bees

jeeze, these big bees, boy
you should see them
buzz by
why they're big as my thumb
and don't even see me standing near
watching them gorge themselves
must get loaded on honey
when they stick their heads
in the flowers
for hours
jeeze oh pete

we lived on a boat

we lived on a boat
with our cat
and dreamed well
on gentle lapping water

smoothly rocking
to rhythms of the ripples
a boat passing in the channel
seagulls swoop and dive nearby

long rolling clouds and far stars
the moaning fog horn
then misty quiet dawn
softly beginning

so long bob evans

full of local folk
working hard to make some money
and stay ahead in the game
but, the Bobster is giving me
too much rock and roll for breakfast
keeping it loud, no matter how many times
i've asked him to turn it down

the manager likes it that way, you see
forty year old rock piped blasting
you have to speak up over breakfast
then chew weaving to the beat

run 'em in
run it out
eat it up
now run along

we ran along
to the older Star Diner,
they provide a media vacuum
no music or TV

the sounds you hear are customers talking
and theirs is local food
the way you'd do it
how we like it

now this morning, who did we see
eating at the next table
but Diana the sweet, elderly hostess from Bob Evan's
I said, hello Diana
and should have remembered to add
a paraphrase of her greeting
"Welcome to the Star Diner"

in wood times

in wood times i've spent walking
gathering colors, tasting sounds
by ferns, tall grass, and animals
under the forest canopy, making rounds

flushing pheasants as i go
they streak off in a line
then to stop, a place i know
amid green berries on the vine

wild white rolling clouds above
reflect the light, contrast the blue
in nature's time i touch the love
and symmetry by which things grew

the wind plays light and sweet
with mint and closer scents
honeysuckle and wildflower complete
the multicolored firmament

at a small creek bank i pause to drink
and there, witness life within
a small plant reaches water's brink
the shoots are young and thin

where hours pass i cannot say
the sun marks shadows on the land
little voices beg me to stay
i promise trees, i'll come again

a butter year's worth

with one pass
may as well run like a wagging dog
wild in joy in the wind
and do what you can
with what you've got

when i wrote songs
i spent too many hours repeating them
trying to hold all of them in my head
keeping the old ones familiar

getting poems right seems more to the point
i can work words back and forth
don't have to play them in a straight line
and when i'm done they stay there

then anyone can pick them up exactly
not like a song
that you have to play or listen to
beginning to end

words you can play with
then take them along in your head
that's packing light
even a whole butter year's worth

roots

a tai chi master said
he'd live well
in a small jail cell
with only a few feet of space
to exercise and be happy

good for him, if he gets arrested he can try
although i understand his intentions
it's not my slice of pie
but, there is a lesson in what he mentions

tai chi takes very little space
and is good exercise
head space is a comfort when filled
with tranquility, understanding and kindness

however, when i find mental peace
i can remain in that place
until i open this mouth on my face, then off i go
why can't i simplify my pace?

give it away to find peace
give all to love is the root

it is an effort to get to the roots
this is why you have to dig for them
not lie on the beach
and dust them off when you get up

21st Century Shopping

the superstore is a football field deep
and nearly as wide in the food department,
turning a corner to another aisle
i head him talking before i saw him
the man in the dark fine suit pants without jacket and tie
busily occupied and trying to look relaxed as he
fingered through cans of tomato sauce

he carried himself like a businessman who
regularly commanded authority,
on a cell phone asking questions,
getting instructions, searching

minutes later he passed hurriedly
and i heard the words "sour cream"
at the same time, behind me
a woman was rapidly talking into her cell phone
i knew they were not talking to each other

not to be outdone and remembering Dick Tracy
i bowed my head and spoke a few words into my sleeve
where my wristwatch would be
if i had one

half our brain

scientists say we're using half our brain
what half are you using?
the upper delta
or the lower mandella?

i wouldn't bet on it,
want to sleep on it?
oh, i made up that scientist part

now go drive in traffic
but watch out, will you!
a lot of them are riding on
the rims of their lower mandible

feeling down

yeah, okay so feeling down is depressing
but not so bad as repeated beanballs to the noggin,
when you realize we've all done it
up is the only way to go from there

you'll get by, this too shall pass
you won't make the record book
so turn the corner, get over it
hey, are these words of comfort, or what?

love in California

heart of steel
love is real
money in a vault
you know my ways
i love your ways

want to go
now you know
headlines all i read
you know my ways
i love your ways

one thing to warn you
there's love in California
oh, honey
you know my ways
and i love your ways

sand

elbows, butt and heels in the sand
neck bent upwards with face to the hazy sun
an occasional wave can reach me
my son in the sand can teach me
it's june and i'm having fun

birds picking trash in the wash
i'm following them walk the line the waves make
just watching in a half-cool light wind
as our sand castles crumble again
tuesday afternoon and there's nowhere i have to be

some other time, tomorrow and yesterday can't find me
i'm buried to my ankles in the sand
the waves repeat the ten thousand things
that, and the wind, makes my ers ring
jon is pointing, but i can't hear what he's saying

mowers of lawn

we drove south
saw long lawns and riding mowers
couldn't belive they don't plant
flowers and trees, make gathering areas

i use a Brill push mower
it's light and easy
what She doesn't plant
i mow quickly

no gas, no oil
start and stop when i want
take a break, work in pieces
i had a five dollar used push mower

but the gears wore out
fifty years will do it
wait and see, after fifty years
your gears will be worn

weed

i yanked a weed today
then She helped me

address the weed
become one with the weed

that's the only way you get them out of the ground
that was my lesson

in fifty thousand years the star people will say
She really knew how to do it

everything we are

as we read words of those gone,
now off in somewhere out of sight,
nothing is left of their times
only recorded shards remain

memories are slim fragments
that don't do justice to the fullness felt
when it was us, when we were then
all slips from present tense to nearly forgotten

history is nothing in this world
lessons standing only in the telling
anachronistic flickers
out of time, out of place

so as you move ahead each day
do pay attention to every moment
and do your best to make good ripples
in the changing seas of time

mini vacation

pack our wheels
got a map
all set now
hit the road

after some freeway
we're in the open
see the trees
barns, hills and fences

let's stop to eat
need gas, got to pee
there's a motel with a pool
this is far enough

sometimes just a
change of pasture
is all an animal needs
to be content

my daughter

such a little thing
one time we called her Squint Frumpy
less than one arm long
lying on her side
not quite asleep anymore
content in her world
now we call her Binky
my daughter

lamp light

street lamp light
at night
so bright
give me a break

it keeps me awake
if i want to read a book at home
i'll turn on my own light

these are neighborhood city lights
tax money is paying for the
overloud of illumination
pissing it away and masking the stars

street light
so bright
first lamp
i see tonight
i wish i may
i wish i might
have an axe
and chop you down

frog one-one

Hah! And you thought you were through with frogs. Look, even serious poets can go overboard. Here I am treading water. . .

Frog one-one

i got in the car
and drove to the shopping plaza
it was about empty and i was going slowly
driving in circles
in the parking lot
my brain was on overdrive

my turn signal on
it blinked, but i didn't
until i nearly ran out of gas
and then nearly cried when i realized it was true
cause i triple checked, twice
there was no store called
Frog Aid

i want to explain, dear reader
we saw them, well she pointed them out to me
now there are four
like a Sergio Leone movie
four, tall in the saddle
well, . . . in the pond

and she says they're the same four
"Which same?" i yelled

"Say that three times fast," she said
as she did it, "Which same, which same, which same."

i tried and couldn't do it
once i had to read a commercial for Misses Pauls Fish Sticks in L.A. at KBIG
and i finally turned it over to Dave the Slave in the midnight cave,
another announcer, cause i couldn't say fish sticks smoothly

"which same" gave me the same trouble
as fish sticks

but my gut feeling told me
these are all new guys
four hiding, sneaking frogs
lurking out there
waiting for sundown

i drove home, cause i knew what i had to do

"frog one one, may I help you," the voice said with authority

"That's what I want to know. There's four in the pond."

i heard him drop the phone

then, "Is anyone at home?" he asked.

"I'm calling from home."

"Get out of town!" he said.

"I'm on my way."

"No, I mean are you kidding?" he asked.

"Uh, . . . what part?"

dial tone

that was two hours ago
i've been back at the shopping plaza parking lot
driving in more circles
determined to find a
Frogs Are Us
. . . i need to make a donation

side note

did you plan well?
i know there's more than you expected
did life fall into place for you?

how it goes today,
what you are doing
is how you are spending your life
get used to it

i hope you're loving it

a small hometown parade

we had our hometown parade
this rolling cloudy, mostly sunny, humid, hot day
and, in no time, it has us
cheering them marching

there was a car blaring music for
miniature brightly costumed baton spinners
smiling snappy-proud as could be,
people from decorated flatbeds threw handfuls of candy,
big guys in customized '52 Chevy pickups waved,
our fire truck waltzed by and gave a siren blast,
candidates ran from their cars handing out campaign brochures,
the high school band played the spirited school song

my friend ran behind his house to roll up his car windows
the forecast said it would rain later
and then, as bagpipers strode by just starting Anchors Away
the sky opened with an instant deluge
pounding cannons of heavy downpour flooded the street,
candy washed down the drains

everyone ran laughing for shelter under trees and front porches
then two minutes later
the soaked ones continued happily on their warm sloppy trek
parades can't just stop,
and their rides home were a long drizzling walk away

what joy
God love 'em
for showing the best of what little towns are made of,
here's a day i'd gladly live again

psycho mom and me

figuring something out
is not easy
that's why it takes time
and why everyone hasn't done it at least once already
maybe no on has figured out anything yet
i suppose some are working on it

the tough thing is the question
what exactly are we supposed to be figuring out?
now i am speaking in vagaries here, not specifics
people do resolve minor problems
like how to fix something broken
or how to make a better toaster or hamburger cooker

but lets stay vague
vague is where we are, remember that
it's where we live when you take away
everything scheduled and programmed for us

now, life? course of action?
these sound like possibilities for specifics
that need resolution

years ago i wrote a few pages description of some answer
to resolve the question of
being in the present moment.
i typed it up and gave it to my mother
that was a hell of a stupid thing to do, i know,
but i had figured out life
and thought it'd be great to share it with my mom
so she'd have the answer and feel good too

i remember she just looked at what i gave her,
didn't care about or understand my explanation of what i
had written, and after she tried to read it
she had a questioning look on her face
i think she might have asked me if i was all right,
meaning, was i crazy

it is one thing to have a momentous transcendental thought
complete in your mind
and quite another to try to put it quickly into words on
paper for your mother, a woman who essentially didn't give
a shit
mom was not a thinker of what anyone would call heavy thoughts
she thought about what she was going to make Chester for dinner

at the time i was inspired by Ram Dass - aka Richard Alpert
and the stuff i gave her was about living in the present.
Be Here Now was his book and i had a recording of a lecture he gave
it was deep, he taught at Harvard and dropped a lot of acid
and smoked a lot of dope with Timothy Leary
my mom was a Canadian Club and water woman
and i know she had some fear of water, as in the lake
it all somehow relates to the way she thought,
how her mind processed material
"mow the yard"
that's how she thought
and that was a bit of a digression to this discussion
but, as mom would have done
i think i'll leave it at that

a penny from everyone

so what do you do with sixty million
do you go to the disco with paris hilton
wear your nice shoes and cool clothes
i mean, go where she goes
or, okay, maybe with her
yeah, then what do you do for an encore?

do you have eight wide, large-screen TVs all in a circle
and sit in the middle
spinning on a revolving chair
and eat popcorn
pulling it out'a your hair
and drink wine
watching all the time
with volumes all up to the max
until your ears ring?
hey, i'll drink to that, to all that stuff
until my ears ring too

i'm which chew, i am
chew, achew, ahchew
my God, i got the plague
how could that be
when i worked so hard for my money?
i'm dead

excuse me

excuse me, is this seat taken?
no, i mean this seat right here, is it taken?
wait are you joking or what?
well, why can't i see anyone sitting there?

to the restroom? how long ago?
what does she look like
i just wondered
say, did you report her missing?

well, maybe she's not coming back
did you think about that?
i am serious
the movie started and everyone's seated

did she drive, or does she have a friend?
now where are you going?
good luck . . . oh, since you;re leaving
can i have the rest of that popcorn?

in God's eye

in God's eye
in the universe
is the naked oneness of us each
me reflecting you
you reflecting me
playing life
from the center
up for love
down for fear
if you're alone
am i here?

what do you say

with all the pollen
and the breezes
what do you say
when somebody sneezes?

700 years ago
they said God bless you
to pray that person
didn't have the plague

if you move fast
you can keep out of the way
no one wants a blast
of that lousy spray

so when someone sneezes
why not just shout
hey, you
cut that shit out!

Okay, okay I made
a small error,
only one letter off
in the blog below,
but I'll leave it that way
ass a lesson to myself,
so let that be a lesson to you.

(i did that error for old time's sake)

hello Santiago

you did well to check her for galluses.
winter time - suspenders and i
go everywhere together

in warm weather i can do without
i can do without a lot of things in warm weather

this may be one of the top sites on the globe
in support of suspenders, braces or galluses
maybe
maybe not

a Captain

that man is a sailor
a Captain
there are very few like him, you know
he sits there now in his chair by the window
overlooking the sea, smoking his pipe
thinking about his days at sea
when waves tossed his ship about
and thrashed his crew against the rails
as rain and hurricane winds
fought to see who would be first
to dismember his ship

his eyes now smile in faint recollection
of Pacific ports
where natives gathered to look upon the face
that dared stand against the sea
and where young girls across a table listened
as he told tales of great adventures in unchartered waters
as together they sipped rough wines while slender
native fingers stroked his steal-gray beard

there were ports and storms
and brave men waiting his word
to set course for open waters
and other adventures

his face is firm as leather, yet kind
his hands, strong
her eyes, though old, yet speak with authority
and command the attention he has earned

he went to sea in his youth
and now, in old age, is satisfied to know
his dreams were fulfilled

that man is a sailor
a Captain
there are very few like him, you know

george wilson, artist

camel hair flowed under
wilson the captain
who, drinking contour
touched us all

a silver-tongued, lion hearted
could recall a mess of fish and clowns
whatever he painted
bare chested and sweating
lean, yet strong as a bronze whale
shared his good spirit
he did not know age was meant for man



for a fine artist and a friend from years ago

fourth of july

fourth of july i sat impatiently
on an eight foot skyrocket
while smoking a cigar
that i used to light my vehicle

i aimed for the moon and missed
just circled it twice
then bounced quickly in seattle
and landed under my couch

poetry blog

telling someone
i have a blog with poetry
is like saying i just bought a used
hearse from the funeral home
and i got it cheap cause it was in a wreck.

"oh, how nice. How many miles on it?
and are the seats always folded down?"

it's a conversation stopper
right to the bone
wanna go for a spin?

work

who can see work as beautiful?
those who have warmed to it
and love their profession

work well done is attached
to pride, satisfaction,
accomplishment and approval

it's doing what you do well
with comrades and acceptance
that is a pleasure life offers

how poets do

like accountants
poets work alone
grinding out word minutia
and are essentially worthless
except for what comfort they bring

they read a lot, enjoy the out of doors
often from a window
drink, smoke and unless someone cooks for them
eat lousy

are unaware of the time
yet, come early for appointments
choose to wear the same dull clothes and
sleep easily each night with untroubled minds

when at night i close my light
tuck myself in, covers to my chin
vivid dreams leap on me
and if the window is open
the wind will carry slow motion
under water blurry pictures directly into my head
that come alive in swirly drama

entertaining dream-rooted inventions of what could be
flash on an off as humming trucks roll on
through the night on distant blue highways
as heavy metal trains sound a mournful melting Doppler effected melody
calling hello to you, hello from me

awakened in the night
to listen for what is there
and what isn't
often getting up to write a line,
an idea to pursue before it evaporates,
then fall immediately back to deep sleep
like babies do, until morning

i admire other poets i have read
how they hop-thoughts on the pages
i know they do as i
for that is how it is done
alone in thought
one by one by one
for ages upon ages

let me slip-roll into sleep
for another jumbled, bumbled,
senseless journey
until i wake
but, not too early

sloop

a lengthy swift sloop at sail at sea
with half a breeze and half a sun as you man her
nowhere to go and no call to go
just time to set far back
look up to the tall sturdy mast
as nylon sails snap
to the occasional wind's lick

the ocean spits bits of spray
back and forth over the bow
with a gentle lift the shore is visible
then a recline and shore is gone
another lift and the long, low line of land is there again

no need for a shirt with warm air rushing over you
and your hair is twisted and thrown and dampened by spray
a red neck feels good and a tan face
makes it better to have lived this way
strong hands hold the ship to a meandering course
from nowhere
in particular
and back a gain

The Invisible Man

Does it happen to you or am I the only Invisible Man? Usually when it occurs I am next in line in a store and two or three other shoppers come in and the next thing I know they're in front of me getting waited on ahead of me. I must be invisible.

We went to Drug Mart and while she shopped I picked up an old car magazine, the big summer edition. On the way home I noticed the 5.98 price on the cover. Oh my, it wasn't a freebie!

I didn't really care about the magazine. I sat at home and looked at it, about fifty cents worth, and we went back to that mall for take-out Chinese food, so I took the magazine back to the store, put it on the shelf where I found it and left.

There were four employees nearby, not busy, not doing anything but talking, very close to that rack, but no one saw me either time. I have known it for many years but, still it is a strange feeling, for I am often invisible.

i can smell the ocean

i can smell the ocean from my chair
looking up, it isn't there
a peach ripens on the window sill
the clock's approaching quarter 'til

and as i pull the bag from my cup of tea
my mind takes me to places i'd like to be
here, magazines picture my vacation
while outside, birds make their migration

the mast will creak as my chair rocks,
i stir my tea as my ship docks,
with quill in hand, and love sublime,
i'll send this message out of time

corked and floating on ocean's crest
the letter drifts to islands west
at night, moonlight flashes the bottle glass
by day, the jumping dolphin pass

by sooner or later and seagulls
by lesses and greater in wind lulls
by storms and seasons
beyond all reasons

i put my feet up and think of beach
sip my tea, and eat my peach

the finger is the point

we zipped into the parking lot
she shut off the engine
cause she was doing the zipping

"did you see the cut on my finger?"

she extended her arm putting her
hand right in front of my face,
pointing at the large signs
out front of Meijer's Superstore
there were two of them
one read Why Pay More
and the other Photo Lab . . .

"look," she pointed harder
i was looking but i didn't know which one i should . . .

"the cut on my finger"

i looked where she was pointing but couldn't figure what
she was trying to tell me about her finger.
i glanced to see her finger had a little red mark like an
indentation but nothing that . . .

then she began talking about a new housing development
called The Preserve and she said if it was hers she'd call
it The Marmalade
that's when i got out of the car
still looking at the two signs and wondering

as she entered the store
i looked at my own finger
and held it up for her to see
if she'd only looked back

how can i best explain

how can i best explain
the trees and trails
the woods with clean water hills
that i knew in my youth

oh, somewhere there is a partial picture
that shows a wooded area
but it doesn't taste of seasons
it doesn't show the turtles in fall
the thin ice of winter
pollywogs in spring
or sassafras roots in summer

when we were ten we listened to the frogs
in the forgotten pond
we dug forts and swung on vines
walked over the creek on the trunk of fallen giants
our highway was an overgrown remnant of
the old street-car bed
we knew it well, re read it's signs
a garter snake, a portion of broken tie
the occasional bend

i may never mention it again
but hope some day to take you there

six feet deep and forty-nine years ago

funny how things work
forty-nine years ago
at the time i wrote my first poems
if i came to this spot
where this stage is now
in the amphitheater
i'd have been six feet deep
right under Main Street

back then i wrote
a booklet, thirty-three poems in three days
a rush job, i was a kid
beat poetry

words with rhyme
that go
sometime
or not
which is to be
of course
the other way

forty-nine years ago in the first freshman class
at the new high school
we were looking for the future
this was before the Beatles and the Rolling Stones

our house was over there next to the funeral home
and from standing in the middle of the street
i could see straight down to the light house

down by the track
that lone railroad building still standing
is where the telegrapher
Hiney Kensel worked
he always rode a bicycle

across from my house was the old town hall
with a small theater
opera stars and vaudeville teams performed there
1876, i saw that in stone every day

across the street was the post office, then the movie theater, The Ritz, McCormick's Insurance, Enderle's Foodliner
the bank where it is

the Eagles, the Reporter, the Edmar restaurant,
a used car lot, Dirk's Jewelers
Guenzenhauser's Department Store
old Anne Guenzenhauser drove that '35 model A coupe to work everyday

at 217 Main was the dairy
on special occasions i remember Carl Wechter
delivering milk with his old horse and wagon
right down Main Street

Duck Eggs, Hoppy, a lot of the locals with nick names
and Millicent Leib who led the cry
"Please don't tear down our town"

there was a poolhall across the street from Yaylie Lavoe's News Stand
an old timer told me
John Dillinger was in there playing pool
a few weeks before he was shot in Chicago

before the bypass and the turnpike
when vaudeville players like Jack Benny, George and Gracie and W.C. Fields
and baseball teams like the Red Sox with Ted Williams
and the Yankees with Mickey Mantle
drove from Detroit to Cleveland and beyond
they took this street right above us

the Knotty Pine Bar and the Three H Bar
there and there
and there, my dad's bar a block up from the church
they used to say we had more bars than churches

that same year - 1959
our town had it's sesquicentennial, that's a word we all learned
the 150th birthday of our town

Carl Kramp, the Chief of Police told Bill Swoppe
a happy-go-lucky fellow
that they kidded a lot
and who owned the bar next door to my dad's

"There is no place to keep the parading elephants,
so would you keep two small ones?"
they told him my dad would keep two of the larger ones
in his bar
so Swoppe said okay

they played it out a few days

then the Chief of Police was measuring Swoppe's door
and said they would have to cut part of the front wall
so the elephants would fit
Swoppe said, "no way"

the next day the Chief of Police
was measuring the doors of my dad's bar
and they said they'd have to cut the opening
for two large elephants to enter

Swoppe said, "Okay. If Chet is going to have elephants
you can cut my doors too. I'll keep elephants if he will."

in the end no doors were cut for elephants

we had our sesquicentennial parade
on a beautiful clear day

the big parade took three hours and fifteen minutes
with vintage vehicles, horses, wagons, fire trucks from all over
both our police cars, and both fire trucks- big red
and the old blue one
banners, marching bands, drill teams
and gaily costumed tap dancing
cadets, baton spinners
more fire trucks and police cars
plus honoraries, mayors and dignitaries from every village
and farm and orchard in Northern Ohio turning out,
several of the bands played John Philip Souza marches
and oh, how they marched
on and on they paraded,
yes, paraded, not rode,
but walking proudly
right down this street
into history

now from the start of my poetry
it's forty-nine years later
and six feet under
and here we all are
for better or worse
what's done is done
now let's move on to the future

so tell me
do times change
or don't they?

between here and there

between here and there on a lump
on a log, is a frog in a slump
in the dark, in a bog
waiting as the night goes by
holding his mouth open,
hoping for a fly

a little girl frog
sitting near, looking here
and there for a fly
for her friend,
crosses her knees,
smiles and winks at him

he sees her there and makes his noise
she laughs aloud, for she likes little boys,
he calls her near, she hops to him
they speak of ponds and bugs and mud
then she goes back again

back sitting, near, looking
here and there
for a fly for her friend
on a lump, in a bog,
waiting quietly, the happy pair,
just a little between here and there


The form on this one is a bit different as I wrote it for my kids entertainment exactly twenty years ago today, and that would really be an amazing coincidence, but it's not true. I don't know what day of the week or year I wrote it. I'm approximating, and hopefully entertaining. This all came about from Tomc's comment yesterday. I just talked with my daughter and she said it was more like thirty years ago I wrote that one.

frog vision

desiring to do it right
i didn't want to gamble
training these new frogs
M. said they are the same frogs

i don't know how she's so damn sure
for one thing they're bigger
she said they grow like a tomato
maybe she means they soak up rain like a sponge

anyhow, M. reads quite a bit, like a sponge
so i asked her about f rog vision
is it 20-20
she thought a second
then said: 50-50

well, i put an eye chart out there
it floats
they lie on it
and seem to like it
i'd grade them high
for floatability

their vision is still a question
so even if they grow and
could reach the pedals
i don't think they're ready
for the keys to the car

on the Internet it says they can see clearly
for about six inches
if they can't see any better than that
i'm going to quit waving at 'em

roof

instead of chatting squirrels
and the flutter of nesting birds
half awake over coffee i sat
listening to a tap, tap, tap
like a school for shoemakers
and raise my eyes to
look out the window

where, an apple pitch away,
a bunch of young men
with shirts off in the sun
make back and forth up-high shadows
working, replacing the neighbor's roof

now then, here we are
with an event like this
nearly worth half a column
in the thin local newspaper
that comes out every Thursday

lunch out

a small place for lunch
two small room with four TVs
on four different stations

what gives?
are they helping us think
or afraid we'll try it alone

TV

the invention to
educate the world
is making puppets of us
turn it off

if you are not a viewer
look around, you'll agree with
this assessment of the situation
no need for further explanation


Six billion people in the world. You'd think I could find a way to get more than three of them to read a few lines of poetry, but I guess the tube keeps many folks busy. There are 1.4 billion with access to the internet, so a lot of folks are not able to browse the net. And English is not the universal language.
About TV: We were hiking a path in a jungle portion of Guatemala twenty years ago and came upon a tiny village with ten or fifteen straw huts. One had a gas powered generator with the blue light of a TV playing. As we walked by we were looking right through the straw walls and could see people inside watching a soap opera from New York City. That was a memorable and incongruous jungle experience. What are we serving the world?

when i was a kid

when i was a kid and stamps were a nickel
i thought i could get rich
if everyone in the world
sent me a penny

now with six billion people
a penny a piece would net sixty million
i could buy two cars with that
and a couple new suits

take a trip to Hawaii
stay at a nice hotel
eat a good meal, go to a movie
then come home and mow the lawn

You can run, but you can not hide. I was going to call this poem Money Bloggin' and work it around that way, but it turned out to be about how even with wealth your responsibilities remain, so i did the easy, old standard way of using the first line as the name of the poem. In this case it is a poor title, but i was rushing and here it is.

frogathon

set up a cool draft, juliano
yeah i'll tell you why i look so beat
it isn't easy, see
there's two new faces on the street

have to approach 'em careful like
start training frogs all over again
you think it's fun? hah!
just when i had those three that split sorted out

and these two are cool, so i'll have to take it slow
let 'em know how it is around here
they were playing hide and seek
and now on the third day they're hangin' out

a minute ago i was out there
we were checking each other out
wait and see, wait and see
here's for the beer, juliano, keep the change

one holy

one holy, totally dark night
when the crickets stopped
as wind gave out and chilly dew grew
under billowing clouds that moved low
i turned the lights down, then sat up to wait

not the car, nor the plants, nor the house
budged. air and matter, visible and unseen
were at one and waiting with me, quite still.
any picture, an motion would be conjecture
and there were none of these happening now

no music played, no words were spoken
the magic place was space unbroken
a motionless dance sans time unfolded
between eternity's alpha and omega
perfection and illusion smiled through me

perfection and the illusion of time

I'd just come in from the pond area where a couple of strangers are hiding out. M. had seen the migrant frogs in a brief scuffle this morning, diving, hiding and rushing through the flowers around the pond. Up to something.
Now I'll get along with today's poem.


you had to be there
to appreciate ten a.m.

when the bird clock chirped
a white-throated sparrow song

the coo-coo clock wooden bird came out
sang and then slammed the door

my grandparent's Seth Thomas chimed

the old wind-up on the metal fireplace mantle
gong-sounded the hour

the time illusion
had smiled for me

each part

each part of our planet
has a rhythm and theme
in Ohio it the seasons
incredible

winters frozen dead stiff
until spring begins anew
growing quickly from nothings
thrives in summer through harvests
fall is golden multicolored patterns
winter dead again, and so it spins

it is beyond man's abilities to
invent such magnificence
a sole creator came up with the idea?
it is a large complicated thought

i see why Greeks, Roman's and others
thought it took the efforts of a team
it is so much like a dream
life is but a dream
gently, gently down the drain . . . stream, i mean stream

Sad Day at Raintree

I posted a photograph yesterday and today it appears it should have been a wanted poster.

set a cold one up for me, Juliano
i have a sad story to tell you
and tell Jose to keep stumin' that guitar in the background

this was a tough day in Raintree
it began with last night's powerful downpour
now it looks like my partners all run
hit the highway, or the driveway
done sparkin' evidently
all three

this morning it looked
as if someone had sprayed the pond
with Frog-Be-Gone

as Juliano turned away
i said into my beer
"too bad fish don't have legs"

globalization

Globalization will do away with choice
one burger, one car, one house
nothing to decide, why should we complain?
it's less expensive to make it all the same

And why should it stop? with stem cell technology
one dog: part cat, part fish, part chicken
when you're done playing with it and teaching it tricks
you can eat it

five of us

five of us were there

each doing his or her best

three frogs sat unafraid

on opposing rocks

sunning north, south and west

around the pond

nearby meri was weeding

while i sat quietly reading

in the shade

we all stayed

to the end

none of us hopped away

above is a photo of one of us

sunday went for a

went for a traditional country breakfast
fifteen car miles
out in the Midwestern Rurals
very, very

pancakes and a lot of overweight people very, very
were there
in pairs, mostly
the cakes you can get individually

but many people
very, very
don't want to eat alone
the place, about empty when we got there
and by the time we left was packed
very, very

inside on the featured wall of the restaurant
is a grand colorful alter built to honor a son in the military
complete with a fireplace mantle
rather like a holiday theme
(this was June, and ok, that was made for a winter holiday, Christmas or Thanksgiving - but they had it the way they wanted it, so why mess with it, and it'll be winter again before you know it )
streaming yellow ribbons
two large photos of the lad and his family
and centered above it all
scribed on a large ornate plaque
the name, Sonny Boy

yellow ribbons - 1966 song by Tony Orlando and Dawn
Sonny Boy - America's first million seller - heard in the first talkie motion picture, Al Jolson 1928,

bon appetit

a big boat is in

there used to be ore boats
that came off Lake Erie
all the way into our little harbor
polite soldiers that dumped red iron ore
did an about-face and left
but times have changed
ore docks are gone

now a large vessel will creep silently into the mouth of our little river
dock alongside the plant
bringing lime stone to crush into dust
it pulls straight in
happy tugs help

just a low, town block away from us
the ships blast their horn
usually after midnight

so close, what a set of thermo explosive lungs,
the bellow splits the heavens
echoes into buildings, over roof tops
bouncing in low gargantuan, profound - window, wall and shelf shaking tones
as if the beast of New York harbor has come to roost here in Pumpkinville

so thunderous the call to people
who walk or drive down to see
(Hear Me! I am in your harbor!))
and we don't ever have to pay extra
for the excitement
to stand quivering
there on the river side
waiting in awe of the giant, breathless
as if it could pounce and eat us all

it unloads
then slips away
the monster is gone

traces of us

can you find what was
when we were here
on this earth?
what did we do
that remains?
did we make a dent?
and did you learn from our mistakes
or is it forgotten?

george carlin

i did try, but
never knew him in Hollywood
cause he wasn't looking for writers in '75
he wrote his own
(and rolled his own?)
made us think and laugh
clowns are fun
i believe he had a good heart metaphorically
although the one in his body was kinda crappy
he was 71

maybe we are

maybe we are
the last to know
nature

did you pave it,
fence and gate it?
put up lights and cameras
and toll takers

those a few hundred years ago
drank clear water from the streams
blinked and are gone now forever

yellow dog

run good fellow
yelp and twist the day away
in a hurry
going sideways
looking back and ahead
leaping for a bug
that flies too low
out of my way
where to go
a drink
and it slobbers
down your chin
long tongue
flapping
curl up and napping now
you old yellow dog

Sacred Mushroom

Long ago there was a coffee house that turned jazz bar on Saturday nights. This is a tribute to that wonderful place and to those that frequented the Sacred Mushroom.

there was just a night
under the light at the
bottom of the Sacred Mushroom
or many such that i recall

a place where every face
could music smell and taste
under dim lights on many nights
down stairs at the Mushroom

Warren tooled a Gretch
and cool Jimmie was there to fetch
whatever anyone was needing
beneath the street, the Mushroom

the sound was around the walls
and steady in jazz time
a lasting grace note falls
against this heart of mine

dark and turtlenecks prevailed
backed up by a drummer's beat
or trumpets sadly wailed
through the night, beneath the street

coming, going through the night
to play the king, or just a pawn
and Warren held them very tight
as oceans sang and night slipped on

when trombones went into a case
when piano became a yawn
i left the place, behind the bass
on foggy Sundays, right at dawn

continuing

in flashes of spaces i see
life continuing in a game on another level
sort of an eternal corporate promotion
into a mathematical position
with which we are not as yet familiar

the springer that sprung
need i say more
i just read a letter from my Auntie Dorthy
who mentioned Broken Arrow, Oklahoma
that's a little more immediate
at least i can get there from here

lonesome train

sorting from cardboard boxes
not much to pack
last look around, a check of the time
then closing the door
locking sadness within

going home before the weather changes
the fields . . . he liked the rain
there's time to reflect
while watching dark clouds out the window

heavy steel rolls hard and smooth
and before the long night is through
i may see the moon
glide over town, yes
soon, real soon

a guy with an apron, a little blue hat
and a smile comes pushing a cart
down the isle
selling coffee and water
the same guy a half hour ago
was selling sandwiches

roses bloom in the rain
love is the same
nothing ventured, nothing gained
you can say that again
watching it rain

i hear her sweet laugh
while handing me a photograph
the moon rising through the glass
reflects on her behalf

she's painted and she's pretty
pressed against the window pane
the lady from Kansas City
takes my mind off everything
she can ride with me any time
on any old lonesome train

a party

once we went to a party in Roma
a well to do neighborly affair
on a lovely terrace and view of the city
we met a young man there
just returned that day
from somewhere deep in Africa

he was a missionary and a hunter
on his way back to England
to raise money before going back
Hunting Rhinos for Christ
was what he called his campaign
and he was serious
i don't know how it came out
we never heard from him again

rain soaked and lovin' it

it was late afternoon
the tires screeched when i skipped to a stop.
rain soaked her wet as a rag as soon as she got out.
the second i felt the door slam and the car rock
she had already run to the office and disappeared
where it read "women's wellness center"

with the motor on and the heater purring like
a little kitten i was soon
nodding to the syncopation of the thunder with
the beat of the wipers kinda getting into this pitter-pat of the never ending rain
inside she was shaking him down," come on, candy man, i'm here
instead of getting my hair done so why don't you reach into that
bag of tricks and give me a sample of something to take the edge off."

five minutes later she was back in the car and told me, "let's go."
i edged out between headlights into the rainy night and headed toward the bridge
with a glance at her face in the rear view mirror i could see she had eased up a bit

just to be polite and make a little conversation i asked how it went
she gave one of those curled lip devil-may-care sneers, chuckled and then pointed with her chin, looking straight ahead
"step on it," she said

great blue heron - scout

a moment after dawn
out back in my laboratory
alongside the pond
i was examining four table legs

one was longer and needed to be trimmed, when
movement under the old sugar maple caught my attention
thirty feet away there in a crouch
the great blue heron stealthfully, slowly looked about

remaining still as the giant i watched through the glass
from behind closed door for nearly a minute
until he shuttered, spread his wings, rose in the air and fled the scene
with the only remaining disturbance being the knowledge of his presence

Note: The entire ten by fourteen foot pond has a "deer net" suspended two and a half feet over it and seems to protect the fish while allowing the frogs to come and go. On the posted picture of the heron from an earlier visit, notice the lily pads for size reference. They are about the size of pancakes. And when the heron lifts his head and stretches his neck he is about twice as tall.

be on the lookout
for this bird!

definitive relativity

i wondered aloud how those frogs
could be floating in the pond one moment
look up, and then instantly
leap atop a rock well above the water

hearing me,
in less than a heart beat
she gave the reply,
"they're superhuman"
and you know, she's right

so next time you're on your way
to the voting booth
consider the candidate's potential
and remember where we are
in the grand scheme of things

(vote green)

Design

Man is designed well.
Sleep and he is recharged.
Like dogs and cats
And doesn't have to be plugged in.
There are a few i'l like to.

frog news - newsroom update

for Tom C. and one or two other people in the world who are wondering.


FLASH: this just in from ohio

meri saw three small frogs
sitting in or around the pond
where we like to see 'em

all apparently happy
we're happy
are you happy?

a chance it may rain again tonight
we'll be watching the driveway
for runaways or new arrivals

b.c. and counting

a dozen years before Christ
what year did everyone think it was?
they didn't walk around saying it's twelve before zero
and they must have had a New Years
so what year did they celebrate?

in five b.c. if you told someone you'd pay them the money you owed in four b.c.
they'd squint, scratch, then club your head

what did they do when they had to fill out an official form
and write down the year of birth?
"you wrote you were born in minus 36
how did you figure that?
that'll cost you three shiny stones and a chunk of obsidian for being a wise ass"

all ok

the heron is gone
all the fish are there
so is the frog
and the net is back over the pond

frog count

we chased a blue heron out of the pond
and now are waiting to see if he got the frog

there were five
then three
then one
we are sad

tune up

crazy free
i am you
sun makes me smile
like you do

know true that i say
all the best to you
cause i surely mean it
over my tea
out the window

life is always changing
stick around
sun goes up
sun goes down

gate 77

three sisters: Dracula Rabbit,
Saggy Eyes and Long Forehead
sat opposite me, mauling gum
in long open mouth cow-cud chews

i don't wear a watch
there was not a clock visible, so i watched them
for a long, long while
fascinated by their down trodden bland unity
in which not a word was spoken

then deciding what to do i cleared my throat
prior to giving them
an important tip
they simultaneously looked to me

leaning forward so our faces
nearly touched lip to lip to lip to lip
i whispered to those three
calmly waiting a plane to arrive
"you have to boogie to stay alive"

this june morning

at dawn this june morning
i awoke lazily to faint scents
reminiscent of long agos
i hadn't known for years

in the shower the splash and smell
brought to mind those other times
and how it used to feel in humid air
at the start of summer here

on the road to hand-over- fist big money for poetry

once i wrote to hallmark
in Kansas City
and told them i'd like to be a poet
they thought that was fine
but had one already
wouldn't you know it

walk-in sunday breakfast

looking for an art show
in a small out of the way community
the morning was already hot
that town was the wrong one for an art festival
but clean and bright, and per usual
our good luck ran true

we saw the hand-made sign for the
the American Legion breakfast
set up and waiting
local folks invited us in
for good food
served quietly and easily
ceiling fans turned slowly overhead

we took our time
enjoyed pancakes and all
once again hitting it right
perfect altogether

like something out of the Ohio past
where folks are plain folk
and the cooking home done
they thanked us, we thanked them
and were glad we'd come

ninety in the shade

ninety degrees in the shade
the heat has started soon
a soaker day awash in humidity
can we play another tune?

but the frogs are eating well
they waller and wait and sing
it must be swell down where they dwell
if you're partial to this sort of thing

ninety degrees in the shade again
with heat full bloom by noon
humidity heavy, naturally
and to think it's only june

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

baking soda

while cutting hot serrano peppers for soup
she also cut her finger
not for the soup, it just happened

the soup was good but her finger burned
painfully hot because she
had worked it around in pepper juice

eating with on hand
she kept her irritated hand
in a kettle of water on the table

water didn't help and it looked novel
i didn't ask her to pass anything

later she found relief
by rubbing it with baking soda

the next evening i used my fingers to sprinkle
ground chili peppers on my food, then rubbed my eye
i was going blind or die trying

she told me - put baking soda on it, baking soda
i considered putting my head in a plastic bag
with baking soda in it
instead i rinsed my eye with water and it worked
or i would have tried soda pop

she knew the time

to discover for yourself
is usually best
to hear it told
one does not believe it

there was one girl
a friend of mine
always and ever
she knew the time

when we were kids
i somehow found out
time was one thing
she knew about

she knew the moment
to start for school
how long the chicken baked
and when to remove the cookies from the oven

she looked quite ordinary
as appearances count
her grades were just average
so teachers did not suspect

never tardy for a class
nor late for supper
or tuned in late for a favorite tv show
she ran the clock for high school basketballs games

if she rose before the end of class
then the bell was off
she woke precisely at six
without alarm or other tricks

she knew the time
when to shower
and the hour when to dine
the minute too soon
and the second too late
remember the time we did that?
"yes, 9:15 in fact!"

when she was grown
and on her own
many were the hours
she spent alone
for appointments she was never late

she knew each minute
and the seconds in it
a gift or a curse
for better or for worse

new year's eve when others
watched the times square ball
she didn't have to look at all

alas she died at 32
yet still i'm sure she knew ahead
at which hour they would find her dead

precious junk

my precious junk is all mine
and it's senseless to get rid of it
no one wants these accumulated pseudo treasures
and i sure as hell won't have a sale so some knucklehead
can wander up, scratch their fat butt and ask,
will you take a dollar for it?
get the hell out of here!
i 'm keeping it all, every bit
living with it and loving it
Silas Marner was on to something

when i'm dead let who ever is left deal with it
sell it or dig a ditch and throw it in
but for now, these keep sakes are memories of a lifetime
i am surrounded by the clutter
so i must love it all
where it is
lined up and piled high
i'll walk around it when i have to
once in a while i notice something in particular, smile and wonder
what is it and where in the hell did that come from?
when i am gone and they have to sift through all this crap
they'll say with pride
at least he never collected Beanie Babies

frog countin'

5 or 2 to 4
like the old Chicago song 25 or 6 to 4
only i'm talkin' green now

frog counting is difficult under the best of situations
there were five
remember big frog? he was a grinner
then it rained
and then there were two

a day passed and we counted three
another day or rain and we go to four
big frog hit the highway
no doubt about it
mating season for the big guy

the young ones that remain probably were born in the pond
and have another year to go before they take wings
so we have four cuties
(two may be a courtin'
they're always sitting together)

duck

I'm working here. This is new font. I figure this year we have a work in progress. If I can make it work, I'll keep it, but I might have to switch to a regular site so a particular entry can be more easily found. The other day I was searching for something I had written January fifteenth. It took a long time to find it. If I could put things in alphabetically . . . ah well, we'll see what happens.
The following entry is a bit serious, but isn't life.


a short walk from where we now live
i got to a spot that reminded me
my older brother used to hunt ducks
right here when he was young
here by this tree
now it's practically in the middle of town

he took me out hunting once
to a marsh somewhere
he knew where to go
for some reason a few ducks flew in
shortly after we got there
came low right over us
it was an ambush

yelled at me to get it, shoot it, get it
shoot! shoot!
and i shot

blew that sucker to smithereens
saw it explode, tumble and drop dead
practically at my feet
it took the full force of the shotgun blast right in the chest
i heard the thump when it hit the earth
the mallard wasn't pretty anymore
laying there it looked like a wadded up rag

and i knew that was it for me
i'm sorry it happened
and would never do it again

after college i joined the navy
cause i was going to get drafted
and went in enlisted
didn't want to be an officer
was afraid i'd like it
i led the choir in boot camp
and worked as a journalist for four years
still play the piano
guns aren't for me

in a rose bush

in a rose bush up the side
of our house is a nest
where a robin sits on eggs

the other adult returns
passes food to the sitter
as the soon to be family

takes turns warming the eggs
discouraging blackbird invaders
while waiting for the children

south river

with just enough clearing in the brush
to make it to the river's edge
i sit by the water
thinking of son and daughter
and, my, how they grew

it could be june, at least it's warm
and this tired old rowboat is mine
to paddle a little way from shore
to drift away into time gone before
i feel the sun on my back

as the tiny water bugs circle
small animals and insects move in the thicket
and with nothing that matters
my every new thought scatters
it sure is a nice sunny day

i played at this place before
saw carp jump and ducks fly over
in this land i knew most of
i'm now just a ghost of
old memories on south river

a shoulder to cry on

a shoulder to cry on
i saw that and thought how beautiful
oh wow

then, send me the pillow you dream on
and while you're at it
i could also use a dozen eggs

just pack everything in a box
make sure it doesn't get all crushed
you'll have to deliver it yourself

cause if you mail it
our mailman will drop it a few times
and kick it all over the lawn

then that'll be the end of
our true love story

each day

learn more and work diligently
avoid haste and waste
stay calm

live in honor
give and accept compliments
stay fit

peace is the way
love is the answer
in truth you survive

pond 3

the pond is an irregular ten by fourteen feet
i put it in about ten years ago
it must be getting ripe

the fish are happy
they number about 20
they go under the lily pads and plants
in the middle of the deep end

the five frogs seem content
five? what is happening?
big frog sat in the middle
four smaller frogs hung around the sides

last year big Herb liked
the sound of my push mower
and often accompanied my mowing
"herb, herb, herb"
that's how he got his name
the call sounds like the
pluck of a loose banjo string

ohio has 15 frog species
ours are the family ranidae
and they look like uh, kinda green frogs with some yellow?

they travel in the rain
big storm coming in tonight
and unless they can dig under the wooden fence
they must be using the driveway

skip rope song

went with mary to the country
the sun was shining there
then down behind the cow barn
for a little dairy air

one for each of us

she told me
to get out
one of each for both of us
i looked over my shoulder at her
wondered if she were kidding

three vitamins bottles
six pills
this is easy
two pills from each bottle
maybe this poem is already over

i picked up the first bottle
and tried to remember when i first opened a pill bottle
maybe i was reading comics then
and got distracted

when did they start these funny tops?
isn't the fact it is a pill bottle enough?
do they have to make the bottles tricky to open?
can't parents put pill bottles
where kids can't get them?
what happened to "no"?

oh, yeah
i was countin' pills
one for each of us
i mean, one from each bottle
make that two from each bottle
don't confuse me

done

morse code

in the days when i was a
ham radio operator i liked
the Morse Code best and spent my time
sending and receiving dots and dashes

send out a call to anyone who
was standing by out there
and someone replies
then a conversation began

some hams used big rigs
large antennas and fifteen hundred watts of power
or illegally more and could shake passing car windows
mine was the basic unit
a light bulbs worth of power

from Northern California i talked to
Antarctica with my one hundred watts
once i made contact with a guy in Philadelphia
who was using a rain gutter as an antenna
and ten watts of power

it's strange that you know
if you like the other person
just as quickly as when
talking to a stranger face to face
there is never any doubt
you get along with the other, or don't
not by what they say, just by
how they send the dots and dashes



Of course, even poets have a point of view, and as
with Morse Code, you can read the person in there
cause we can't hide ourselves, although we think we do.

meri cut the grass

meri cut the grass then worked
in her garden while i sat
on the stone step
and watched some
drinking a soda pop

she does good work
sweats some, and i am ready
to hop right up and help her
but then the heat is telling me to watch a bit more
just then the library calls

kim said they have a book
for meri and i, it sounded like a trick
so i asked if it was one book
she laughed and said no
so then it is books we have!

i happily replied i'd do something about that
she told me there was no rush
we have until next monday, so i sat back down
thinking - now, today is only wednesday
of course we'd be in before next monday

did she think we'd come running
or was she being kind
or is that what they do at the library
call people on the telephone?
well, hats off to everybody!

wind's work

who watches the wind's work
sorting through a row of bushes
plucking dry leaves
i do
follow the swirl
see the swath as it's winding

there are indicators for life
signs that point the direction to follow
pathfinder

a something on the sidewalk
where is the tiny cause for concern
overlooked in haste?

a trip on the stairs
a dab of sleeve and mustard
an offhand thought turned remark
the song on the radio
how do accidents happen?

mark your words as they go by
point into the wind
stay alert and be keen to listen

don't save up for life
like rain in a bucket for water on a fire

the setup is now while the joke
may be years down the road
don't forget to laugh when the time comes

dust on the counter
a veiled layer of disuse
clues are a sidestep
to the rhythms of life

get up

609, 611, 614 a.m.
how many times i've seen
those same red numbers
day after day
what do you know, what do you say
it is an abrupt start from dream
to dawn on another day

what does it all mean?
that is the question of all time
look around, it is the same
familiar, home, sweet . . .
as i stretch out of bed
shake the cob webs outta my head
waking slowly
getting showered and dressed i catch
a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wonder
should i cut my hair or let it grow?

what is this stuff
do i really like dry cereal making noises
make a note: why doesn't it play music?
now, what do i need to take with
oh, don't forget my keys
then, out the door
wait, did i lock it?
i did

three peas

three peas balanced
on the blade of a butter knife
one is you
one is me
one is eternity

thunder in the pass

yonder there's a net
over the pond
much of it
elevated a few feet
waving just enough and
flashin' like a star

so, long before sundown
blue heron came flappin' in
sauntered right alongside
lookin' for trouble

caught him gazin' round over the rocks
like they was tombstones
but he twitched, got nervous
didn't like the looks of it
then up and left town

big frog is there
sitting on the side
on a rock above the water
puffed up on a lotta pride
kinda grinnin'
and the fish are swimming again
feeling safe
practically dancing

peace has been restored
just plain yup

a bite

of poems
i thought a thousand would do
though time has passed
i'm still not through

i could load you up
pour out my treasured best
you'd be stacked high in aces
with too much to digest

one at a time is better
so if you stumble through and snatch a few
that'll do
like the bird that occasionally
flies in an open window
who should have paid more attention
to catching insects
may find something to nibble
if he doesn't panic
and the cat doesn't find him first

perhaps some other day
there'll be a thought right for you
not too much, a line or two
even a bird flying with mouth open
is hoping, and sometimes catches a few

poetry lesson

on poetry
know the rules
there are no other rules

start writing and then finish
or just do part
then do some more later

editing is importance
sews spelling
an rhymes good

whether you start each line
with big or small letters
is to the authors perverse discretion
so i heard
but you hear a lot of contradiction

now go for the throat
oh, and read what you wrote
too cheek four ears

i found it useful to title poems
with names coming from the heart
so as they stack up
you can still tell them apart

justice on the pond

the fish have stayed low
for several days now
afraid of something
blue herons on the prowl
maybe ten fish are gone
so i bought a net
covered the pond
no more will they get

now i worry about the frogs
maybe they're gone
but rain comes in two days
i've got to raise the net
i want everyone safe
and frogs travel in the rain
pond stuff takes time
but peace i'll maintain

a walk to the pier

stroll north and we've reached the lake
with a chill breeze blowing in
it's a good day to have a jacket and your collar up
humidity i was born with
it is either a familiar comfort hanging in the air
or i'm just used to it

we have a long stone pier
the fishermen use it
they say it's a mile long
i don't know, it could be
in rome i told robert how long it is
and he looked very suprised
the pier is something we take for granted

part way out used to be a range light on a tower
it was torn down when they fixed the pier
added a lot of cement to it
i was just limestone blocks before
when we used to swim out there
only the seagulls are still around

it's the local custom to walk the pier
at least halfway, as far as the blockhouse
so, come on, i'll take you out there
see how the fishermen and women are doing
they're out there sitting and waiting
that looks to be the most of what they do
and hopefully catching a keeper once in a while

a guy moves around to look in his tackle box
and then check his poles
patiently sitting in the open is what they do
that's the sport, i suppose

these two have lanterns and blankets
looks like they've been here all night
hooking perch, walleye or catfish

the suns out now
the wind is lighter
and it getting warmer
we've had our walk