old

now I know why
old guys wear suspenders

cause there comes a time in life
when a man has no ass,

and that’s about the time
you finally realize
that you see more old drunks
than you do
old doctors

time to be wasting

awakened by the thunder boom
to start to another brutal rainy day,
below now, from the window i see
squatty dogs in sporty plaid slickers
out for a float and a crap
then home for a nap
while hard strung owners, with plastic bags,
chase down the street
before it gets away, faraway
before crap gets away,
a somber melody
in the key of life
for the eternal city

PWB Poetry for the Holidays

Happy I am to participate in Poets Who Blog Twelve Days of Poetry. Check them out, please. Say hello for me.

Happy Holidays,
Jack

the poor crazy lady

for her,
wherever she may be,
not like Heidi the locally known,
quite often drunken
homeless woman of Borgo Pio
who every week fell off the wagon
drank too much and then according to the news
finally died of complications relating to exposure
one extremely cold winter's night
in the doorway of Vatican Radio

this is another thing, something else
although she too was homeless
the poor crazy lady at Campo Dei Fiori,
gone now just a few months
I forget her name already,
stayed around the piazza for years,
maybe five, maybe six years,
moved from outside coffee bar table
to table to doorstep, with pen and paper
writing long notes, sewing, repairing her clothes
crocheted once in a while, or just sitting,
looking off, through and beyond

dressed inconspicuously, well enough,
sometimes had a crazy hat
didn’t drink to excess, an occasional beer

only once in a while she flipped out,
just a yell to hear herself,
for all to hear
a long wailing call, nothing more,
some said she yelled when she ran out of medicine
I don’t know if this is true, I think sometimes she yelled
because she felt like it

most always she was fine,
stayed around, a stray from another world,
observed others sometimes, but generally
didn’t see us, minded her own business
tourists didn’t notice her,
didn’t make a mess, kept to herself

when I inquired I heard they took her to hospital
I tried to find out more
no more of her story is known or spoken about
did she suddenly get worse in her behavior,
or did a chic store owner tire of her hanging around,
think it was bad for business?

they do come and they go
on the ever slow tide,
one day they appear,
stiff wooden ghost ships out of the mist,
greyed sails torn, half raised flag
from no discernable country
even in this aged piazza
of calls, vegetable stands, residents, and churches,
of restaurants, stores, shutters, cobblestone and old lamps
heat and damp, cold winds and early morning stillness
once in a while even fixtures are changed

a tear for what’s her name

like flying

they’re still talking about it and well we should
i didn’t vote for a prisoner of war
who doesn’t know he owns seven houses,
a hero is something else,

and i didn’t vote for cute skirt, dim light,
i’m an independent, always have been
and voted for youth and intelligence
we could use some of each

by the way,
now at presidential news conferences
reporters will be required to remove their shoes
and leave them at the door
think of it like flying,
it’s like flying

how to do economy

economy is like break fast cereal
you need about a hundred of them
lined up in big boxes, the bigger the better
wild animated characters, some animals
in bright primary colors, drawn with thick, sloppy lines,
large eyes, big teeth and grins
out of control, fearless, taking a chance
if they dance and play an instrument - that’s good

then a dull leader you can make fun of
funny looking, one who tries to be serious
names like healthy, lean and natural are good
as a rule - bears are better than elephants
add money and stir
if speech is necessary “create terms”
now you’re doing economy,
then get out before you’re caught

the old days

in the old days, say 1850,
when the barber shaved someone
did the local blacksmith make the razor
from the steel of wagon wheels?

Sheffield, England produced
straight steel razors, popular then,
they were often honed and stropped
you’ve seen it in the movies

here’s why it’s called the old days,
in 1850 the population of the
Unites States was 23 million
today urban Tokyo has 28 million

indians

indians lived where i lived
many years before
they taught their kids to hunt and fish
and painting passed their lore

when roads were only twigs bent
in winters severe
and fathers left for day, with sons,
to follow the wounded deer

indians lived where i lived
only many years before
when morning sun was sacred,
according to their lore

fires burned by the river in
cold nights, long and clear
strong in nature and in will
they stalked for food, the deer

i'd like to sleep under a tree
you and me
i'd like to sleep under a tree
just you and me

(yes my daughter, Catherine, when you were very young I wrote this song for your entertainment.)

so many, so much

many web sites
much information
to read and digest,
i keep it quick so
you can look and nod
then get on
with life

go read a book
write a book
eat a cookie,
this time of year
a four syllable word i like is
hibernation - something constructive:
eat a lot then sleep all winter