Saturday, September 28, 2019

plain day

cherry pie and vanilla ice cream,
what's what i remember of lunch.
coffee too, that's it. that additional thing;
black coffee, no cream no sugar.

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

dry september

half-hour drive into the sun rise,
light traffic on the road.
found our slot in the lot behind the restaurant.
a breath of wind, calm autumn.

took a table along the back side.
place full up, yet easy going.
course we started with coffee.
slid into wednesday morning.

pancakes and eggs over,
rye toast and butter.
she did the driving,
picked up eggs at Planktown.


Monday, September 23, 2019

the way of rain


we're in a gap, a dry spell.
comes as a surprise, not thinking about it,
it's pouring or not.
then we simply forget and it dries up, hot.

i'd rather walk or drive in the country.
i know it'll be wet again soon.
that was yesterday, this morning i woke to wet all over,
light, clean, cool, it's raining.

Saturday, September 21, 2019

make a line


if you have a parking lot
park all the yellow cars together,
see who notices and asks you why.
if we worked hard we could put together a load of ideas.

stack cars on top of others.
based on heaven knows what,
meaning: i can't figure how to do it.
one hand can hold your hair back.

start there, think what you like.
get a menu, you can pick and chose.
i'm looking around to see
what can be found.

there is one thing to say,
shake it out, dust it off.
next, we're on the border-line.
don't want to keep you waiting.

someone said  kind words about this writing
i'm grateful. i'll sit a while without a sound
taking time, it appears i'm thinking.
you're looking fine.  is that a distraction?

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

drag on


ok, so, for all who support me,
can you make toast, eh?

falling leaves in colors orange to red.
is that the order? does it matter?
this morning the sun is sparkling in my eye,
feeling good, warming. festive, practically.

and sipping coffee, thinking toast...
how about you...how you doing?
good morning...always a good start on the day.
what do you say, going my way?

i read some poems and was fascinated
by the thinking, or the ways i'm led
by what is said by word thinkers - writers.

some putting poems in their heads,
reciting to others...crash poems.
a bag full. i can only imagine, or listen
or read them.  a speed zone full.

hey, with sun in my eye i prefer
a slow hill climb, to the top,
taking it easy, geting my fill that a way.
taking time to think about it.

Monday, September 16, 2019

mr. safety town



mr. safety town i am.
but, let her drive anyway;
put my arm out for extra signal.
it 's fun riding with bare feet on the dash.

noise void


nothing hardly,
windows open,
no sounds in utter quiet.
old house to us blank empty,
barely anything,
sleep on mats,
clean echoes, zero to hear.
two street lamps across the street
shine all night on us
in our cottage in the woods.
why the lights?

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Thursday, September 03, 2009

apple cake

from a peg on the wall she took up
her worn canvas bag by the shoulder strap
said come on, we’re going to pick apples
near the corner across the street in the empty lot

there’s a neglected, half dragging to the ground,
poorly shaped, unremarkable old tree
not worth a glance,
and loaded with apples

we ate one to sample
half red, half yellow, a little strange to look at
but fresh off the tree
it was some old variety

forgotten, unattended and delicious apples
she filled the sack with a dozen or so
when she said she had enough,
we walked home

late that afternoon, after other tasks
by September sun streaming into the kitchen
she made an apple upside down cake
augmenting a vintage recipe found on the Internet

an hour after dinner
we each had a piece
of the best apple cake
i ever had tasted in my life




It would be too easy for M. and I to eat the whole thing, so I took the rest to my brother’s family. For us, there is always tomorrow.

the heights

Monday, September 21, 2009

to the heights

to the Heights, a country small town
nearby, yet aloof from modern ways
where farmers and country survive
and some of their kids go away to school in the cities
take jobs, live afar and return now and then
for holidays, alternate years

their folks stay on
in touch with the soil
clean, neat and country casual for a Sunday
standing tall as they can
walking leaning, a bit slower

these remaining have been small town friendly for years
know the families, names from long ago
and can recall some of the faces
now under the headstones
on the treed lofty knoll

there is a chicken barbeque today
at this conservation club
no telling what they are conserving
kindness and good will for sure

the building is set back on a large area in an otherwise field
the road in waggers as if the guys who dragged it out
changed their minds two or three times before
they settled on how to get from here to there

and the twenty or thirty cars already there
were parked in the field over a few acres
like dominoes thrown out of a box
and where they landed is where they sat
independent parkers they are

this yearly event we’ve been waiting for
three hundred tickets were sold they say
the money raised will keep the group going
about thirty folks there at the start when we were
maybe fifty
half again that number just neighborly helping out
i didn't try to count, they were spread out nicely

rear double doors were open to the beginning
of the green and rust colored stick crackling woods
in mild temperatures and near idle breeze
on the cusp of another change
summer to fall

had covered long tables, sturdy folding chairs
set with plenty space between to walk
and clean silverware, no plastic for
these folk of dirt, cast iron, seed and steel

the building’s maintained in good repair
someday they’ll pave straighten that winding road in
or sell the whole damn chuck to a developer, if and when

barbequed chicken was the draw today
and these hens were as large as small dogs
and twicet as tasty as you could ever imagine

spoke with old Reece, one of the volunteers
heard he deeded his downtown brick building
the decorative grey century one on Main
resplendent with curiosities and used books
to the local historical society

our common friend dick, who visited us in Rome
will be coming soon, here’s where he was raised
with a smile on his face and mud in his toes

today's group was quiet well mannered
stayed on the business of eating
and getting to the desert table
in no rush orderly fashion

i had a slice of crispy near warm apple pie
made from experience by Aldean
as she stood alone by her kitchen window
taking care and good intentions
thinking of her family while using well hewn skill
that would’a made her mother proud

after we did the deed on the chicken
during which time we made new acquaintances
and refreshed old ones
we waved goodbyes and moved on
out the door and beyond
into our own tomorrow

Thursday, September 24, 2009

i am Wicks, i'll be your server tonight

well, Wicks, hi, i’d shake hands but
obviously, you’re moving too fast
i’m jack, but i’d prefer you call me grandpa
no one else does

well they do once in a while
but they live a half a planet away
grandpa jack is what they say, but
plain grandpa is more enduring don’t you think

my grandparents lived thirty minutes away
but people didn’t drive as much back then
a half century ago, one i’d see one once a year
the other i’d see Christmas and Easter

anyway, doesn’t matter to anyone now does it.
say, my sister Nita taught me to drive
when i was eleven in her old Oldsmobile on Rye Beach Road
i’ll have to ask her if she was married then

parts of the story are unraveling
and half the cast have gone away
i’ll look into that, gone away stuff,
someday, won’t we all

listen, Wax, you don’t mind if
i keep talking to you, do you?
not out loud, in my head, think talk like
blink if you can hear me

Monday, September 09, 2019

all to say


mom, your baby boy is old and crippled.
sitting on the porch when the mailman came,
heard the lid on the box close;
said hi but no reply,

talk too softly usually.

i told m, she got the mail from the box on the gate.
that's my poem for today,
full up, emptied out, all i had to say.

Friday, September 06, 2019

fred's in sausalito

how many do you want?
we knew the system.
the waitress drew on the order pad.
one circle for each pancake ordered.

weekends they came a long way
to order circles.
we walked a short distance
to order our circles.

Thursday, September 05, 2019

sun over all

average starting day.
a nothing special time of the week.
a period of hours from
sun to sun, of this i speak.
pressure added, atypical.
look. there is sun.
warming. totally wonderful.
sun full of wonder.
oh, yes.
all you do is look around.

Tuesday, September 03, 2019

a trip

so soon it seems
to be back again,
it is called a trip
to the dentist.
hear me now: the guy is smooth.

Sunday, September 01, 2019

August 1

First day thinking cold.
The season has rolled over.

Saturday, August 31, 2019

calm

turning to fall, calm and grey.
a quiet day.

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

raining


it's raining drops heavy as rocks,
solid drum beats on the roof,
haven't heard tapping like that for a while;
rain enough to slow traffic.
the bubbling puddles come alive.

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

new post

don't know what day it is,
not the date or day of the week.
i can guess, and miss by a mile.
it's not important to me.
this is all good news.
now i can get paint out
and capture what i see in color.
sounds good, but won't happen.
here is where i will note the day,
in thought and words...okay.
they say it may thunder,
i hope it does; that's the kind of scary interruption i like.

Monday, August 26, 2019

song writer


seeing a song written out, music and words, is like seeing handwriting:
no matter how you feel about the song, when written down
you can gather a feeling for the writer.


paul mcartney, ned washington, paul simon, you and me.


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

Saturday, August 17, 2019

zipping

like a dog in a car
riding face first
hanging halfway out the window
what a highway we’re zipping

on a ball sailing through space
throttle to the floor
don’t need a pedigree
any mutt can do it

this is big fun
i wanna do it
my cheeks are flapping
hey, is anybody steering?

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

early america

went back
to a corner in america,
checked it out a few days.
how different to go there,
was like another country.
so quiet; with more trees than automobiles.
silence the way it used to be.

back then,
shorty after the united states was found
the population leaped in number.
they wanted more room.

the first town in the country's western expansion
is Marietta, on the Ohio River.
across from West Virginia.
so may trees all around.

we went through the old village and cemetery.
in the center saw the ancient Indian mound.
then rode a paddle wheeler to an island,
where we took a wagon drawn by two horses.
deer in a field stood still, looked back at us.
stopped in two museums.

the trip took us back in time.
many workers wore costumes of the past.
in all,  it was a good trip, different;
a good time
on a hot august day.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

italian holiday


Ferragusto, a public holiday. Introduced by Gaius Octavius 'Augustus'
after his victory over Mark Antony at the Battle of Actium on 2 September, 31 BC.

time to escape the heat,
anywhere you can go;
at the mountains, lakes or seaside.
it'll be a long weekend celebration or most of august.
friends and family gather
for the Italian mid-August summer holiday
with music, food, wine, and joy.
in the hills, on farms, in villages...
summer's celebration.
Don't you love it.

Monday, August 12, 2019

light summer rain


driving easy through light summer rain,
refreshing fields and flowers.

Saturday, August 10, 2019

chi

Quiet, easy.
Move with the sun.

Friday, August 09, 2019

the team

young and old together, excited talking fans standing ready
for the gates to open,
soon to be electrified by the game;
a double-header.

at last gates open...the crowd comes apart.
we burst in en masse.

our seats are good,
we overlook the diamond and field,
so do the rest of 38 thousand
Cleveland Indianites.

we are the fans, we cheer.
a fight until the end, both ends.
our team is victorious - twice.

from the shire


look and see, anonymous commented,
and there must be a group,
because they claim to be starting a
"new scheme in our community." those words caught my attention. it seems my writing has "performed a formidable process." does that seem right to you? now their entire community, i don't know how large it is, will probably be grateful. later someone will conclude success evidently. what does this mean? give me a simple happy face with birds in the breeze on wing gliding o'er the lake.

Monday, August 05, 2019

bobber


Lenovo i've had five years,
open it everyday
and didn't know the name of this computer.
call it Becky...or Bob.
no, bob sounds too much like
fishing things in the water,
called a bobber. i more or less googled that.
that's me and fishing, don't know to call bobbers.

breakfast in Shelby, in celebration of not being there a week.
the first string working today, all okay.
Mandy 2 did our coffee, Mandy 1 took the order
and delivered.

sky is good, weather fine.
heading home, down the line
a young Mennonite in long
dress and bonnet on a bicycle,
pulled happy kid in a wagon
who calmly looked around
comfortably taking in the position
he was in on a light breeze, sunny,
warm august morning.

he'll learn different things, different ways,
but won't know the name of my computer either.
please may he have a pond and a bobber.





***
i know: some are capitalized
later i may determine what is important

Or quit worrying about it.


Sunday, August 04, 2019

Why my phone rings

Hello.

Hi, this is Holly Jones from the prophecy department.

Say what? 

Hi, this is Holly Jones from the prophecy department.

You called me for something...a reason?

hmmm, packed

so much to read.
it is a pleasure
to absorb what others write;
of course, the volume is tremendous
i can't keep up. it's outa sight.

reading is enjoyable.
i'll take a few drops;

although now i'll pause
to think of ice cream, perhaps
take action, a few spoons full.

remember earlier we fought cold,
persistent showers, near freezing, wet;
now the time is baseball and ice cream.
so enjoy yourself.
coming up in a few weeks
will be sweet corn.
ah, the changing seasons.

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

car over


I have seven empty eyeglass cases on the counter in the other room. The glasses are here and there. One pair I am wearing. A new pair will arrive Friday or Saturday. She told me to throw away the old empty cases. I'm thinking about it, not overly or seriously.
Let me correct that: six cases...I counted.
This paragraph is a chapter in
Taking Care of Counting.
However, nothing was thrown away or accomplished.
everyday i sing a song for you, meri sweetheart.
now you see i'm being tested for my head workings;
wow, they can do a new reworking.
a shortcut to happiness, soon as i get plugged in.
they can, but they won't;
probably it's too dangerous.
i fabricated that anyway, they can't make me better
by plugging me into their wall socket.

ok, now; going to see the Cleveland Indians.
then, doctor/wise, real testing...the type done to old people.

if you have insurance get on board.
i would not pay for it out of my pocket.
ballgame first, then next day doctoring,
so close, driving wise.

wait all winter for warmer days
to drift the river
taking the turns and straights,
going nowhere in particular,
what summer is for.
we can think so,
and remember, love, the Pleiades,
there is nothing brighter.

would like to take the bright stars in from the Pacific.
so where is my boat now?

Monday, July 29, 2019

ohio roading

big sign for a bump in the road...
what they don't tell...on a scale from 1 to ten.
.
a swing left Around a tractor.

then saw a house on a lake on the highway.
.
going easy;
stopped at a hand painted sign
in Sullivan for a chicken dinner.
they said now it's hot dogs and hamburgers...
chicken starts at four o'clock.
got back in the car and started for home.

Monday, July 22, 2019

rain steady on

the weather seems steady.
we have rain again,
it's not the rolly, fat cloud, stormy kind we had for a month.
this is rain regular, thank you.
.
other parts of the country may be filling up soggy.
we're handling it. it's running off, somehow.
our fields aren't puddles
but i wouldn't want to run a tractor in it..

i'm listening to myself
thinking that i'm not talking about
faces i see on the city streets of Rome.
for the lack of those daily familiars  my heart aches.

Saturday, July 20, 2019

hot yes

thickated, the time of year.
plants are full, leaves are all out.
carrying wads of green
more than you've seen
for a while,
oh, full summertime.






Thursday, July 18, 2019

on an elevator

to the next person on a crowded elevator he says,
“Hey, a couple of lifetimes ago we were
both Indians and we used to hunt together.”
the person he had spoken to glanced over and said,
“Are you talking to me?”

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

geese around these parts


the large black and white Canadian geese know their own reflection in the lake.
would vent their wings to find me if they knew i had corn...a handful in my pocket.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

found stones

nearly time for the show,
things to do...to be a participant.
checked all shelves and drawers,
every pocket. 
then got 'em, to my relief they turned up,
found the tickets. good looking tickets.
made with care.
time was short, had to leave now.
hummed a tune to myself all the way.
when i got to the exhibit
filed in with the rest, in order.
line kept moving.
yes, very crowded.
at the show looked with pleasure.
partly sunny, cool, light wind, and comfortable.
stones on the beach
are well shaped, softly colored,
attractive to spellbinding.
now the tough part:
long ago i heard, though it's wild, you don't take
rocks away from anywhere,
leave them where they are.

Monday, July 15, 2019

doing life

how are we?
working hard, sleeping well,
eating right, exercising?
make a list.
keep in line.
oh...enjoy life.

Saturday, July 13, 2019

folded mountain

a beer from Rochester, New York is what i'm talking about here.
first time i heard of it.
the beer. i heard of Rochester.
the beer is called folded mountain.
not surprised. they had to come up with a name for the beer...could have been happy mountain.
5.8 percent alcohol.  got that?
okay, so, it's a hot day.
went to the porch.
sat in the shade.
sipped in the shade. ole'
drank my beer...most of it.
wanted a smoke,
thought of it; it's been a month.
so give me a break.
oh, i'll get over it...again.

Thursday, July 11, 2019

space

postal worker
drove by today.
leaving nothing.
thus creating
space.

go warm Sunday
who turned up the heat?


Wednesday, July 10, 2019

turn to good weather

sunshine roars in,
working on golden sweet corn,
also readying, heavy, juicy water melons.
you know the kind.
 then on a twelve hour from Boston drive,
hug hi niece, hello eat next day go,
she's three more hours to Indiana.
 while here awhile, all kept rolling.
hiya summertime some, been watching for you, and enjoy what a season, thankful for all we are. 

Monday, July 08, 2019

chill dawn

chill dawn
on the road to shiloh.
a violet, rose haze,
with blue on edges of far fields.

1844 carved on the stone house on a rise.
other old homes
blanketed in vinyl.
all barns red, newly covered in looks like tin.

there's no balloon on earth
like the fiery red sun
rising in all her glory,
marking the start of new day


...
This last set of four lines I wrote so long ago.  I can't locate the original text, and I see there is a problem...I want to get it right. now the "marking the start of new day" has the meter.

Sunday, July 07, 2019

growing corn


you drive along
then park in the lot by the fence;
so you can get out and walk the field
feel the heat doing a burn
it's how you learn
what a sunny day feels like doing a job
right now on the cob.
waving in the wind, getting tall.
the corn is coming up i see,
now you can bet there'll be an ear for me,
i'm getting ready, going home,
fetch butter and salt...that's all i need.
what summer's all about.

Saturday, July 06, 2019

quaking

a 7. quake in California,
50 miles in a line to our mountain land
where we lived when we married.
the shake would have had our attention.
now thinking of Jerry in his grave by our cabin
i'm sure made a joke before he cried.





Friday, July 05, 2019

do not lose your head, yet

Shakespeare today
a three hour play,
measure for measure,
in wilting hot weather
with windows open.
am i thee not kidding,
or am i? or am i?
a whamie...off with his...
at times culture is needed

a shake at wendy's may save me.

Thursday, July 04, 2019

ole, ole

chickens and the cows don't mind,
if you're the kind
to have eggnog on the fourth of July

ole. get it going, buttercup,
every time, it'll be fine. ole, ole
hold the line, Zabaione
happy holiday.

i think of eggnog,
for my Italian friends,
call it what it is: Zabaione, oh yeah. ole.


Zabaione: the thought
that will not go away

Tuesday, July 02, 2019

your dad

got hot here.
ninety-two road melting
degrees...and humid.
indoors is cool air fine

how is your living going?
are you still the head dog? 
Meri told me the term today.  
Alpha Dog. yeah. there you are.

and she has a bunny in her garden now.
it is eating the purple plant, 
larkspur, expendable; but i'm
sure it'll develop new appetites.

thought to write you
something...but i
forgot what
but not you.

we got 68 mpg with our 2017 KIA Nero today. 
wanna spread the word. don't see their advertising.
got 58 mpg on the second half of a thirty mile trip.  
the air conditioner took the mileage down.

you made me smile
and you didn't do anything.
see how easy...
love your dad

Sunday, June 30, 2019

the game

game begins, this is major league baseball;
right away it's 2-0, 
then 3-0, made me flinch.
end of first inning, it's 4-0.
the game just started.

end of the second inning,
the pace picked up,
8-0.
went to bed.

woke for a final listen on the radio, 
seventh inning, 9-0
really, really went to bed.

woke game over, heard it ended: 13-0
stains one's impression of the home team, 
the good guys.

is the feeling everlasting?
how could it be...it isn't even July.
fall is the big time,
and always, always there is hope again next season.

cancel, cancel
second game the following day against the same bottom ranked 
Baltimore Oriels and our hometown heroes lose again  
by the identical score 13 - zero. 

but i write more. these are the golden boys of summer who two years ago in 2017 won a record setting 22 games in a row.

now Rocky Colavito is touring with his book. in 1959 when i was 14 and routing for him he was Cleveland's outfielder and hit an amazing four home runs in one game.

gee the seasons change,
yet they do go on.


Friday, June 28, 2019

let us

lettuce tastes good;
can add the high point
one a sunny hot lunch day,
meant on a sunny,
there a difference
is well enough,
when in soaring high temps,
shell we, by the sea say?
yes, lettuce. pretty well.
is swell. swell enough.
day's hot. what we've got.
out of space, outer space.
lettuce taste.
brakes on. brake is on.
bake is on.

Thursday, June 27, 2019

summer regular

creep along the road
by the fields of wheat;
rained the other day,
wasn't it neat.

hot, yeah, turn up the heat,
cook your brains a while,
then smile, smile, smile.
we loves ya, doll-baby.

i'll take summer regular
the way i do recall,
a light wind, we had rain.
now...not at all, not at all.

Sunday, June 23, 2019

sunday now

sky is mostly blue,
good to see it for a change.
weather is drying, first time in a while.

what i know about farming is nothing.
i can only read reports in the news,
already a day old when i write it.

will some farmers plant today...i can't say.
i read they need, desperately need a few days dry weather.
they'll see what's ready...when it is.

i'm able to read reports and hope the best
for them, for fields, for us.
planting is serious and farming is a gamble.

Friday, June 21, 2019

farmer

long hours 
confronting and enduring
powerful, shifting challenges;
this year persistent and excessive rain
during planting season
in order to produce food for
where and when it is needed.
this is the accepted duty and obligation 
of the farmer. fear not, for he is tough 
and suited for the job.

Thursday, June 20, 2019

how about the river

a couple of lines
to do with the river,
right downtown;
flowing in,  moving out to the lake...
standing there looking at it.
warm weather for sure,
the light house in the background,
why not let the fog horn sound.
i know a clear day is better,
the fog horn gets your attention.
how about testing it​?
that happened only once in a while.
it sounded louder without the fog too.
wet air makes the air thicker.
takes an edge off the horn.
when they test it you want to jump
because that fog horn comes blasting.
one shot, it works. go back to peaceful.
a good day for all.
okay, enough for the river and the lake too.
now you can just think about it.

water

one fourth of India residents 
have drinking water at home. 
in some areas a family gets 
eight to ten gallons a day. 
American households use 
three hundred gallons a day. 
India grows more populous, 
hotter and dryer; is running 
out of water.

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

summer for


wait all winter for warmer weather
to drift the river
find water ways,
taking the turns and straights
going up steam in
light wind, clear sky,
the boat and i,
what summer is for
no need for more
and to dream and splash
amid jumping fish and gulls,
any summer night.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

flying

woke out of dream,
peaceful, serene.
the house is calm, so am i.
an award to robins: last to sleep, first to wake.
my pet birds are outside,
their wings shake,
fending for themselves,
free flying...flying

Monday, June 17, 2019

seasons

for native americans
names differentiate each  month.
Algonquin tribes saw the june moon
time to harvest strawberries.
in various parts of Europe it is
the honey, rose and mead moon.
overall, intervals of time tracked
independently of one another.
Zuni Indians of New Mexico named the first six moons,
the remainder are called by colors associated with
the four cardinal directions;
thinkers in tribes, as did white man,
invented systems much complicated,
listened, observed the nighttime sky,
sat quietly by fires, smoked pipes,
fed sticks to the embers...
and seasons passed.

Sunday, June 16, 2019

the rose

watch it everyday,
summer on the way.
sweet rose on the vine,
flower so divine.

splash

i remember the dive
we called the canon ball.
off the pier we'd go.
yelling all the way down.
what summers were for.
one of us made the greatest splash.
yeah, we had fun in competition
splashtacular.

Saturday, June 15, 2019

water down

got up, made my bed, 
showered soapy, water, rinse.
as i parted my head, my hair in the middle,
over my shoulder the electronic calendar read,
clearly a synthetic voice said: "congratulations,
you've made it to another Saturday;
coincidentally, a free rolling weekend,
absolute-mentally disengaged,
with liberty and justice for many,
and ten straight days of rain forecast." What?
"with no humps or little boats in the stream;
thought it best to get it out of the way and tell you clean,
going to rain, keep raining. rain some more.
which size oars do you wish?
for sure keep going and
float to the right."


Friday, June 14, 2019

creek

flows the creek in constant motion,
smooth ripples ferry to the ocean

Thursday, June 13, 2019

seconds before sundown

river gulls soar toward the lake
crossing low overhead as last low rays
flash white bellies and orange beaks
golden in the final light of setting sun.

the picture in these words nab the blink and sheen
of a few seconds gliding, brilliant light,
gleam like polished steel, fencers thrusting
before the background, sorrowful autumn gray sky.

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

door broke

had breakfast at our usual place out in the country.
sat way up front, few people there.
i went to the restroom, then couldn't get out.
the door knob wouldn't open the door.
after thinking two minutes i
knocked on the door six or eight times,
a waitress heard me knocking and let me out.
she said she just happened by,
i said she should tell someone the door is broken.
i don't think she thought about it again.
back at our table, finished my coffee,

ten minutes passed, i was watching,
no one went to the restroom.
we paid our bill and left.
as we were a few miles down the road i wondered

who's trapped in there now?

intentions

Went to the country, had eggs and toast, then gravy on potatoes..too much and ate most of it. Sometimes...yeah, well sometimes I don't follow my good intentions.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

June sun


outside the country store few sounds this morning,  a car, a shopper, distant birds, chickens. the slight metal rattle when a guy goes by on his bicycle, he smiles and waves as he passes. not much else going on; good June sun heating still air, been enough rain lately, fields are green. smells of summer all over.


the above is modern formatting, below my traditional beat poetry method. am i going into a period of change.  i'm not sure if that is a question.

outside the country store
few sounds this morning,
a car, a shopper,
distant birds, chickens.
the slight metal rattle when 
a guy goes by on his bicycle, 
he smiles and waves as he passes.
not much else going on;
good June sun heating still air,
been enough rain lately, fields are green,
smells of summer all over. 

Sunday, June 09, 2019

a song of it

ask around a while, you'll see,
not completely, but often;
June slides in as the favorite.
i'm thinking good weather 
after the months waiting to get here.
relax in that chair, the one you know and love.
coffee is ready, or take the tea.
sugar or no, as you prefer.
that's clouds rolling in.
and your father,
talking water here, i like water...
a dip in the pool, some rain or the ocean,
float along. find the melody,
make a song of it.
soft and yeah, a song you feel.
words you need, when you desire.
soft and yeah.
from the heart.

Saturday, June 08, 2019

apples near the wall

seven years ago she planted,
had an idea, bought them young 
from Mark the plant seller.
put in two apple trees,
twigs they were.
near the wall.
a good idea. espalier.
beautiful from the beginning.
how time evolves.
seasons roll through.
the one on the left produces apples,
the other does not,
she trims them
attempts to get the other to bloom.
will time change this

blur brings mail

our female mail person is
shorter than yours;
head down walking,
moves along in a flash,
zipping by.
i've yelled hello when she put mail in our box,
she never acknowledges me.
maybe her ears are plugged into something.
an unabridged version of Moby Dick?
or hot music?
i'll never know.
she never sees me when i wave
won't leave her cookies this Christmas
like the old days.
instead i'll tape a note on the mail box:
"the whale kills Ahab."
not true, i wrote something silly,
i think we're on the end of the mail route.
the mail person wants to
finish work, go home,
listen to music, read a book.

Thursday, June 06, 2019

graduate

my grandaughter, Kaylan, wraps
high school; cap and gown.
now, to encounter the world.

Wednesday, June 05, 2019

Dog's a bother

my daughter's dog weighs
as much as i do,
nearly, and has big feet.
he stepped on my arm,
punctured it.
he jumps around and is happy.
i like the dog, but now avoid him.
he stayed home when
i ate pasta in an italian restaurent
last night.
melanzana, ricota salata like, dry cheese
and rigatoni alla norma.
this morning i ate it cold.
a dream like breakfast.
It will be sunny and warm.
this is temecula,
southern california.
many people, i can say that again.
not especially easy going.
i bet even the menonites
walk around
with an edge on.

Monday, June 03, 2019

been water

been sky
water falling regularly,
wet mornings we've seen.
sleep through the most of it.
downpours, shake the roof, that sort.

then pauses we'd have;
some days none.
none pauses. kept raining.

factually speaking,
we haven't seen a regular month,
kind we had and knew before
for a bit, for  a country while.
that's truth of the matter.
don't know if records broke,
but sounds like i got impressed.
did enough...yup.

Sunday, June 02, 2019

like a bomb

rapid expansion of the air
surrounding the lightening bolt at
1:43 this morning caused thunder
to echo a full minute as it continued the
sound on to Michigan or Pennsylvania.
i awoke a minute before,
had my senses when the explosion occurred.
vibrated the town,
sounded like a bomb.
an incredible boom.

Saturday, June 01, 2019

rifle me up some breakfast

the piano stumbled to a halt like a fallen horse.
the room got quiet.
she walked over, pad and pen ready,
with a lift of her eye
shot me the glance
i didn't pause, i let her have it:
2 up, rye toast;
i sat still, mouth closed after that.
she asked, no potatoes, bacon or pie?
i held the reins tight, my coach on course.
coffee me, please.
"What about fresh, smoking, cherry pie
warm out of the oven?"
she gave me that smile she was known for,
and nodded.
"not today, Mandy. as curly your hair,
as bright is your smile,
i'm holding...i'll play these, thank you."
and the piano started up again,
chatter all over, plates clinked,
chairs squeaked and movement
burst out everywhere.

Friday, May 31, 2019

hospital lobby

in the lobby i met another jack,
a hospital volunteer, he began talking to me;
explained, because he hit his head
and can't remember names, his wife left him.
i told Jack he'd probably remember my name.
(i wanted him to feel better so i didn't tell him
he probably wouldn't remember my face.)
every few minutes he told me about banging his head
while having fun playing the Rascals and the Turtles on his phone.
i wanted to read my book but he
held the music coming out of his phoneclose to my face.
i pulled back to focus my eyes on the phone,
but he said there was nothing to read on the phone.
i had to listen to the music.
he asked if i liked the rascals and the turtles
and i said "i think i did fifty years ago,  i don't remember."
Jack said they are his favorite groups.
they still are.
he saw them in concert.

only three of us were in the lobby.
a thin, slight, 20 year old roofer
moved closer to us to be nearer the festivities.
he wore old, worn, jeans,
no socks or shoes.
i first noticed him because he had, "no shirt?"
said he "got soaked."
a half-hour before it rained a storm's worth in five minutes.
i told him we were both named jack and asked his name,
i don't remember his name,
maybe the other jack does.
i asked why he's in hospital.
said, "a lump on my knee is getting larger...
insurance expires in two days."


Thursday, May 30, 2019

seasonal winds


500 reports of tornadoes in the last thirty days in the U.S.
i hope my Kansas family ducked trouble.
yesterday Ohio had 4 tornadoes...
we've 64 to 75 Fahrenheit cool.
another thing: i have to look up
how to spell Fahrenheit every time.
it is the practically silent first h i forget about.
now the more i say it, it louder it gets.
Fah-ren-heit. Fah, Fah, Fahrenheit.
still cool, talking weather,
running out of May.
run, run, running is no problem, uh spelling.
also, summer will get here, just saying.
and, think two h's in Fahrenheit.

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

tension for the fans

a cold rainy night
went to bed early
heard in the morning
indians squeezed by boston

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

broken protocol


trains, as i've previously mentioned,
sound off when passing  through our town:
the sequence you hear is a
long, long, short long.
i've heard the train go by all my life,
today six shorts, a pause, 2 shorts
reviving the old time: shave and a haircut, two bits.
someone thought this funny,
a celebration of Memorial Day;
an offense to train protocol.
never heard it before,
hope i never do again.
i'm serious about trains.

Monday, May 27, 2019

a coffee aday

when i today sure searched finding
how coffee from drinking
is positine or negathon.
then reviewed my life and pal coffee,
to sit and have a cup.
to know by remembering seemed better than google,
as amn't in the state of complete burn out
from too much coffee, for sure.
get ready for this.
for can find not finding
no coffee they say,
no sleep, harm, harming
no cream so that's an okay.
no fat here, just a buzz;
knock yourself out.

Sunday, May 26, 2019

poeming

I.
oh, coffee, please yes, starting with coffee.
thank you. nice to see you.
is this seat taken? well, heh heh,
yes, i'm sitting here.
   ...
you're my what?
i mean, no kidding...
   ...
sure i do.
that's right. i wouldn't forget.
you've got that look about you.
say, while we're talking,
you know i received emails about new books,
you know how many?
right, nod your head, mega plenty. plentissimo.
titles more than i can handle
coffee i can handle, you were ready weren't you.
thank you.
sure i know you.


II
rhythm and rhyme
poems take time.
no doubt, take them out,
shake 'em like a rug.
until they shine.
going to make it mine,
before i give it away.

Friday, May 24, 2019

if cows could talk to me

if cows could talk to me
that would be interesting;
don't have one,
haven't seen one face to face for a while
just thinking of the eyes,
one large eye on each side
big and brown. looking,
nearly thinking of something, the cow.
calm, for the most part.
depends, mostly.
apparently content.

began my day

began my day
knee deep in Facebook,
to see who is doing what hey?
what do you say, go out to eat?
she give the nod.
then off to our favorite haunt.
roads away.

we glide into place.
full of quiet talk.
it's humming,
plates, forks and coffee pouring.
steaming hungry, you'd think so
by the way i order breakfast;
double fisted all is resolved.
pancakes in syrup and butter.

to home going when passing
a field of yellow flowers,
pointing says she to look.
a blur we go by.
feeling fresh morning it's the coffee i remember.


I have done to satisfaction when taken to a point near confusion. Did you manage?

Thursday, May 23, 2019

until then


in a while i'll close my eyes,
until then
tell me again...
so in my room late at night

with the window open...
trains passing in the distance,
i hear the music from nearby homes
alive on summer nights,

voices of people and their melodies
come to me over fields,

i'll think of nights that could be magic;
and with music playing fall asleep.

Annie said...
In the quiet of the night, every sound is memorable, and something about the cadence and imagery of your poem is both melancholy and peaceful at the same time. Wishing you magic.
from Monday, July 09, 2012

Monday, May 20, 2019

chase gave

we rolled out yesterday
to see our young friend;
Chase Castle, with a recent bachelor degree
in keyboard performance from Baldwin Wallace,
soon to work on a doctor of philosophy,
has given concerts in eleven states.
last night played organ concert at
St. Peter Lutheran Church, Norwalk, Ohio.
76 people were in audience.
didn't punch tickets, the number in the crowd
is my guess; one young couple among elders.
chase played the keyboard in the balcony.
all watched on jumbotron.
as he reeled off an hour of solemn songs.
one sing along had the crowd metaphorically
eating out of his hands.
at the finale all applauded heartily. i never heard cheering
in a church before, but all in attendance were ready.

Sunday, May 19, 2019

eyebrows are

eyebrows are so
you can look startled
curious, interested,
or angry.

eyelids are for winking
and closing out light
the part of the night
when you're sleeping.

crying is for babies
and feeling better, after.




From July 2016. 

Saturday, May 18, 2019

donny boy

have a goat, his name is don.
doesn't mind if i get on
and ride like the wind.

he plays horse, of course.
and i'm cowboy.
jumping fences. in the wind.
jumping fences in the wind.

any old morning.
or middle of the night,
running full in starlight.
jumping fences in the wind,
jumping fences in the wind.

Friday, May 17, 2019

explosion

this morning 9:15 an explosion.
the house shook with the boom.
that's the essence of this poem.
noteworthy: power's gone.
a puff of smoke cleared half a block away.
all is silent, also worth note.
city workers walking by out front
said a transformer blew, they pointed.
here no need to heat or cool.
as weather's in the middle,
neither hot nor cold.
patience is required and all will be fine.
city workers are on the job.
meanwhile our coffee is made and cooling.
we'll soon be up and running.
i made this note.
while keeping an eye out.
you never can tell.

Thursday, May 16, 2019

sun angle in may

the angle of the morning sun
perfect and bright
like the moon last night,
just right.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

onward

to cleveland, wasn't my plan.
have to follow the program,
actually don't have to,
but pieces fall together smother
excuse me, smoother,
together smoother when
my part of the program
is handled as written,
as set out, as expected by others
who depend on me.
besides, my insurance covers me.
so there it is.
now you want roses added
and make this a love poem?
darling, here they are, metaphorically.
program complete.

Monday, May 13, 2019

sky moans

not a patch of blue
only a slowly rotating blanket of darkness
whispering wet morn.
day after day storms hang close.
the last bumped north, growling.
now in line to catch more
it drips the roof hello.
rainy days, we know you.
no need to go out to feel water.
won't plant vegetables today,
better inside, dry
seeing through foggy windows.
look at the puddles, 
hear tapping on the roof.

Sunday, May 12, 2019

directionally clear

got out my ship compass 
to check.
with paper, pen, tape.
i labeled from the center.
north is the refrigerator,
that way, south is the rocking chair.
so we can head around knowing
where we are and how to get there.
totally directionally clear.

Saturday, May 11, 2019

ode for deer

near the quiet town, New Haven,
three deer, to one side,
off the road
in tall grass, pause.
calmly look our way.
preeminent creatures.
standing without movement,
their beauty
took my breath away.

Friday, May 10, 2019

helpers

the birds help with a poem
they are the live souls.
sure plants are living,
but don't hop on my fence,
can't practically dance.
then let me give a salute to plants
that can be seen growing
day by day
and become flowers
bursting into joyful color
or produce fruits or vegetables
that need only salt or oil
to sure taste good,
provide nutrition;
their down side is
they never tweet.

This is my lost poem of 8 May. Diane, thank you. You copied this and sent a compliment. I lost it and thus you brought it back to live again. I am most grateful.

short line

had a poem lined up,
one, yesterday's.
short line.
where did it go?

i know i had one.
for may 8,
no idea where it went.
so, i say good day

to that what i wrote.
where? can't tell.
no idea what happened.
evidently it didn't float.

lost, though i searched around;
carefully, took my time.
seems i trashed a good one
into the sea of delightful rhyme.




Thursday, May 09, 2019

warm again

you know, one day it will be warm again.
another thing,  i'll get my stuff in order.
wait, i'd like more coffee...
please.
// you want a refill?//
did i say that? i meant that.
//here comes//
thanks...and there she goes.
so i said, a lot is out of place.
i have to put stuff away,
things should be where they belong.
they don't go automatically...
too bad.
one day cars will drive themselves,
they say. automatically.
can they build me a garage?
the cars, i mean. i wonder.
//... //
she glared at me.
i'm serious.
//drink your coffee...sip it.
oh, by the way, the good news is
one day it will be warm again.//

Tuesday, May 07, 2019

onions

carefully eyeing  the circumference of the garden.
having given thought to where summer sun
will best caress the lovelies.
kicked ideas in my head, lost track, came back.
decided exactly where they would thrive.
imagined skin reds and purples of the honey's to be
while patiently waiting
this developing warm spring day.
now: when under arrival the beacon of noon sun 
small bulbs, called sets,
are lovingly pushed one at a time
into invitingly soft, fertilized, prepared soil;
to be watered and sunned,
day after warm day,
growing continuously,
sweet, large, savory and wonderful.
yes,of course there is waiting involved,
but time steps forward.
summer will take a hold.
in a hurrah velvety onions will be.

Monday, May 06, 2019

Race for the Roses

The race was this weekend.
Today we drove in the country
to the Mennonite store.
Wanted to ask if Chuck was here
Meri reminded me, "There is no Saint Chuck,
Mark is his name." I didn't see him,
so I asked the girl in the bonnet
working the counter
who she bet on
in the Kentucky Derby.