dawn poem

 

near june dawn
one damp
brown leather foot
after another
crept through the woods
to a lake and canoe
where two
set off as few would do
to pursue the climbing amber sun
 not yet in view
and jumping swimming fish
 deep in the blue
the deer and bear and birds

what they saw
no one knew

a walk to piazza Navona

a walk to piazza Navona

sun is shining on the carnival crowd

regulars and newbies free long  last;

rush about without sense or purpose

without the very cold and rain

snow too we’ve seen

quite enough,  for this is Roma

imperial city of old

worn and tattered

repair the holes in the street again

though not until they’re too large to walk around

oh, the sky is clear blue and bright this time

buy  a piece of this place for a lot of loot,

then rent it out

parents will pay so their children can

drink and party the nights away

and we’ll come back again

be it in sun and rain or moon

to see  the fountains and work of countless artisans

from and for ages beyond measure

three m's and me in city life

dear reader i want to help you.

there are three m’s in this story

my m,  friend maria and chinese maria3

there.  you’re ready.   simple as can be.

seated  in  our Chinese restaurant

m. can immerse to a point

she tells me as I wonder

what point is that?

maria arrived moving slowly

we greet as she sits gingerly

having fallen in the shower last week

and whacked well  her ribs for real.

maria 3 came to hear

about the mishap, pen in hand,

and to take our orders, no mystery there,

for us it is the usual.

at this point i mentioned the man

who lives on folded cardboard boxes

down in front of the pharmacy

on busy Corso  Vittorio

saw him watering  the tiny plants

springing up in the cracks on the sidewalk.

this is the city, where you tend your garden

 where  you find it.  

we talk, ate and depart.

then gather on  the outside.

to the man selling umbrellas

we show him ours,  as all notice rain had passed.

                                 

that’s 3 m’s, lunch and me

and briefly raining weather

no confusion,  call it a Sunday

wrapped and packed together

i've painted so many

i’ve painted so many

Ohio wants boats and light houses

Roma likes loose abstraction

while i’ve maintained post impressionism

leaning away in style

cause i am free and growing

reaching with my brushes

seeking to find

consistent in my stretch

for another thing

even i never knew

and may not get to

a summer festival banner weekend

a summer festival  banner weekend

for small farmer apple town Ohio

when curious regular folk and their cousins neighbors

turn out, see ‘em,  lining up and down the way.

have a meal, spin the wheel,

try a share of homemade pie , amid the chattering.

an sample some of yesterday,  here today.

and be sure to view  old tractors on parade,

rolling clean and well buffed like everyone.

she pours me a bit of homemade  lemonade.

go ahead sun, shine, while kids crank that ice cream ready,

and, life, we’ve  got it made. oh, yes,  we’ve got it made.

doing something well takes time

to do well may be easy

but always takes time

do a thousand times

with care and attention

that ’ll learn ya

and might get some mention

art is

first you get the turkey,

 take him for a long walk, shake his hand,

wack  his head off, cook him at three- fifty

or  thereabouts,  bones an’ all

a long, long time.

leave ‘em dry  outside  on the picnic table in the sun,

many suns and moons.

 take notes or will I have to repeat myself?

then  come back in like twelve years

make sure it’s like twelve years, think dozen.

take any bones you find or pieces thereof

and stack it or ‘em.  the process is

kinda like  how you  bake a cake from scratch

only if you pile it nice you call it art.   

pretty slick.  got it?

don ‘t try to eat anything, it’ll make you sick;

art is for looking and to have feelings about.

suffer and benefit

is the name

of my would-be book of poems

not leaves, Walt,

not leave of anything  –  no way.

mine leaves  the hard part

your too is two and to

learn what  is next

do it (i don’t get it)

so there is pain,

what’s new about that?

now let me see

where was I . . . at?

oh, yeah,  been there.

perfect fit,  benefit.

all  life is tinkering:

a work in progress.