approximations

Italian national TV news at seven
is an approximation of the starting time,
could be three or four minutes later,
it all depends,
so don't set your clock by it

lines down the middle of streets in Roma
also are approximations,
indications for vehicles
that give a general idea where to drive,
you better bet your life on it

of the sea

the music of continuous waves
beat cleanses my soul
repeatedly bringing dreams,
stir turning clear waters

until fragile yellow
washes dawn silver sea,
sky grows light blue
and new gold day begins

somewhere, down Italy
to here by car or train
have returned to dream, digest and breathe
this thing again

from the terrace
over sounding waters
star light calls, i tell them
let’s go, take me

until that time comes
i’ll dream and wait,
these waves in my heart
have a place for me

somewhere out of time
a poets corner of many words
beyond the angle of night
a deep universe in order

i live near the sea
no matter where home
appears to be
or where rest my bones

in high wind
the long blue and fish
is where i begin,
my deepest wish

by the snap of sail,
pull of the tide
when you tell the tale
know there i hide

for i am of the sea
through not by address
a longing inside called water
calls to me more often than less

Antonio Salvatore

on the little electric bus
i sat next to a fellow with a case
and a bandaged right hand
we talked, immediately got along well

a very interesting guy
with a home in the Albino hills outside of Rome
a boat he loves in Sardegna
i told him we lived ten years on a boat
in Sausalito, on San Francisco bay

he’s doing a concert in San Fran April 24
he’s Antonio Salvatore a world class violinist
always first violinist for Ennio Morricone,
travels the world, many awards to his credit

we talked until my stop ended our chat
i’m sorry i didn’t have a card to give him,
an immediate acquaintance lost in fleeting encounter,
best wishes, Antonio

pajamas

my wife bought me pajamas
some wives do that you know
these i’ve had for a decade
and don’t like them, never did

they look like Polish clown pants
ok, so i’m of Polish blood
and i do clown around a bit
so . . .
. . . . hey, wait a minute
. . . . . cancel cancel
. . . they’re really not that bad

bad rainbow

my umbrella worked
wore it low like a hat
had a stick on it to hold on to,
was psychedelic in nature

the color was majorly blue, dark
ominous, but nice handle,
you had to own one like it
to understand

alone at the wooden table
a glass away from foul weather
i peer out disheartened,
where did my lousy umbrella go?

self satisfied

self satisfied are you?
i need your attention,
this is about you

when you feel you know,
when you have finally learned
that you’re not as smart
as you think you are

that very point is equivalent
to dawn in you,
the breaking open of daylight’s first rays,
the new beginning

don’t think about the afternoon
or days end as yet,
you still have a long way to go
until lunch time

Giancarlino Benedetti Corcos

hats off to Giancarlino
he did the floor tiles for a bar on the corner
this is a step for his ever changing face
in the art bowl

as he moves on in art
making a mess
turning in the tide
doing his part

while nibbling on the money bone
he’s having fun
and i respect him for that,
that and being a good person is what it’s all about

It’s what you figure out
and convey in your work
that will let everyone know
you are really a writer.