curiosity startled the cat
and made it look silly,
it didn’t really kill anything
Thursday, April 30, 2009
i remember her tattoo
the sparkling young woman with
the Carl’s Jr. happy star tattoo on her ankle
i haven’t seen again
or if i have i didn’t know
because it’s still cool and most likely
she’s still wearing socks
the Carl’s Jr. happy star tattoo on her ankle
i haven’t seen again
or if i have i didn’t know
because it’s still cool and most likely
she’s still wearing socks
zip zip
zip zip i was seven
zip zip i was twelve
zip zip i was twenty seven
zip zip i was sixty four
zip zip i was
zip zip i was twelve
zip zip i was twenty seven
zip zip i was sixty four
zip zip i was
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
dear Captain
dear Captain, take me along with you and Rafal,
let me board and sail on to foreign ports
let the compass spin as the great prop churns
mark it all on the cart as we make way
i’ll tow the line, skipper
eat well and hold tight on deck
sleep like a baby as the ship bounces around
though heavy storms will wind up, you won’t let us down
by whales, seagulls, and flying fish
until entry to the bay and the flat channel narrows
finally to port, at a long pier for tie up
there all will wave goodbye
let me board and sail on to foreign ports
let the compass spin as the great prop churns
mark it all on the cart as we make way
i’ll tow the line, skipper
eat well and hold tight on deck
sleep like a baby as the ship bounces around
though heavy storms will wind up, you won’t let us down
by whales, seagulls, and flying fish
until entry to the bay and the flat channel narrows
finally to port, at a long pier for tie up
there all will wave goodbye
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
rain in heaven
in heaven it will rain
from two until four
on alternate days
warm water only, and refreshing
you'll have an instant umbrella,
splatter won't matter
cause the socks you wear
will dry immediately
from two until four
on alternate days
warm water only, and refreshing
you'll have an instant umbrella,
splatter won't matter
cause the socks you wear
will dry immediately
Monday, April 27, 2009
The New Week
It is the Twenty First Century and we need to make some positive changes. There haven’t been any since October 4, 1582 when Pope Gregory XIII made the following day October 15, 1582. Maybe his rent was due, or it was his wife’s birthday and he didn’t have a present or she wanted to skip another birthday anyway.
Regardless, an international consortium of specialists has devised the following submission to pick the world up off it’s butt and set it on it’s ear. Those aren’t the technical terms they used, but it was the best I could remember; anyway, you get the idea.
the new week
Monday is a bit jarring
to start the week
let’s begin with Wednesday
when we’re already up to speed
then bring on Friday,
a feel good day
Tuesday and Thursdays
we can jam one after the other
and coast over them
then let Monday come last
if we can’t do away with it altogether
and put in a free day
so let it be written, so let it be done
Sunday, April 26, 2009
must be facing north
coffee at a table in the shade just steps off the tourists path
opposite the long tall blinding stone bone-sunny travertine
of the Cancelleria, with oh-hum traffic on the corner
i scratch out this crude note, having left
tender words of the novels home like lovers
tucked in together, sleeping on the shelf
i sip pondering my next goodbye to Rome
as already summer looms nigh,
with sycamore trees along the Tevere green full
the shadow over me shortens, afternoon sun moves west
this 25 April, Liberation Day, of little clamour
even thieves and beggars are on holiday
stirring my coffee i recall
time on the road with Italian actors
where at bars up and down all of Italy
most stirred their coffee for thirty seconds
so I learned to do as they
and now can smile remembering them
opposite the long tall blinding stone bone-sunny travertine
of the Cancelleria, with oh-hum traffic on the corner
i scratch out this crude note, having left
tender words of the novels home like lovers
tucked in together, sleeping on the shelf
i sip pondering my next goodbye to Rome
as already summer looms nigh,
with sycamore trees along the Tevere green full
the shadow over me shortens, afternoon sun moves west
this 25 April, Liberation Day, of little clamour
even thieves and beggars are on holiday
stirring my coffee i recall
time on the road with Italian actors
where at bars up and down all of Italy
most stirred their coffee for thirty seconds
so I learned to do as they
and now can smile remembering them
Saturday, April 25, 2009
market review
Call this - I told you so. Here's something posted on this site February 7, 2008, a few months before the dive.
market analysis
holy catfish the markets diving
and won’t come up for air
all your trouble is like a bubble
when it pops sit back and stare
no need to hurry if you want to worry
you’ve got the time to spare
but hold that frown, cause it’s going down
every stinking where
market analysis
holy catfish the markets diving
and won’t come up for air
all your trouble is like a bubble
when it pops sit back and stare
no need to hurry if you want to worry
you’ve got the time to spare
but hold that frown, cause it’s going down
every stinking where
a man desires
all a young man desires in a woman
is a good figure, some brains
an eager willingness to do all the washing,
shopping, cleaning and cooking
while being a total sex maniac on overdrive
oh, and did i say rich?
but now that i am older
it doesn’t matter anymore
just so we’re nice to each other
well, rich still would be good
is a good figure, some brains
an eager willingness to do all the washing,
shopping, cleaning and cooking
while being a total sex maniac on overdrive
oh, and did i say rich?
but now that i am older
it doesn’t matter anymore
just so we’re nice to each other
well, rich still would be good
Friday, April 24, 2009
Rome Welcome II.
My friend Rocco, who works two days a week in the administrative offices of the police department, told me that over the Easter holidays six hundred thefts were reported at the crowded Rome train station.
our friend’s vacation was scheduled
to last three weeks,
while crossing the ocean he
spent six days aboard ship in bed
not a world class lover,
wasn’t sea sick,
he had suffered a stroke
five minutes after arriving in Rome
he reached into his pocket where
four credit cards, a drivers license, reminders,
several permits, papers and
cards too important to carry
that should have been left at home
plus five hundred or more, in cash,
were all packed and gone
in his stolen wallet.
his passport remained safe in another pocket
even thieves only have two hands
we walked him around a few times
though nearly in a daze,
i think he enjoyed himself
three days later i helped him buy a ticket
then put him on a train
for the remainder of his scheduled vacation
to see his family in Switzerland
where his cousin had just died
two days before
our friend’s vacation was scheduled
to last three weeks,
while crossing the ocean he
spent six days aboard ship in bed
not a world class lover,
wasn’t sea sick,
he had suffered a stroke
five minutes after arriving in Rome
he reached into his pocket where
four credit cards, a drivers license, reminders,
several permits, papers and
cards too important to carry
that should have been left at home
plus five hundred or more, in cash,
were all packed and gone
in his stolen wallet.
his passport remained safe in another pocket
even thieves only have two hands
we walked him around a few times
though nearly in a daze,
i think he enjoyed himself
three days later i helped him buy a ticket
then put him on a train
for the remainder of his scheduled vacation
to see his family in Switzerland
where his cousin had just died
two days before
Thursday, April 23, 2009
two for the street
They started there about the time I first came to Rome.
Thirteen months ago I wrote about the two old ladies living on the corner in front of Rome’s train station. This winter one was gone. A weeks or so later, the other disappeared.
No doubt one had died and the survivor was taken weeping to an undisclosed location for the aged, derelict, and possibly mentally challenged, yet feisty.
Had twenty years on the street had done them in?
I.
winter was long and wet
the rainiest in two hundred years
so they said,
if you can believe their record keeping,
no one can contradict
for sure, everyone talked about the weather
II.
first came spring,
then the two old ladies were back again
with bags and market shopping cart
taking turns sleeping
on one of the busiest, noisiest, wind blown corners
in all of Rome
the very corner where 20 or thirty buses routes
and any of the cities six thousand taxis
turn to enter the train station to pick up passenger
thus providing
twenty-four hour traffic, stench and noise
and there, an arm’s length from the curb,
in blankets and rags do they camp,
together again on their home turf
using a bucket or the restrooms at the station,
one at a time, as needed,
the two bundled octogenarians
enduring, perhaps enjoying
the great out of doors
III.
sure they could have more
a better corner
by the sea,
an open field
or in the woods
but they took what was available
i think i should be happy for them
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
on the bus
a kid had the double front seat
he was ten, skinny and healthy
I asked for the seat and he sprung up
it’s good for him to learn now
the way of the world, how old people
impose their will on the young
anyway, he didn’t need that big seat
I’ve seen larger wrapped sandwiches,
fold the kid up and he could ride in a lunchbox
he was ten, skinny and healthy
I asked for the seat and he sprung up
it’s good for him to learn now
the way of the world, how old people
impose their will on the young
anyway, he didn’t need that big seat
I’ve seen larger wrapped sandwiches,
fold the kid up and he could ride in a lunchbox
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni
began studying early in life
carved the pieta age at 23,
the David at age 26
five hundred years later,
still marveling, fascinated,
we wait in line to see his work
occasionally deeds
done in the fire of youth
are honored for a long, long time
carved the pieta age at 23,
the David at age 26
five hundred years later,
still marveling, fascinated,
we wait in line to see his work
occasionally deeds
done in the fire of youth
are honored for a long, long time
Sunday, April 19, 2009
rome welcome
I’d like to tell you this is a love story, something fuzzy, warm and cuddly. Instead I’m kicking myself for his misfortune. It wasn't my fault. I tried to help. I'm just asking why don’t they understand that 20 years in the city has taught me things an outsider doesn’t know?.
For sure I told him to be careful. I know I did. It’s a given. After all, he was a new guy to the city, coming in to the train station for the first time. But what good was my telling him? How can someone digest the importance of everything heard in a transatlantic phone conversation, when there is the excitement of the trip to think about.
When I gave him my phone number he wrote that down. But who is going to write down the warning “watch out for thieves”?
rome welcome
a friend arrived in Italy by boat
on a luxurious sixteen day cruise
with six ports of call
to the final port an hour away
wanted to help every way i could
hell, everyone likes special treatment
offered to meet at the train
to kind of ease him into the city
this experienced world traveler
said he could easily get one block to the hotel
he was going to handle it,
would call when he got in
about the time I expected
the phone rang, he called to
tell me yes, he was in Rome and
his wallet was stolen at the train station
credit cards and about five hundred dollars
gone with the quick hands,
this is not the end of the short story,
he still has three weeks to go
For sure I told him to be careful. I know I did. It’s a given. After all, he was a new guy to the city, coming in to the train station for the first time. But what good was my telling him? How can someone digest the importance of everything heard in a transatlantic phone conversation, when there is the excitement of the trip to think about.
When I gave him my phone number he wrote that down. But who is going to write down the warning “watch out for thieves”?
rome welcome
a friend arrived in Italy by boat
on a luxurious sixteen day cruise
with six ports of call
to the final port an hour away
wanted to help every way i could
hell, everyone likes special treatment
offered to meet at the train
to kind of ease him into the city
this experienced world traveler
said he could easily get one block to the hotel
he was going to handle it,
would call when he got in
about the time I expected
the phone rang, he called to
tell me yes, he was in Rome and
his wallet was stolen at the train station
credit cards and about five hundred dollars
gone with the quick hands,
this is not the end of the short story,
he still has three weeks to go
Friday, April 17, 2009
mediterranean see me
I may change this a bit, but here it is for now. I can critique my poem and say I should stay on target. See the objective, figure out what it is I want to say, and which way the words have to go to get me there. Today I prefer to do as the crew of explorers and let myself hop on board and ride willing to participate. Letting the caravan take me wherever.
mediterranean see me
free this morning
we could get in the car
and drive five hours to a corner of heaven
for sure we’d love it
we’ve been there
with the long blue of the med,
hearing it from our bed
and the morning fishermen
in little boats
sun hats and coats
so near on dawn
so clear over calm
in a sleepy town
with Filippo’s Pizza
the best dough out of Napoli
they say, I’d say
anyway
how far do we have to go
so I can hear the shore’s chill water?
rolling stones like breathing in and out
making them rounder
smaller in long eons
until they are tiny white grains
lesser than sand
blown away like dust
off the back of my hand
thrown up by the wind
lifted straight to the sky
soaring above birds
blown riding the blue
far off out to sea
over storms
circling the globe
above the Captain’s stout grey ship on the Atlantic
twisting back into time and Grandmother’s wagon
crossing dry Arizona in the late eighteen hundreds
over arrows and Indians
then sucked tumbling down
deep in the California desert
none too soon
by dull light of moon
it's stuck deep
where it will keep
in the bark of a Joshua tree
that lives a thousand years
mediterranean see me
free this morning
we could get in the car
and drive five hours to a corner of heaven
for sure we’d love it
we’ve been there
with the long blue of the med,
hearing it from our bed
and the morning fishermen
in little boats
sun hats and coats
so near on dawn
so clear over calm
in a sleepy town
with Filippo’s Pizza
the best dough out of Napoli
they say, I’d say
anyway
how far do we have to go
so I can hear the shore’s chill water?
rolling stones like breathing in and out
making them rounder
smaller in long eons
until they are tiny white grains
lesser than sand
blown away like dust
off the back of my hand
thrown up by the wind
lifted straight to the sky
soaring above birds
blown riding the blue
far off out to sea
over storms
circling the globe
above the Captain’s stout grey ship on the Atlantic
twisting back into time and Grandmother’s wagon
crossing dry Arizona in the late eighteen hundreds
over arrows and Indians
then sucked tumbling down
deep in the California desert
none too soon
by dull light of moon
it's stuck deep
where it will keep
in the bark of a Joshua tree
that lives a thousand years
Thursday, April 16, 2009
jungle fish
you and i
haven’t seen it all
don’t say you have
don’t think about it
no need to
not all the world caresses
some hurts
and dumps upon us
in papers and magazines
the news of course, they call it that
the video, the Internet that brings pieces
bam banging slapping sounds
pumping games flashing colors into children's heads
Marshall McLuhan was right the medium is the message
now i add, TV did more to destroy the world than educate
I have seen Guatemalan jungle natives in see-through straw huts
watching far away New York soap operas
on TV powered by a noisy gas generator
the soap opera had NYC folk
in nice clothes and makeup
drinks in hand and the natives,
ready to throw a spear through a monkey,
were sitting women breast naked in
a rag covering their crotches
and I’m walking by their hut and
can look right through it
and see them sitting glazed over stuck to the screen.
maybe they flashed me the peace sign
and maybe I gave them the finger
cause they were screwed
media chunks show how people dress and hold their heads
how they clothe their pet animals
while city buses so full
those at the door exit to let others on
dead fish are laid to rest in tins and wait consumption this way
passing by are the rich and famous in their rings and finery
with guards tagging alongside
lest reality get too close
best they remain cushioned
aloof from commoners and dirt poor
on the street notices are
handed by strangers to strangers
pasted across shop windows
stuffed in trash cans or
dropped they litter the streets
are stepped upon, pushed along
where the head count clashes with
the clean, pressed white shirts and latest ties
and we, hats on backwards
in over sized sacky things to cover how fat we are
that resemble sports team garments,
wrinkled sweat stained bags with a bright bold number on it
the number of a hero on the squad
named for a predatory animal
as a sweaty tourist screams at the counter waitress
give me a coke before I die
and I see them sun glassed now
all the while quick stepping alone
bumping into each other
unaware, as if stoned
talking on cell phones
while the senseless talk to themselves
and need no phone
who is changing the world?
for all the while
the sun goes up
the sun goes down
haven’t seen it all
don’t say you have
don’t think about it
no need to
not all the world caresses
some hurts
and dumps upon us
in papers and magazines
the news of course, they call it that
the video, the Internet that brings pieces
bam banging slapping sounds
pumping games flashing colors into children's heads
Marshall McLuhan was right the medium is the message
now i add, TV did more to destroy the world than educate
I have seen Guatemalan jungle natives in see-through straw huts
watching far away New York soap operas
on TV powered by a noisy gas generator
the soap opera had NYC folk
in nice clothes and makeup
drinks in hand and the natives,
ready to throw a spear through a monkey,
were sitting women breast naked in
a rag covering their crotches
and I’m walking by their hut and
can look right through it
and see them sitting glazed over stuck to the screen.
maybe they flashed me the peace sign
and maybe I gave them the finger
cause they were screwed
media chunks show how people dress and hold their heads
how they clothe their pet animals
while city buses so full
those at the door exit to let others on
dead fish are laid to rest in tins and wait consumption this way
passing by are the rich and famous in their rings and finery
with guards tagging alongside
lest reality get too close
best they remain cushioned
aloof from commoners and dirt poor
on the street notices are
handed by strangers to strangers
pasted across shop windows
stuffed in trash cans or
dropped they litter the streets
are stepped upon, pushed along
where the head count clashes with
the clean, pressed white shirts and latest ties
and we, hats on backwards
in over sized sacky things to cover how fat we are
that resemble sports team garments,
wrinkled sweat stained bags with a bright bold number on it
the number of a hero on the squad
named for a predatory animal
as a sweaty tourist screams at the counter waitress
give me a coke before I die
and I see them sun glassed now
all the while quick stepping alone
bumping into each other
unaware, as if stoned
talking on cell phones
while the senseless talk to themselves
and need no phone
who is changing the world?
for all the while
the sun goes up
the sun goes down
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
reflections
remember someone holding
a dandelion under your chin
seeing the reflection of yellow
to determine if you like butter?
kid stuff
be good though
the day on your face
is a reflection of what you carry
in your heart
how you slept
how you’re eating
who you love
which dog you’re beating
how well you are doing
how life’s going
you may forget, but all
is written on your face
a dandelion under your chin
seeing the reflection of yellow
to determine if you like butter?
kid stuff
be good though
the day on your face
is a reflection of what you carry
in your heart
how you slept
how you’re eating
who you love
which dog you’re beating
how well you are doing
how life’s going
you may forget, but all
is written on your face
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
hope
On Pasquetta, Little Easter, the day after Easter, also a holiday because Italians have to have a holiday after a holiday that falls on Sunday so they can have a day to recover. That is how it is every time.
the large crowd in the piazza
generated a buzz like
flies on week old fish
they were tourists, few Italians
it was Little Easter, Pasquetta
Italians go out of Rome
on the little holiday after the holiday
Franco who has no means
to get out for the day
and no family to visit if he did
was in the store next to me
getting two more
scratch-off-to-see-if-you-win gambling cards
what winners get most of the time
more cards
more opportunity to hope
we stood shoulder to shoulder
he didn’t see me,
i noticed that what i thought
was a plug in his ear lobe
injured the last time he fell
was only a scab
from the way he was weaving
I knew not to speak to him
he was holiday drunk enough
to still walk
and scratch cards
while i’ve learned
there is no hope
here it was
standing next to me
the large crowd in the piazza
generated a buzz like
flies on week old fish
they were tourists, few Italians
it was Little Easter, Pasquetta
Italians go out of Rome
on the little holiday after the holiday
Franco who has no means
to get out for the day
and no family to visit if he did
was in the store next to me
getting two more
scratch-off-to-see-if-you-win gambling cards
what winners get most of the time
more cards
more opportunity to hope
we stood shoulder to shoulder
he didn’t see me,
i noticed that what i thought
was a plug in his ear lobe
injured the last time he fell
was only a scab
from the way he was weaving
I knew not to speak to him
he was holiday drunk enough
to still walk
and scratch cards
while i’ve learned
there is no hope
here it was
standing next to me
Monday, April 13, 2009
linked
we are linked to life
whether cabled-in or wireless
red lining in the fast lane
all comes naturally
as weather is to nature
dressed in style we are
in cars shinier and larger
while lousy poor people
obviously don’t care as much
they never go to club dinners
to hear the speakers drone on
or eat cake at the benefits
they don’t know the meaning of
acid indigestion
whether cabled-in or wireless
red lining in the fast lane
all comes naturally
as weather is to nature
dressed in style we are
in cars shinier and larger
while lousy poor people
obviously don’t care as much
they never go to club dinners
to hear the speakers drone on
or eat cake at the benefits
they don’t know the meaning of
acid indigestion
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