i am dreaming a lot.
i smile when i wake in the morning,
half the time i look for coffee.
Meredith always makes coffee.
i should play the piano more, but i get busy writing.
how have you been?
And what's your excuse?
poetry - jack sender - all of my life
i am dreaming a lot.
i smile when i wake in the morning,
half the time i look for coffee.
Meredith always makes coffee.
i should play the piano more, but i get busy writing.
how have you been?
And what's your excuse?
Look now. We're taking disease apart.
and as time goes we keep growing.
cleaning house we are, keep going,
Scientists are cleaning the land
by growing enzymes without names.
arbuscules have set up shops...more than one.
step back. stack 'em up, keep growing.
be sure to get your vaccine.
i've done it before, run clean out of January
while looking ahead for warmer days,
trying to erase winter cold from my mind.
today i don't feel heavy calendar involvement although
we are looking down the barrel on the short end of the month.
yes, it's easy nighttime dreaming, then waking
to see another day has flipped by.
January 2021, i'm ready to jump off and leave you.
we need clean water...we have cold air...be sure to dress warm
snow blows in. I'm distracted thinking of those Africans with nothing.
and have to walk half a day for water. how can that be? that is torture.
can't they move closer? they are calm and work to provide for their familys.
meanwhile, here we have it easy in America and it's going to hell.
---
then it would freeze, cold makes ice
when cold is nice, take my advice
how have you been, when actually cow
ten skin win thin ice den twin hen been kin dicey
---
so sometimes it falls apart
and when i look at the cart
i'm pushing it.
wave the flag, we're going to race.
symbols all fill the place
when thinking letters with words forming.
now typing and holy cow, expressions.
sure we are the possessions
of dime rhyme.
WAIT... kindle pinged me for an Irish fiction.
now think computerland, ring deeper.
i think you sent a sleeper.
when i was a kid i never got off on St. Patrick's day.
i've four grandparents born in Poland.
cut flowers, cheese, sausage, coffee, pie, line 'em up...make me cry.
nostrovia
Aaron Rodgers Quarterback for Greenbay
didn't score a touchdown
the first time he had the ball
like Tom Brady and Tampa Bay did.
i told Meri i felt sorry for him
she said, don't. he makes 300 million dollars.
bought a house in Malibu with his girlfriend
and now he's getting another one...girl friend?
yeah, who needs two houses.
emails keep pouring in. i don't see why.
where have i been?
since when?
well, send money not emails.
i don't have to read dollar bills.
gives me chills.
books are open kindlecordingly
they do stack electronically.
if i had a horse, and knew how to ride
i'd be cookng over an open fire
and sleeping under stars.
that planet is Mars...where i'm pointing.
nice night, yeah?
7:30 in the morning, i flipped on the TV.
Wolf Blitzer looks tired. the man so admired.
i took a shower the first hour i'm awake.
the anauguration is today.
everyone will line up soon black car after another.
Joe is getting ready, maybe he's having breakfast.
i forgot about breakfast, there i remembered and i'm hungry.
so i made bacon and scrambled eggs.
then from a good seat in my tv chair,
well, we switched, but often do that, i'm in her chair.
both chairs are identical, more or less... no, exactly, and forty years old - from Nancy Otten..
our day is marking the event. no snow fall, a cold spring-like day.
good sun. i'll believe he goes easy when he is gone.
it's eight o'clock...the door is open...he hasn't gone yet.
this is our time also. a point to mark time. i'd rather have a musical event
like a singer and piano player. Diane Krall, heard her recently, what a fine artist.
put her on a fine piano and you have something.
Meri put it together, there's no crowd at the airport...he wants to talk to a crowd.
8:15 he and wife, Melania are in the helicopter.
8:18 liftoff for a fifteen minutes flight to Air Force One at Andrews Air Force Base. Joint base Andrews
what, i have to give a travel report for this poem?
my words are sleepy also i suppose.
not greased but moving ahead. i should be at a table looking
toward the rising sun. having an easy winter.
well i'll have breakfast then see how the world looks.
mask up,
way to go;
tie one on
this time for Joe.
i'd say we were fifteen
eating lunch in the school cafeteria
for the first time. at the same table
he watched me eat, i watched him.
mashed potatoes, vegetables, salad, and meat.
he was amazed because i ate things together.
one bite here, one bite there; and i'd never seen someone like him.
he ate all the potatoes, then all the vegetable,
then all the salad, then all the meat.
we do as we are taught.
the overboard moon, i took along
as i could carry it.
my heart sank in the warming trend post;
day after day i made notes.
memories in Rome poured out.
what we saw
as we took buses new places.
and the familiar
over and over: bus by train and car.
so many corners we turned.
my heart is warmed
with lasting impressions.
i'm glad to have made a note of it.
enjoy the ride, did you?
in the library someone sits in the center
spinning through pages in a book, looking for something.
Concentratng. Evidently busy.
As i come in the front door a librarian at the main desk
spins her head to see who entered.
"Good morning", she says to me with a smile.
"Hello". i say. i recognize her from years ago but don't recall her name.
She stands taller at the counter and awaits my words.
"Who is that at the center desk," I ask.
"Arnold," she says, "I don't think you know him. He's new in town."
I nodded.
"Has it stopped raining yet?" she asks, looking out the window.
I smiled. "Almost. It is nearly finished. Not like before, that's for sure."
...
there are stacks of them.
I came for only one.
i see that is so. what is the hook? i will write until i finish.
i read new poets to see what they say
mine is like ancient but i wrote it today
don’t make new schemes, don’t always use rhymes
I’ve got this thing going of doing four lines
don’t run with a group; It’s all give and take
i patch and recoup, so give me a break
no snow yet, not like it should be.
not as i remember those times when
we used our sleds everyday, school was out
just about. on the hill right in town, speeding down;
through the woods to get there.
we followed the snow falls bidding
... made tracks so others could find the paths,
for crossing walking ways ... in blanketed white
pounded down with footprints,
morning through night
... in January, crispy
saw the disturbance on TV;
as close as i wanted to be.
agony to see how real trump is,
that people willingly follow him,
emulate his example.
at home, away from crowds
and covid19
all is fine for me,
life goes backward,
the clock of it,
and you don't know it.
when your sleeping
hours tick off backward ...
not always, but oh, yes they do,
while you're not looking.
how can it do that?
so basically
when you're out and about
i want you on the same page,
no game changers, okay ?
to tell the truth
here's the takaway
keep your eye on the ball
got that? get that.
it starts this way ...
i hear the poem idea in my head; not quite.
sometime during the night
it goes tick, tick, tick
i'll look over quick
then forget what i said.
i read and slept by the usual time. thought i heard noise of cheers but it was only ten last night. l read the news now to see what happened. this morning it seems the usual outside: silent, okay.
now afternoon and it rains.
The other side of the globe where it is summerish, weather warm, walking around without coats ... good for you. I thought of you today. it was direct thinking of you. enjoy your warm days. here it is cold, above freezing during the daytime, but cold enough i need to decide which hat will I wear every time I go out. so now, this is real thinking of you from me here.
next on my mind
is using capitalization of letters.
even in paragraph form
i prefer to do as with my poetry:
names, titles, what i choose ... not
grammatical order. doesn't make sense.
seems to read and write easily for me.
thought i'd say.
she hung it by a string from the ceiling.
gave a spin; it flashed in a sparkle of sun;
wow. beautiful to see.
after a while i pointed, "it's slowing up."
she shook her head and said, "we're all slowing up."
that time i nodded. she deserves an award for observation.
at long last the decoration slowly came to a stop
and began spinning back the other way.
i wish i could do that.
all right, after a heavy snow day
light rain has been falling.
are you okay with that? snow is leaving.
now it's warmer and January is a week away.
let's joyously throw away this old year
and begin a good year with new weather shall we?
fields are under white wonder.
the sky's the color of a week-old snow drift.
in the forecast rain is brewing
to wash away the freshly fallen
mounds of powder stewing
if not today, maybe tomorrow.
reagardless, have a nice day
until the rain man gets here
and washes everything away.
we design the fest, mark it out,
then act as if the calendar happened by itself ;
we won't claim responsibly.
pack your memory bag ...
remember the best of times.
music too, pull that out and remember
when it sure was sweet.
doesn't matter which tunes you recall ... any will do,
while you go around carrying more viruses
within you than stars in the sky.
load up the reindeer
American girl cries to grandmother
on the phone. wants to go home.
got four months in jail at Cayman island
for breaking the Covid19 quarantine.
winding down in warmer weather..
the year...winding or un-winding
what is going on, this is new.
most every speck of snow has melted.
and people go on like all is normal.
what can we do? kinda late to think about it.
struggling into the weekend.
no birds, no animals. not around today.
it is completely quiet today.
there is no problem reading my head. my ideas.
i desire to write some good words, and fear to proceed.
yesterday I read my journals of trips to Mexico, Costa Rica and Italy.
fun to recall, return, live again. should i reprint all, make more work of it?
right now i am taking it easy, getting through rough times.
keep going simply, i am.
no bucket fulls. we're going easy now.
a dab at a time.
always lights have something to do with snow loading days. It Seems snow is on the way. They say. But hey, but we're out of the big fall. measure up.
the coast east will feast on it, the white cold wet.
I look now and it seems sleepy out here.
out there, you know.
hey, it's pretty. and sleepy.
Ohio winter is light, not yet effective.
only Covid 19 is pronounced.
January will begin another world
as trump is on his way away.
sleep packed with dream.
more than sand lining the shore.
my mind wandered in extreme
so much to explore. can you feel it, Christmas. on the way is the holiday, and it is quiet
with people staying at home. mostly alone and thinking. covid is about. at least it is not freezing. there,
something good to enjoy. go eat a cookie.
it could squish between my toes
warm days i walked barefoot
through a puddle
summer outing
The others, joni mitchell, paul simon,
I read and hear about.
many others times, songs are brief.
years in Rome, days to come. Meals.
Other cities, around talking.
Pictures in my memory.
watching poems, impressed, concerned
overcome with, battle along my way,
you go easy, you know you should.
roads are slippery when
it's me in the way.
you wave briskly for me to see you.
it could have been, distraction,
took away concentrationfor a second.
objective in sight.
slow down to be extra careful.
no matter how long it takes i'll wait.
i first saw him many years ago,
for years i've seen him ... on TV.
thin, sturdy, blonde, neat-combed hair.
of apparent Scandinavian descent, i'd say.
he's with a football team, that's why i see him.
once in a while during a game they show him on the sidelines;
always looking attentive ... concerned.
probably a head coach of the NFL team watch.
i know this guy's name for nothing.
i saw him on Monday night Football this week.
for thirty years or more i've seen him occasionally.
so i know him better than he knows me, naturally.
for sure we both get along where we belong ... on the sidelines.
and work it out
hey Debra; Jack and Meridith
from way far away after Sausalito
and Rome, now Oberlin, Ohio
spark a hoppin' hello
back to times with Henry, Joanne and the rest of us.
cause you led us hoppin' true
you did and we stayed in step
you're still in our brain
December got here. so did the snow,
knee deep white, more than i've seen for years.
today is Wednesday, last night snow came down
heavily. today it's 41 degrees, we have no snow tires,
can we get out and back in .
oh yes, she did, all went well.
she made it out and back.
now two weeks later.
it is no snow, warmer
another day is Thursday , sunny.
blue sky with gentle, now wind, wispy clouds.
snow storms are gone,
the temperature is over freezing.
looking out to stillness.
(check the time) 1:44, close the door,
now, this is what a poem is for ...
to give you rhyme, most every time, not always ...
and good sense? hmm, you decide.
and poetry has meter, ... like a parking meter only you never put quarters in.
it won't expire and you won't get a ticket.
and scheme ... what a dream.
today's theme acceptance and encouragement ...
please accept my poem, i encourage you to write your own.
i was asked to write you a poem for today.
what is the poem about? HAH. my poems are so short i 'd divulge too much if i mention it.
here's my poem:
a crowd of poets is a sad thing, there's no denying;
we'll spend time holding hands when we''re not crying.
i'm not lying.
the life of a poet is
difficult, complicated.
making notes sorting words, stacking
cards; we're poets in isolation,
doing it alone ...
the sound of one dog barking
oh, here to the corner ... no parking.
there is hunger in the United States and Covid 19
... this poem distracted you for a moment ...
like rainbow colors, in fluffy clouds
slid the window open after three
dreamed clouds again until five-thirty
when, from long beyond
i heard the whistle say - i am train
calling low in light rain,
sweet voice, milk and thunder
clawing on wings of steel,
lonely is the night, strong, sure
swinging through, blasting,
rolling heavy on quick-wheel feet
powering around, long through, then out of town,
murmur lonely; cutting night stillness, like blades on ice
iron maiden go, into first morning light
familiar friend, shaking windows with your power,
i smiled, low in bed, covered my head
slept another hour.
this is the third time i've published this poem;
i like it and i'm working on it.
sleeping, thinking, rolling dream.
half and half, back again,
not too early, not too late.
i want to hear the tapping rain drops.
nearly see forgotten faces of friends i knew.
longing to see my friends again.
yeah, a cup of coffee and thirty minutes
can do wonders for friendships.
While in Norwhere we drove to the lake several times, sometimes for her to walk the mile or so, loop around, then sometime to gather nuts. A line of chestnut trees were on our way out of the park. It took us a year or two to notice them, then we began timing the season to pick chestnuts when they dropped.
kept the nuts in the freezer. The squirrels like them. We gathered them by the lake; nuts not squirrels. today I finally ate one, three. They are two years old, not fresh. tasty as a nut should be. chestnuts. Now i know them. Open your heart and you can too.
a crowd of poets is a sad thing,
there's no denying;
we'll spend time holding hands
when we're not crying.
sure i miss the bus rides;
i'm not in Rome where i need to figure where to ride,
where to stop, how far to walk.
i tell you, i miss looking out the home window,
seeing the locals pass by,
while thinking it out, planning every bus i'll take.
how far to the next change.
stores i need to stop at along the way.
makes it easier if i have a plan before picking the route.
pick me up again, bring me back.
and how is it i run into friends
in the middle of the city?
you may have missed it,
Peru has had three
presidents in a week;
2020 continues to be a strange year.
now, are you feeling better?
less is better, dear.
don't know who said it.
if he's led out the door.
as we move through the coming year
we'll brighten better than before.
less is better, dear,
if he's led out the door
as we move through the coming year
want to say this Ohio Saturday
went down cool, not terribly. meanwhile,
going through my old poems; took me
back where only time has changed.
right now there is no snow.
still early ... thinking what i'd do.
i'd purchase a monthly bus pass
to see the same old Roma,
have a pizza. take my time.
say hello to familiar faces.
oh, and have a coffee.
i think today i'd wear a mask ...
have another coffee and a cornetto.
a final warm day.
Weather, now leaning into winter.
Shelby has been out of reach for breakfasts.
I want to go back to make corrections on an early post and the new blogger system makes it impossible for me to go back several years. The old system operated quickly. The new method is impossible for me. I will cry here.
in Sandusky, Ohio an ambitious woman began putting
in an art center. Lawrence Ferlinghetti
was invited. he came; picked up a brush,
began painting a modern picture on a wall;
later he asks for the section of the plaster wall he
painted be sent to his City Lights Bookstore
on a downtown corner in San Francisco.
was it shipped? i don't think so.
he was seventy then.
i remember him as old.
i'm 75 now ... still chasing beat poetry.
he's 101 now.
if he had donated his wall painting where
it stood there is a chance it would
still be there today.
well, good for Lawrence and his bookstore
in San Francisco. I saw his corner everyday when i worked in the pyramid. 1981.
may as well quit crying over how it goes
as we try to work life out.
heaven knows
we're about done,
time to to enjoy the sun.
it's what life's about.
the world series is over
and nary a thought is given.
hopefully, next week the election
will be in the same condition.
i hear it while i'm sleeping
and it only awakens me occasionally.
i won't roll around looking to see it,
but when it's coming down
i love the morning rain;
best is when i hear
the tapping drops.
i must wait, see what.
can't have all the votes going my way.
it's unlikely, who'd believe it ?
anyway, it scares me so tension clings to me,
wading deep with each news report.
reading the book in an easy chair, seems
the way to take it, with a page marker
plus time out for a nap and a coffee.
supposed to be warm now.
slow temperature climbing,
the mail man's looking content.
brought nothing special yesterday.
imagine he's happy for a day without steady rain.
by late afternoon sun'll come though;
it'll warm like they said.
can't help wait for the two old men debate.
Trump and Biden.
running beyond October
shall be soon, with rain in the leaves.
where we be going
do not confuse.
stack us up fine,
love around is falling in those crispy colors
crinkling golden. the red is deeper than before.
geese will be honking.
you have to love this time of year
some news stories
are hard to take or evaluate
cautiously medical personal creep ,,,
do they weep? Ohio has record covid cases
third day in a week,
the same America
how many buffalo did we kill?
i like desert gas stations.
quiet out there
can we believe the news
what are we looking for.
have to regain strength
so i'm standing on one foot
then the other, how's that?
i didn't think this up.
i'm sure doctors did, then
a young person gets a job showing
me how to do it.
makes the money wheel spin.
keep america working.
the virus runs again
where you been?
Do it again.
they're large animals.
seems one male would be called a reindo. like rambo
or rainbow cause they're a dream
and some are girls. sure are great to see.
i've their image in my mind to hold on to.
thinking good thoughts makes me happy.
a few deer were outside this morning.
call them what you like, moving around out there,
they're beautiful leapers.
my Monterey, Snort, how sweet
our time together,
oh, how i patched you,
thanks, Morgan.
ordered a two cylinder diesel engine
from China. it came to the boat yard
and i put it in. a pal set it straight
and i hooked it up.
i can taste the salt water breeze of the Pacific
when i think of it.
***
hurray.
for the fiftieth anniversary of the Oakland bay bridge
i took my 28 foot sloop Navigator.
my nautical wood working friend Mike and Meri
and along with many hundreds of other boats
on a quiet black night.
what a time, and that is what what a time means.
boats packed in like sardines out of a tin.
we did our part to be in the thick of music, lights and celebration
and got home without a nick.
all a part of life on San Francisco Bay
i've a pen on the table
it's not ripping my pockets out.
i'm able to jot notes with the computer.
i'll carry a pen if i have to.
i'll say it's a great day out.
walking out i did five minutes three times, checking.
the trash can is still waiting full.
third time, just got back and
the truck came, no kidding, i watched it.
so i went out a fourth time to bring the empty can in,
finally, really, no kidding.
7 October, what a day you've made.
yeah, completely wonderfully warm.
lable today just right.
also, my brother in law, Gerry,
transferred 3000 pictures from my camera
to my computer, thus giving my phone camera
fresh life to begin again...more or less.
better than a phone rock full if photos.
the lines step out with a meter
and rhythm from my heart.
how about that, do sound right, eh?
don't know what i 'm thinking
while watching to the corner
can you dig it ... an affirmation
not a question, quite.
a coffee would set the day off
just right.
a month to find the reason
to call this month pumpkins, pies, cooler.
and what howls in the night.
watch, wait and think - an approaching end to another year.
two hands, ten fingers.
how the wind blows, Sugar.
Amanda raises goats.
Peccorino she'll tell you is the cheese.
back home her family helps goat watch.
she returns every year to home near Naples.
pistachio is put in. i have no idea how that works.
good cheese, good nuts,
good weather for a family home
good, good, good.
in these parts summer has spent itself;
although this week will
make another temperature run.
don't get excited.
when you look back you'll see
summer was close to swell, but
this year seemed to run by quickly
and lacked the best of moments.
you know, sometime it goes like that.
i'm happy for what we had.
you do the same.
oh, summer will return next year
and knock us off our feet.
drove down south some, we did.
decent day of sun, weather and all.
saw no wagons this day.
empty morning on the back-ways.
no rabbits out
not a one
even here at home they hid.
that's what we limitly saw, and what we did.
some diet. i am not eating meat
most of the time. don't think about it.
once in a while at a rice place i have
some meat in a ground up sauce.
i wanted to call it our rice place.
we always go to the same one.
there aren't many.
i thought i got turkey, but she said
i had pork. all the same to me,
whether i have it or not.
food is what i order.
the spicy i like.
not crazy spicy ... tasty.
flavor me, Babe
i'm cooperative.
gathered close, light woods around
deerskin tan and markings white abound
in quiet movement, together, shuffling
without sound. only the ambience of evening.
moonless sky. strong bodies, family,
in silence, light breathes, watching amid darkness.
numbers, they speak of time, we know hours
as they pass in dampness. they call numbers in hours.
we see paths, streams, short rivers we know.
living dreams. our numbers live with us.
wood sticks lightly kicked against leaves.
our group of deer move in near silence.
breathe in light puffs. aware around us.
the plumber is on his way.
- couldn't find her,