Thursday, August 22, 2019

water be

you know there's
waterbe fallin', wet all over.
greets me first thing in the morning
when looking out the window.

wet all over.
so that's the kind of day it is,
i'll get used to it.

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

mmmmn sweet corn

corn is golden
though color is secondary
when cob roasted...then
served with butter on,
and salt.


Tuesday, August 20, 2019

poems on the run/roast


at times i write them
want to hold them tight
not turn grey mice poems loose
out of the sock drawer

snap go now puppies on the run
out on their own
beyond my control
out of reach, out of sight

crossing the street
against the light
a lone drifter may find them
some blue dark still night

perhaps, and take comfort
then i guess it’s alright
the preceding has been noble, thus,
considering the source, largely untrue

so there goes nobility shit out the window
chasing my poems
what is left pass around
to you and you and you

it’s okay, Descartes wrote:
i think therefore i am
okay, i think i can
go along with that.



an some sonofapup drifter is liable
to catch my poems
cook them, debone 'em
or eat 'em alive

steps



needed front steps, not wood,
in our town it’s normal to call a cement contractor
that’s a guy who has a truck and pours cement
no problem, i’d call a guy, then another and another
the job to pour three steps was too small to be bothered with
they had big jobs, long driveways and whatever
that kept them from my three tiny steps

so i thought and thought - and thought of stone
okay, they wouldn’t come to pour cement,
our house was built in 1838, i’d get vintage stone steps

at the quarry the nice folks said they could do it,
cut Indiana Blue Sandstone that i selected, and deliver it,
set the stone down one , two, three, all i had to do
was provide the dimensions for three blocks i wanted, that was it

i had to prepare the ground, no one else would do it,
so i raked, then measured the first block,
the second had to fit back under the wood of the door,
the third had to be even with the inside floor.
one, two, three

for three weeks i planned. the first time I measured I thought I had it
a few days later i checked my figures and they were wrong, so i did it again
how simple, three blocks, one, two, three on top of each other, that’s it
it was many days to get it right.

on and on i figured stone dimensions, and finally i had it right.
the bottom block was largest,
the second and third were equally smaller.
it all would fit, everything was right.
the day they delivered the stone in a large truck with a crane,
they had one block cut wrong by two inches on one side.

i recalculated and told them how to put them down. one, two, three
in a half hour there were down and perfect,
you can’t see a cutting error.
now we have our three stone steps
the bottom, the second recessed under the Georgian doorway
the third level with the inside wood floor

come back in two hundred years
the house may be gone,
but the steps will be there

Sunday, August 18, 2019

jet lag

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