the ground
put out flames with my hands
windows opened above, shouting
soon an ambulance came
i calmed him, said he was Leonardo
a street person with a small fire
keeping warm under the arch
next time he’ll remember me
the ambulance took him
put lotion on my hands
i had stepped out for a smoke
not to burn merry Christmas
I have repeatedly posted this as Leonardo, then changed it to Leonardo Burning, four or five times in the last 24 hours. I like the title Leonardo Burning, but don’t want to offend the worth of this street person Leonardo by seemingly trivializing the event; and the poem ends with a burning reference and I didn’t want to lessen the effectiveness of the poem. To burn merry Christmas is a swirling mystic somewhat ambiguous reference and I wanted it left like that, unrestrained.
Maybe I’ll have to stand back and let time pass before I can make final cuts.
As it is, the energy in there. It happened, I came upstairs and wrote it. At this point the poet is too close to the event to judge what has effectively transpired in the writing.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
tre marias
late morning coffee
near Santa Maria in Trastevere
mainly Italian tourists about
quietly milling this tranquil day
then beyond the fountain in the Piazza
for Chinese food with our friend Maria,
where yet another Maria
operates that restaurant
though not a true Maria
she was made in China with another name
but found it easier to be a Maria and go along
swiftly as the river flows though Roma
near Santa Maria in Trastevere
mainly Italian tourists about
quietly milling this tranquil day
then beyond the fountain in the Piazza
for Chinese food with our friend Maria,
where yet another Maria
operates that restaurant
though not a true Maria
she was made in China with another name
but found it easier to be a Maria and go along
swiftly as the river flows though Roma
Friday, December 18, 2009
make a list
passed Monica
said high a little
she was gone
see her twenty-three times a year about
talk more or less a minute each time
and of all the people i know
she is a good one
dresses neat, stands up straight, cheery
how are you i am fine that’s it
she gets a gold star in my memory
so if i made a list of everyone i know
she’d make the good list
once, years ago when i was sad
i made a list
why not try it
make a list of everyone you can think of
everyone you know
see who’s there
the list is privileged information
and you have a right to know
said high a little
she was gone
see her twenty-three times a year about
talk more or less a minute each time
and of all the people i know
she is a good one
dresses neat, stands up straight, cheery
how are you i am fine that’s it
she gets a gold star in my memory
so if i made a list of everyone i know
she’d make the good list
once, years ago when i was sad
i made a list
why not try it
make a list of everyone you can think of
everyone you know
see who’s there
the list is privileged information
and you have a right to know
Thursday, December 17, 2009
going about
going about in Roma
we have a car
and use it to get out
traffic clogged and lost
there is a slowing way down down
a large van is holding everyone up,
as we pass we see her reading a book
while texting on a cell phone
in circles by catacombs on Via Appia
old high stone walls so we can’t see
where we wander, which way we're headed
cloudy, so can’t tell north from south
then stopping for coffee, always a good idea
somewhere out of the center
where people get human again
we asked directions
sempre dritto, keep going straight ahead
that’s the best and favorite response
you’ll ever hear, no complications
they must teach it to children
strange, yet it works
for as all roads lead to Rome
inversely, when you are there
all roads will lead out of Rome
so no one is ever
really lost
only slowed
by traffic congestion
we have a car
and use it to get out
traffic clogged and lost
there is a slowing way down down
a large van is holding everyone up,
as we pass we see her reading a book
while texting on a cell phone
in circles by catacombs on Via Appia
old high stone walls so we can’t see
where we wander, which way we're headed
cloudy, so can’t tell north from south
then stopping for coffee, always a good idea
somewhere out of the center
where people get human again
we asked directions
sempre dritto, keep going straight ahead
that’s the best and favorite response
you’ll ever hear, no complications
they must teach it to children
strange, yet it works
for as all roads lead to Rome
inversely, when you are there
all roads will lead out of Rome
so no one is ever
really lost
only slowed
by traffic congestion
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
i've had it with you, Roma
i’ve had it with you, Roma
and refuse to be your fool any longer
two decades of chaos is enough
pushing, shoving, and oblivious pretentious aggravation
i’d rather pull my puppy’s ears
drag him out of the tiny box
from under the leaky sink
where i’d make him sleep if i were you
but to leave you, Roma
would be most difficult
to compensate for the loss
of aggravation
should i run stumbling against bulls in Spain
take lunging rapids in a leaky wooden boat
or walk in traffic blind folded
do please allow me to suffer longer
i know you lie and cheat to get your way
but loaded with art everywhere
you are noble, though distant and aloof
leave me unattended to wander in awe
scorch and boil me in summer’s cauldron
winters cast me out chilled into cold
treat me hard all seasons
if you must
but to turn away and leave you
as if you didn’t know me
would be more than i could bear
your tears would heap more agony on my anguished soul
allow perpetual suffering to continue
perhaps near the end you’ll cradle me
giving peace at last in knowing
that once you cared
for certain,
at the moment of torment’s end
my beloved,
i’d rather die in your arms
and refuse to be your fool any longer
two decades of chaos is enough
pushing, shoving, and oblivious pretentious aggravation
i’d rather pull my puppy’s ears
drag him out of the tiny box
from under the leaky sink
where i’d make him sleep if i were you
but to leave you, Roma
would be most difficult
to compensate for the loss
of aggravation
should i run stumbling against bulls in Spain
take lunging rapids in a leaky wooden boat
or walk in traffic blind folded
do please allow me to suffer longer
i know you lie and cheat to get your way
but loaded with art everywhere
you are noble, though distant and aloof
leave me unattended to wander in awe
scorch and boil me in summer’s cauldron
winters cast me out chilled into cold
treat me hard all seasons
if you must
but to turn away and leave you
as if you didn’t know me
would be more than i could bear
your tears would heap more agony on my anguished soul
allow perpetual suffering to continue
perhaps near the end you’ll cradle me
giving peace at last in knowing
that once you cared
for certain,
at the moment of torment’s end
my beloved,
i’d rather die in your arms
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
stolen horse
in light late afternoon chill rain
M. went to Standa to pick up things for diner
she’ll make pasta carbonara
carried a shoulder bag and an umbrella
bused up a few blocks
temperatures were dropping
she wore a hat pulled low
in gusts i started out to Alberto’s studio
along the way a couple called out
asked directions to Via Corso
i told them, pointed, down that way it begins
by the large monument at Piazza Venezia
then i walked out into heavy traffic
i was waiting for the light to change
must have forgotten, was distracted
from both directions cars were honking
made it calmly without incident,
and some embarrassment i digested
at that time
M. was carrying her loaded shopping bag
walking back across the bridge of angels
in front of the old castle San Angelo
there was an art show this weekend
Alberto told me his wife couldn’t go
because their five year old son
had homework to do
he said always there is too much homework
on the way home i saw Franco, age 67,
an Italian born in Libya
a persistent worker who lives miles away,
we crossed paths at the same corner in piazza Campo dei Fiori
near where he does inlay and waxing
fine detail in centuries old wood work
bought him coffee at the corner bar
he said a week ago gypsies stole
the cover for his motor bike
the evening before it disappeared
he saw the father and son checking it out
this weekend his motor bike,
his ride to work, was stolen
devastated, though tried not to show it
thievery is an invasion that strikes at the heart
i said it was like someone stealing his horse
he agreed, sadly, he agreed
we parted, i wished him well
by the time M. made it safely home
i did also, under city lights
and yes, her carbonara was outstanding
M. went to Standa to pick up things for diner
she’ll make pasta carbonara
carried a shoulder bag and an umbrella
bused up a few blocks
temperatures were dropping
she wore a hat pulled low
in gusts i started out to Alberto’s studio
along the way a couple called out
asked directions to Via Corso
i told them, pointed, down that way it begins
by the large monument at Piazza Venezia
then i walked out into heavy traffic
i was waiting for the light to change
must have forgotten, was distracted
from both directions cars were honking
made it calmly without incident,
and some embarrassment i digested
at that time
M. was carrying her loaded shopping bag
walking back across the bridge of angels
in front of the old castle San Angelo
there was an art show this weekend
Alberto told me his wife couldn’t go
because their five year old son
had homework to do
he said always there is too much homework
on the way home i saw Franco, age 67,
an Italian born in Libya
a persistent worker who lives miles away,
we crossed paths at the same corner in piazza Campo dei Fiori
near where he does inlay and waxing
fine detail in centuries old wood work
bought him coffee at the corner bar
he said a week ago gypsies stole
the cover for his motor bike
the evening before it disappeared
he saw the father and son checking it out
this weekend his motor bike,
his ride to work, was stolen
devastated, though tried not to show it
thievery is an invasion that strikes at the heart
i said it was like someone stealing his horse
he agreed, sadly, he agreed
we parted, i wished him well
by the time M. made it safely home
i did also, under city lights
and yes, her carbonara was outstanding
Monday, December 14, 2009
just say no to shopping
women don’t really want
hubby along slopping
always in the way
forever incompetent
to say they’ll take him
is only a scare tactic
a threat meant to show man
how brave they are
fighting fatties on electric isle-crowding carts
while finding the real bargains
checking what’s the latest
ahh, my queen of hearts, i know you’re da greatest
hubby along slopping
always in the way
forever incompetent
to say they’ll take him
is only a scare tactic
a threat meant to show man
how brave they are
fighting fatties on electric isle-crowding carts
while finding the real bargains
checking what’s the latest
ahh, my queen of hearts, i know you’re da greatest
Sunday, December 13, 2009
making a list
making a list
or soon will be
nothing serious yet
in my head at first
have to get things in order
i’ll jot notes in a minute
when i get a few ideas going
i’ve just gotten started
right now, i’m looking out the window
and there, she is in the yard
head down, pulling weeds
doesn’t stop, ‘cept to wipe her brow
black birds and robins fight in the bird bath
nothing overly untoward, only showing who’s tougher
and there she keeps going, pulling’ weeds
i wonder what she’s thinking now
she had better wrap it up soon
come in and clean up
you know she ought to be
making a list
or soon will be
nothing serious yet
in my head at first
have to get things in order
i’ll jot notes in a minute
when i get a few ideas going
i’ve just gotten started
right now, i’m looking out the window
and there, she is in the yard
head down, pulling weeds
doesn’t stop, ‘cept to wipe her brow
black birds and robins fight in the bird bath
nothing overly untoward, only showing who’s tougher
and there she keeps going, pulling’ weeds
i wonder what she’s thinking now
she had better wrap it up soon
come in and clean up
you know she ought to be
making a list
Saturday, December 12, 2009
the best
Zachariah makes the best pizza
he’s why we go there
house red amid pre crowd quiet
that’s a friday evening meal
Zachariah, two things i’ll recall
at the end of my life
one is your pizza
a pause as he reflected
Zachariah then asked,
and what is the second?
silently i tight-lip grinned
then we both laughed
he’s why we go there
house red amid pre crowd quiet
that’s a friday evening meal
Zachariah, two things i’ll recall
at the end of my life
one is your pizza
a pause as he reflected
Zachariah then asked,
and what is the second?
silently i tight-lip grinned
then we both laughed
Friday, December 11, 2009
i am a writer
i am a writer
alive in these words
breathe in the spaces
my pores
absorb periods
that’s why you see none
a flicked bit of ash from
every time i smoked
like food over a fire
with a line into water,
waiting the next one
to donate himself to feed me
phish swimmings
what he does he says
feels so good
i write for no one that pays me,
feeds or gives me shelter
am happy at this moment
writing especially for you
it’s practically i am
like speaking to you.
oh, see that
a period
quick - ingest it
alive in these words
breathe in the spaces
my pores
absorb periods
that’s why you see none
a flicked bit of ash from
every time i smoked
like food over a fire
with a line into water,
waiting the next one
to donate himself to feed me
phish swimmings
what he does he says
feels so good
i write for no one that pays me,
feeds or gives me shelter
am happy at this moment
writing especially for you
it’s practically i am
like speaking to you.
oh, see that
a period
quick - ingest it
Thursday, December 10, 2009
the balance
a leaning fence in a fallow field
pile all parts in a heap
the good over here
bad on that side
so when standing back
way far back to see
the resulting evaluation indicates
an evident perception
worrying excessively
over minutia
or insufficiently about
everything else
pile all parts in a heap
the good over here
bad on that side
so when standing back
way far back to see
the resulting evaluation indicates
an evident perception
worrying excessively
over minutia
or insufficiently about
everything else
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
pasquali's for the holiday
M. thought like an artichoke
i mean she thought she’d like one
a fond memory
I knew what she was talking about
without family in Roma
holidays are our time to eat out
we walked to a popular locale in the ghetto
forty minutes before the usual lunch time
already a crowd outside was buzzing
all had made reservations the day before
the head man said they were fully booked
the doors hadn’t opened yet we were turned away
bused up the Corso through holiday crowds
then around the corner to Pasquali’s
a familiar favored haunt,
one we had found a decade ago
he and his wife work the counter,
daughter cooks, the son waits tables
they smiled when they saw us
as we smiled at them
we took our table again
one we had known and tested
ate pasta amtriciana
drank red house wine with our meal
all was as it should be
we ate among friends
it was like home again
for the holiday
i mean she thought she’d like one
a fond memory
I knew what she was talking about
without family in Roma
holidays are our time to eat out
we walked to a popular locale in the ghetto
forty minutes before the usual lunch time
already a crowd outside was buzzing
all had made reservations the day before
the head man said they were fully booked
the doors hadn’t opened yet we were turned away
bused up the Corso through holiday crowds
then around the corner to Pasquali’s
a familiar favored haunt,
one we had found a decade ago
he and his wife work the counter,
daughter cooks, the son waits tables
they smiled when they saw us
as we smiled at them
we took our table again
one we had known and tested
ate pasta amtriciana
drank red house wine with our meal
all was as it should be
we ate among friends
it was like home again
for the holiday
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
not comets
comments
(you have to click on it
and i have to tell you
cause the colors aren't right.
like, i messed up the way i picked them)
what you are clicking on is a poem from april '08 called "i feel like you"
i read it again and thought you'd like it if it put it out again.
(you have to click on it
and i have to tell you
cause the colors aren't right.
like, i messed up the way i picked them)
what you are clicking on is a poem from april '08 called "i feel like you"
i read it again and thought you'd like it if it put it out again.
days off
a moderate, quiet tuesday
a catholic holy day
also a state holiday
they work together
monday was the ponte
the bridge between sunday
and the official state holiday
italians know how to take time off
walked to the ghetto
for an eleven a.m. coffee
plus a slice of thin crust pizza with
sweet red peppers and a light tomato sauce
walked back by the turtle fountain
built from 1581 - 1589
a beautiful, calming sight
for a light rain tuesday
Monday, December 07, 2009
sifting over time
couldn’t say
for sure
don’t know
if i was sleeping
it seemed
my brain remained awake last night
working, sifting, sorting
rather like that
thusly night went by
a least that’s the impression
i held tight
when i got up this morning
for sure
don’t know
if i was sleeping
it seemed
my brain remained awake last night
working, sifting, sorting
rather like that
thusly night went by
a least that’s the impression
i held tight
when i got up this morning
Sunday, December 06, 2009
the magnitude of life
who could have imagined
dealing with the like
largesse peppered with surprises
some in joy, some in crisis
waking early with morning coffee
to find life going already, rolling steady
by warm golden window light
you know life’s a sweet package
variety you could not have conceived
and while not visible at first glance
something is going on, darling
perchance not always what it seems
growing day by day
born of dreams
hear the joy of life in bird voices
and in the patter of the rain
dealing with the like
largesse peppered with surprises
some in joy, some in crisis
waking early with morning coffee
to find life going already, rolling steady
by warm golden window light
you know life’s a sweet package
variety you could not have conceived
and while not visible at first glance
something is going on, darling
perchance not always what it seems
growing day by day
born of dreams
hear the joy of life in bird voices
and in the patter of the rain
Saturday, December 05, 2009
pigeon
here on a third floor
can’t see the sky, unless
i stick my head out the window
and look straight up
still they zip by this narrow space,
fifteen feet to the building opposite
a blur by my window
thirty miles an hour
seems fast enough
they’re been clocked at 59
and often they zip by
with a partner
good old computer
tells me how fast pigeons fly
when what i see is a streaking blur
outside going by
can’t see the sky, unless
i stick my head out the window
and look straight up
still they zip by this narrow space,
fifteen feet to the building opposite
a blur by my window
thirty miles an hour
seems fast enough
they’re been clocked at 59
and often they zip by
with a partner
good old computer
tells me how fast pigeons fly
when what i see is a streaking blur
outside going by
Friday, December 04, 2009
slip
when i slip through
a stream in the
wings of time
and don’t return
leaving nary a trace
fear not for me
understand
i’m off somewhere
having an adventure
a stream in the
wings of time
and don’t return
leaving nary a trace
fear not for me
understand
i’m off somewhere
having an adventure
Thursday, December 03, 2009
the table
with three guys at the table
didn’t know who they were
in discussion most interesting
don’t recall what was said
some time had passed when i looked to the clock
it was difficult to read the red glowing numbers
had to lean forward
to a sitting position
i was lying in bed, there was no table
there were not three others
so with whom did i speak with
in this vivid dream
didn’t know who they were
in discussion most interesting
don’t recall what was said
some time had passed when i looked to the clock
it was difficult to read the red glowing numbers
had to lean forward
to a sitting position
i was lying in bed, there was no table
there were not three others
so with whom did i speak with
in this vivid dream
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
the wash
over there
pulled up a chair
talking to the laundry
the washer then the dryer
Obama sending thirty thousand more troops
to Afghanistan
the left is yelling
why’s he doing that?
well he is a politician that got elected
what do you expect
Ron Paul was laughed at like ufos
he wanted to bring them all home
from all around the world
no more policemen for the world
why guard our borders in peace
money, money money can be made with war
play the game you get elected
you want to bring troops home
you’re not making dough for the money people
makes the world go round you know
grease those wheels
pull the strings
you want to play
you’ve got to pay
it’s flowing in now
someone makes guns
buys the bullets
fantastic tanks
nice boots
sends turkeys to the troops for the holidays
pass me the haliburton, will ya?
back and forth, costs a lot
tax payers pay the money players
talking to the spinning dryer
who else will listen?
wave the flag
want a medal don’t you?
a picture of your boy in uniform
that’s him on the mantel
rate me fifty on foldin’ clothes
I’m just saying
heaven knows
pulled up a chair
talking to the laundry
the washer then the dryer
Obama sending thirty thousand more troops
to Afghanistan
the left is yelling
why’s he doing that?
well he is a politician that got elected
what do you expect
Ron Paul was laughed at like ufos
he wanted to bring them all home
from all around the world
no more policemen for the world
why guard our borders in peace
money, money money can be made with war
play the game you get elected
you want to bring troops home
you’re not making dough for the money people
makes the world go round you know
grease those wheels
pull the strings
you want to play
you’ve got to pay
it’s flowing in now
someone makes guns
buys the bullets
fantastic tanks
nice boots
sends turkeys to the troops for the holidays
pass me the haliburton, will ya?
back and forth, costs a lot
tax payers pay the money players
talking to the spinning dryer
who else will listen?
wave the flag
want a medal don’t you?
a picture of your boy in uniform
that’s him on the mantel
rate me fifty on foldin’ clothes
I’m just saying
heaven knows
ciao ciao
spoke to an italian friend on the phone
he was born in Tunisia
we speak mostly in English
says he has to practice
he’s my friend, that’s okay with me
when you close a phone call
you always say ciao ciao
it is a commonly used form of bye-bye,
or talk to you later, always used on the phone
as i closed the phone call i said choo- choo
i didn’t mean to
it just came out
i’ll pretend he didn’t hear it
and he’ll think he imagined it
choo -choo?
he was born in Tunisia
we speak mostly in English
says he has to practice
he’s my friend, that’s okay with me
when you close a phone call
you always say ciao ciao
it is a commonly used form of bye-bye,
or talk to you later, always used on the phone
as i closed the phone call i said choo- choo
i didn’t mean to
it just came out
i’ll pretend he didn’t hear it
and he’ll think he imagined it
choo -choo?
Monday, November 30, 2009
driving
held up stopped at a red light
by a red light for nearly a breathalyzer,
til he decided coffee in a dark glass jug
is not always moonshine
they are doing a jig saw jig
on the square, guys holding steel poles
where a bob cat’s running
tearing sidewalk
was called Mud Brook Creek there
now it’s just Mud Brook
when they put in a golf course
they removed the redundancy
pretty fancy
what a few bucks
and a bob cat
can do
not giving you the eye
i’m in line behind you, nightingale
you see, the light is green
that’s why I’m honking
by a red light for nearly a breathalyzer,
til he decided coffee in a dark glass jug
is not always moonshine
they are doing a jig saw jig
on the square, guys holding steel poles
where a bob cat’s running
tearing sidewalk
was called Mud Brook Creek there
now it’s just Mud Brook
when they put in a golf course
they removed the redundancy
pretty fancy
what a few bucks
and a bob cat
can do
not giving you the eye
i’m in line behind you, nightingale
you see, the light is green
that’s why I’m honking
Sunday, November 29, 2009
national health care
i heard American Indians
have national health care
out there
somewhere
it is said to be lousy
does that surprise?
this is a poor example
for the system
isn’t lousy
the way
we’ve always
treated Indians?
if it were for the wife
of a politician
you know the same system
would work well
have national health care
out there
somewhere
it is said to be lousy
does that surprise?
this is a poor example
for the system
isn’t lousy
the way
we’ve always
treated Indians?
if it were for the wife
of a politician
you know the same system
would work well
Saturday, November 28, 2009
noon late november
sky blue noon late November, jacket open
as i crossed the new Ponte Sisto
a replacement for Pons Aurelius. 300 A.D.
renamed for Pope Sixtus IV , 772 A.D.
this new stone foot bridge was built 1473-‘79
on the middle of the span
a guy sleeping on one side
three guys begging on the other
haphazard semi -skilled professionals,
raggity lousy beggars really, too intimidating
real poor people don’t often enter Roma’s heart
saw Alex when i crossed to Piazza Trilussa
out posting flyers for his music school,
footwork keeping his dream a reality
one well- placed notice at a time
then, sat outside at San Callisto coffee car
near the main piazza, Santa Maria in Trestevere
had a latte and cornetto with James,
off booze five years ago
he’s planning to open a school for children
bought a vegetable sandwich for 1.60 euro
pizza bread, tomatoes, cheese, some greens,
costs 4 euro on the other side of the river
back across the bridge, flashing blue lights
on an emergency van
they took away that sleeping man
didn’t run the siren when they left
the blue flashing lights were off
a some body that won’t need rushing
Friday, November 27, 2009
fusion
i missed fusion the first time
like missing an exploding dinosaur
unless you were kin,
in the kitchen with it when it happened,
or it owed you money
it’s nothing to regret
outside the apple of the witch
with castle lights across the river
amid heavy traffic and exhaust
under flying clouds and half moon
running, as from a dog
Giacomo picked me up, took me to the Auditorium,
Rome’s fantastic new home of concerts
to hear his nephew with five others doing fusion
music on speed and steroids
melted glass frozen and shattered
then dark and mysterious
growing into a tyrannosaurus spitting bits of pterodactyl
morphing into a runaway locomotive
a turbulent nightmare
expect a giant Schwarzenegger Terminator to rip
through the walls
have a nice day
oh, and look both ways
like missing an exploding dinosaur
unless you were kin,
in the kitchen with it when it happened,
or it owed you money
it’s nothing to regret
outside the apple of the witch
with castle lights across the river
amid heavy traffic and exhaust
under flying clouds and half moon
running, as from a dog
Giacomo picked me up, took me to the Auditorium,
Rome’s fantastic new home of concerts
to hear his nephew with five others doing fusion
music on speed and steroids
melted glass frozen and shattered
then dark and mysterious
growing into a tyrannosaurus spitting bits of pterodactyl
morphing into a runaway locomotive
a turbulent nightmare
expect a giant Schwarzenegger Terminator to rip
through the walls
have a nice day
oh, and look both ways
Thursday, November 26, 2009
armed and to the point
so elderly neighbor lady
sees M. outside
leaves house of disease
and saunters over
fumbling with her hands,
asks sotto voce
after checking both ways
if we’ll be leaving soon for Italy
then nods as if helping
with the anticipated answer.
M. says The Man has left
while she’ll go in another week
neighbor lady sagely nods again,
considers, and says
uh, call if there’s any problem
a long pause
M. leans on the rake,
waiting her out
under long blue November skies
until at last neighbor lady,
fearing for M’s safety
clears her throat ,
quite serious now, glances askance
then looks earthward
to humbly explain
that if M. calls
uh, her husband,
the grumpy mid-octogenarian
will run right over
in the middle of the night (chuckle)
as he’s licensed to carry a loaded weapon. (OMG!)
this is the groundskeeper who mows
three times a day
with various loud riding mowers
because six of our vagrant leaves
have carried deftly his way
on the prevailing
autumn light winds
sees M. outside
leaves house of disease
and saunters over
fumbling with her hands,
asks sotto voce
after checking both ways
if we’ll be leaving soon for Italy
then nods as if helping
with the anticipated answer.
M. says The Man has left
while she’ll go in another week
neighbor lady sagely nods again,
considers, and says
uh, call if there’s any problem
a long pause
M. leans on the rake,
waiting her out
under long blue November skies
until at last neighbor lady,
fearing for M’s safety
clears her throat ,
quite serious now, glances askance
then looks earthward
to humbly explain
that if M. calls
uh, her husband,
the grumpy mid-octogenarian
will run right over
in the middle of the night (chuckle)
as he’s licensed to carry a loaded weapon. (OMG!)
this is the groundskeeper who mows
three times a day
with various loud riding mowers
because six of our vagrant leaves
have carried deftly his way
on the prevailing
autumn light winds
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
the field of flowers
Campo dei Fiori means field of flowers
that was yesterdays vision of the area
today in 2009 i had to stop and look both ways
to cross through the center of the field of flowers
i wore my heavy jacket
others had on t-shirts
from our third floor dungeon window
i have to lean far out only to see the sky
the market is jumping in full flavor and scents
traffic, food stalls, fruits and vegetables, pots and pans
musicians, tourists, workers and locals of every venue
and yes, three stands that sell flowers
living nearby i woke out of dream to a persistent car alarm
and thought of the keystone cops in silent movies
running, clamoring, bumping into each other in comic confusion
in silent films the words flash on the screen. this says - alarm
only no one ran today, nothing unusual happened
no one laughed
for an hour the persistent, clear-voiced, changing squeal sang,
echoed along stone buildings and cobblestone streets
i awoke after twelve hours sleep
now a week has passed since i flew here
groggy yet, my body’s clock
is wound but not set
the cannon on the hill fired the noon shot as i left our apartment
to rid myself of the alarm
better to enter the field of flowers
and look both ways
that was yesterdays vision of the area
today in 2009 i had to stop and look both ways
to cross through the center of the field of flowers
i wore my heavy jacket
others had on t-shirts
from our third floor dungeon window
i have to lean far out only to see the sky
the market is jumping in full flavor and scents
traffic, food stalls, fruits and vegetables, pots and pans
musicians, tourists, workers and locals of every venue
and yes, three stands that sell flowers
living nearby i woke out of dream to a persistent car alarm
and thought of the keystone cops in silent movies
running, clamoring, bumping into each other in comic confusion
in silent films the words flash on the screen. this says - alarm
only no one ran today, nothing unusual happened
no one laughed
for an hour the persistent, clear-voiced, changing squeal sang,
echoed along stone buildings and cobblestone streets
i awoke after twelve hours sleep
now a week has passed since i flew here
groggy yet, my body’s clock
is wound but not set
the cannon on the hill fired the noon shot as i left our apartment
to rid myself of the alarm
better to enter the field of flowers
and look both ways
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
now and tomorrow
met up with an old friend on the street
said he was working with a friend who yesterday
was sitting in a chair calmly talking with his wife
and then died quite unexpectedly
i continued on my way to the Laundromat
the door was wide open when i got there
the fire department chopped it open
to get to the flames the night before
walking back home i stopped to see a friend
of my friend who last year had a stroke
on a cruise ship to Italy
was robbed when he got here
had planned to visit his cousin in Switzerland
she died the day before he boarded the train
not the family visit he expected
he arrived in time for a funeral
but i stopped to see a friend of that friend
i pass that store on my way home
they said she didn’t work there anymore
her last day was yesterday
it’s true for all of us
the last day we had was yesterday
generally we don’t think of it that way
what’s our concern is now and tomorrow
said he was working with a friend who yesterday
was sitting in a chair calmly talking with his wife
and then died quite unexpectedly
i continued on my way to the Laundromat
the door was wide open when i got there
the fire department chopped it open
to get to the flames the night before
walking back home i stopped to see a friend
of my friend who last year had a stroke
on a cruise ship to Italy
was robbed when he got here
had planned to visit his cousin in Switzerland
she died the day before he boarded the train
not the family visit he expected
he arrived in time for a funeral
but i stopped to see a friend of that friend
i pass that store on my way home
they said she didn’t work there anymore
her last day was yesterday
it’s true for all of us
the last day we had was yesterday
generally we don’t think of it that way
what’s our concern is now and tomorrow
Monday, November 23, 2009
dusk on the way home
dusk on the way home
saw Alberto at Porta Blu
afternoon classes underway
seekers of art ability
drawing circles, mixing color
perusing modern ways
walking back in evening’s cool air
on a narrow way into Piazza Navona
i pass the minister of the interior
a glint of recognition in his eye
in dusk darkness and alley shadow
i see him only when we are face to face
he lives around the corner from me
usually his guards are in formation
and then it is easier to see him coming
leaving the piazza i was distracted
and forgot to look again at the beauty
passing earlier today i paused a while
in the sight and scent of that grand piazza
to admire Bernini’s work again
the two smaller fountains with mythical characters
the larger splashing waters in the center
tribute to four great rivers
topped by an Egyptian obelisk
reaching above all
tomorrow i may look again
now it’s to home
too cool without a jacket anyway
a few paces before Campo dei Fiori
the tune Autumn Leaves from the familiar sax
of a group urging coins from tourists
floats in the air, ricochets off cold stone
where, as years pass changes are small steps taken
seems that autumns are reluctant to come and go
saw Alberto at Porta Blu
afternoon classes underway
seekers of art ability
drawing circles, mixing color
perusing modern ways
walking back in evening’s cool air
on a narrow way into Piazza Navona
i pass the minister of the interior
a glint of recognition in his eye
in dusk darkness and alley shadow
i see him only when we are face to face
he lives around the corner from me
usually his guards are in formation
and then it is easier to see him coming
leaving the piazza i was distracted
and forgot to look again at the beauty
passing earlier today i paused a while
in the sight and scent of that grand piazza
to admire Bernini’s work again
the two smaller fountains with mythical characters
the larger splashing waters in the center
tribute to four great rivers
topped by an Egyptian obelisk
reaching above all
tomorrow i may look again
now it’s to home
too cool without a jacket anyway
a few paces before Campo dei Fiori
the tune Autumn Leaves from the familiar sax
of a group urging coins from tourists
floats in the air, ricochets off cold stone
where, as years pass changes are small steps taken
seems that autumns are reluctant to come and go
Sunday, November 22, 2009
your call
your call
will be answered
in the order
in which it was received
i called once
how much order is one call?
was I out of order before I called
or as soon as?
why can’t it be said in English
like, wait your turn on hold
until a human is available
or, is that like difficult?
will be answered
in the order
in which it was received
i called once
how much order is one call?
was I out of order before I called
or as soon as?
why can’t it be said in English
like, wait your turn on hold
until a human is available
or, is that like difficult?
Saturday, November 21, 2009
the mail man
the mail man is gone
don’t mean he left his truck
hasn’t walked away
tossed his hat in the bushes
but he is gone, way gone
into a thousand points of light
unlike the evaporated pony express rider
this one still has a job, delivering advertisements
now he or she has become
21st Century’s - Postal Worker
look around, who’s next for renaming
Christmas Person?
ho ho ho
wash you mouth
don’t mean he left his truck
hasn’t walked away
tossed his hat in the bushes
but he is gone, way gone
into a thousand points of light
unlike the evaporated pony express rider
this one still has a job, delivering advertisements
now he or she has become
21st Century’s - Postal Worker
look around, who’s next for renaming
Christmas Person?
ho ho ho
wash you mouth
Friday, November 20, 2009
jet laggg
rushed out of the airport
jumped in a cab
went seventy-five feet
the guy slammed on the brakes
wasn’t a taxi, picked up his mother
made me get out
i know mama liked me
as he squealed off, she waved goodbye
jumped in a cab
went seventy-five feet
the guy slammed on the brakes
wasn’t a taxi, picked up his mother
made me get out
i know mama liked me
as he squealed off, she waved goodbye
at forty thousand feet
at forty thousand feet
the cabin is warm beyond comfort
four people on this flight
are earning negative karma
aggression 2009 is growing
healthier than financial systems
two hours to Roma
i’m lighter than air
the cabin is warm beyond comfort
four people on this flight
are earning negative karma
aggression 2009 is growing
healthier than financial systems
two hours to Roma
i’m lighter than air
Thursday, November 19, 2009
the leader
followed by his dad
a kid waddled by,
young enough
that you’d still tell his age in months
ask him anything
but don’t expect an answer
for although he talks incessantly
what he says is indecipherable
if encouraged to develop this skill,
smiles well and stands tall
this child could grow to be
a formidable leader of inestimable value
a kid waddled by,
young enough
that you’d still tell his age in months
ask him anything
but don’t expect an answer
for although he talks incessantly
what he says is indecipherable
if encouraged to develop this skill,
smiles well and stands tall
this child could grow to be
a formidable leader of inestimable value
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
particles in space
i pay to put you in charge over me
a.
after i got my shoes back on
walked from terminal A
the long way down to C
then checked my ticket
C-5 was my seat,
my terminal is A
C-seat,
A terminal
error made walking
did the same last year
so i had a long trek back
the other way,
from where i came
this journey has begun
b.
Kevin runs the magazine stand
near gate 7 and 8
terminal A
Cleveland Hopkins airport
is fifty, looks thirty
bald, black, comfortable with life
we talked some, he’s been to Africa
says he likes his job
been there a month
mentioned five other careers
next year we’ll see
if he is there
who will remember
that we spoke?
i have my ways
i have my notes
c.
small plane seats are C,A,F &D
part of the new world order?
i notice they took out the rhymers B,C & E
why’d D remain?
please explain
d.
small plane
seems large enough
two guys talking
two rows back
in lieu of listening to loud babbles
i changed my seat during takeoff
e.
so high open flat
hills and clouds and the haze
way out into the curvature of the earth
below
a black meandering
all the way down
must be river
looking down for crop circles and pictographs
wavy planting that follows the hills
the dark creeks look like cracks
a maze of houses
village forever to the horizons
we were following a river
now a highway
over ball fields
now a quarry, more houses and trees
the pilot just said,
“good morning, we’re starting our descent
and it’s a beautiful November day”
corkscrew down
we’re coming to Philadelphia
at the airport could have ridden a train
into the city see Independence Hall
i’ll wait instead
as once a day is enough airport security
f.
from outside i see
a large woman would-be - girl
packed snuggly in pedal pushers,
up to her knees in tattoos,
weaved through the tables at a terminal restaurant
a bull circling for the kill
her hair long blond thin and frizzed
resembles someone jumping out of a plane
who has not opened the parachute
or similar to someone being electrocuted in cartoon animation
she must do that to herself
because she thinks it makes her beautiful
she’s has enough volume
and swagger
friends wouldn’t
contradict her
g.
they call to board
will fly all night
over the cold north Atlantic
on auto pilot
so those called Pilot
can sleep
a.
after i got my shoes back on
walked from terminal A
the long way down to C
then checked my ticket
C-5 was my seat,
my terminal is A
C-seat,
A terminal
error made walking
did the same last year
so i had a long trek back
the other way,
from where i came
this journey has begun
b.
Kevin runs the magazine stand
near gate 7 and 8
terminal A
Cleveland Hopkins airport
is fifty, looks thirty
bald, black, comfortable with life
we talked some, he’s been to Africa
says he likes his job
been there a month
mentioned five other careers
next year we’ll see
if he is there
who will remember
that we spoke?
i have my ways
i have my notes
c.
small plane seats are C,A,F &D
part of the new world order?
i notice they took out the rhymers B,C & E
why’d D remain?
please explain
d.
small plane
seems large enough
two guys talking
two rows back
in lieu of listening to loud babbles
i changed my seat during takeoff
e.
so high open flat
hills and clouds and the haze
way out into the curvature of the earth
below
a black meandering
all the way down
must be river
looking down for crop circles and pictographs
wavy planting that follows the hills
the dark creeks look like cracks
a maze of houses
village forever to the horizons
we were following a river
now a highway
over ball fields
now a quarry, more houses and trees
the pilot just said,
“good morning, we’re starting our descent
and it’s a beautiful November day”
corkscrew down
we’re coming to Philadelphia
at the airport could have ridden a train
into the city see Independence Hall
i’ll wait instead
as once a day is enough airport security
f.
from outside i see
a large woman would-be - girl
packed snuggly in pedal pushers,
up to her knees in tattoos,
weaved through the tables at a terminal restaurant
a bull circling for the kill
her hair long blond thin and frizzed
resembles someone jumping out of a plane
who has not opened the parachute
or similar to someone being electrocuted in cartoon animation
she must do that to herself
because she thinks it makes her beautiful
she’s has enough volume
and swagger
friends wouldn’t
contradict her
g.
they call to board
will fly all night
over the cold north Atlantic
on auto pilot
so those called Pilot
can sleep
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
bid peppers in Belize
in a clearing
on a corner
outside the jungle
in the sunshine
a large local woman
in a blue dress with flower prints
sells donuts and sandwiches
from a tall brightly painted wooden wheeled cart
and a few things to drink
like beer, like coke, like water
i’ll have a taco
bid o’ bidow peppers? she says
are the bidow peppers hot? i ask
she looks at me, shakes her head
does not answer
and repeats, bid o’ bidow peppers?
and i asked f they are hot
or are they sweet
she slowly repeats her question
wan bid or bidow peppers?
the brain wave light turned green and I got on
oh, bid, i’ll have it bid peppers
on a corner
outside the jungle
in the sunshine
a large local woman
in a blue dress with flower prints
sells donuts and sandwiches
from a tall brightly painted wooden wheeled cart
and a few things to drink
like beer, like coke, like water
i’ll have a taco
bid o’ bidow peppers? she says
are the bidow peppers hot? i ask
she looks at me, shakes her head
does not answer
and repeats, bid o’ bidow peppers?
and i asked f they are hot
or are they sweet
she slowly repeats her question
wan bid or bidow peppers?
the brain wave light turned green and I got on
oh, bid, i’ll have it bid peppers
Monday, November 16, 2009
weather in
weather in Ohio’s
not nigh on to winter
without a jacket
mid November
known winter severe
have seen how it goes
driving with chains
doing battle with snows
changes come slowly
hereabouts, no doubt
take how it happens
great snows or without
not nigh on to winter
without a jacket
mid November
known winter severe
have seen how it goes
driving with chains
doing battle with snows
changes come slowly
hereabouts, no doubt
take how it happens
great snows or without
Sunday, November 15, 2009
play serious
when M. was kids
and the like
her gang of play partners
were blood brothers
cut their fingers to do it
somebody had a knife
is what she said
guess they were believers
hey,we went to movies too
but cowboys and Indians
and blood brother stuff
for us pretending was good enough
when they were cutting fingers
we were making mud pies
and never
tried to eat ‘em
i wonder, when they did
one potato two potato
how deep did they
plant the loser?
and the like
her gang of play partners
were blood brothers
cut their fingers to do it
somebody had a knife
is what she said
guess they were believers
hey,we went to movies too
but cowboys and Indians
and blood brother stuff
for us pretending was good enough
when they were cutting fingers
we were making mud pies
and never
tried to eat ‘em
i wonder, when they did
one potato two potato
how deep did they
plant the loser?
Saturday, November 14, 2009
i like dogs
i like dogs
well, have liked
there were times
anyway,
i’m sitting with coffee
thinking
how they can stand there
looking around
as if they have something
on their mind,
mind singular
how many dog minds are there?
one for each?
seems insufficient
they need more or bigger
or what they have to be greased
all in all, there are enough dog brains around
i prefer not to see them any smarter
waiting in line at the bank, lifting a leg
then asking to borrow a pen
this is the end
of this dog poem
thank
goodness
well, have liked
there were times
anyway,
i’m sitting with coffee
thinking
how they can stand there
looking around
as if they have something
on their mind,
mind singular
how many dog minds are there?
one for each?
seems insufficient
they need more or bigger
or what they have to be greased
all in all, there are enough dog brains around
i prefer not to see them any smarter
waiting in line at the bank, lifting a leg
then asking to borrow a pen
this is the end
of this dog poem
thank
goodness
Labels:
dog
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)