I PAINTED YOU BLACK
REAL BLACK
ALL BLACK
YOU DIRT BIKE YOU
I RIPPED THE KNEES OUT'A ALL MY PANTS
FALLING DOWN WITH YOU
WE CLIMBED HILLS
AND RODE ALL THE WAY AROUND GUAM
THE ENTIRE ISLAND
MANY TIMES
WE'D GO THROUGH FIELDS
OVER THE BEACH SANDS
INTO THE JUNGLE
IN THE RAIN
And on Nice Sundays
STOP FOR A ROOT BEER
TOO BAD I HAD TO SELL YOU
TOO BAD
limbs paddle lightly
with no worry where they've been ...
half a haze, half a sun
the early morning fishermen
patience sits me quiet, calm again.
waiting to see how the day feels ... begins.
how calm are you this morning?
you won't leave me in the dark forever.
a pie is sweet and so is cake
when you bake just right
overnight you warm with low heat
you know what a treat it will be
to have a slice with coffee.
warms my heart to think of it.
when we'll sit, have a slice,
that sound nice?
let's put it together so it happens.
there's room on the log
stuck in the bog
where there's a frog
or two, singing.
Interesting voices they have,
in harmony soothing as salve
they croak in tones
pure and ringing.
another season is set to open
as we prepare the region and the garden
we drove us to Shelby ... wasn't easy
not when you stack the day together.
first we had to go a half hour
Kind of on the way to Norwhere
to see the beautiful new steps
Dan and his Mr. father, Ed Barman made;
steps of cement to look like the 1860 sandstone original.
don't know how they did it.
then on to Shelby for the first time in a year
for a breakfast not memorable ... or for sure we
will remember it as the day that rang no bells.
the old crew were gone, the new are not the same.
the woman with me had a Spanish something egg with toast,
it looked like catsup.
mine was a pancake, two eggs, shredded potatoes they say.
each of the customers, that's us, had many coffees.
we left a bit saddened. this is April, 2021 ,
the race is long over and we saw many Trump signs.
on fifteen minutes to Shilo, at Blu-ray: flowers, trees, bushes
and plants ... Saturday, 17 April his opening day.
moving quickly, "hi" to Mark, with nearly a smile
embedded in his recognition of me.
air is still, pleasant, quiet, Mark never slowed down
workers out with packs of flowers,
she shopped what she could.
then to Planktown, no masks on workers,.
10:43 AM, 46 degrees, pleasant,
many customers wore masks.
we rode back to Oberlin.
names have always been important;
you'd think so anyway.
it appears that to begin writing
without a known subject
is a vague initiation ...
ghost writing in the dark.
on a paper bench in the park ... without a pencil.
she said she saw a rabbit again - oh, happiness.
i see workers in our yard.
all are moving beyond my involvement.
desired conclusions unknown.
she called workers to action.
my concern is for a satisfactory finale.
so shall we all some to eventually.
so shall it be.
Water has to drain from our yard.
Rabbits are fun to have around if they don't
eat away the garden and flowers.
i make note and count the hours.
"to the color we'll add some beige ...
to give a hint of age," said the man Ed
who has been working with cement
fifty years.
i met him, saw his initial procedure.
he can handle the job.
i'm happy He's doing the work For me.
It will rain some.
i'm not worried about it.
what a pleasure.
the season has developed in full at last.
we think so, and it appears that way.
now two rabbits show up in our yard.
frolicking. the two rabbits jumped straight off the ground.
five feet in the air. i didn't know they could do that.
frolicking is the word for how they acted.
one large like our last year bunny. one small.
there are many bunnies and these didn't have tags; you see a few
And realize they look the same.
we were hoping these are returnees.
but you know ... that's a good starting phrase,
but you know new rabbits could be friendlier
than the two last year who always
kept a hunddred feet away.
these are the opening minutes ... we'll see.
at last a warm evening ...
the first of hopefully many.
old downtown behind Main.
Meri, Catherine and i take a table.
birds overhead call each other.
making a point. put on a show.
i know they do. it's how they go.
as water lightly rolls down the river.
the birds crowd each other.
that's a seagull's life.
boats are coming in;
the afternoon's over.
Ride on to ohio. take the highway.
Hello daughter. been two years.
so talk-fill the gaps. Meri can handle her end.
you're speedy, i'm slack; loving every day.
done a winter's worth of waiting for you.
it's swell. we know each other well.Looking ahead, We'll be warm
tomorrow ... like toast, they say.
if we didn't have this pandemic
we could hug. but i'm an old man
afraid of catching the bug.
so we do what we can.
pasqua is easter ...
weightlessness in long term
space. you hit the ball, round first
base. good thing we're here on planet
blue, running, hitting like we
do. yes, the season has just
begun. so far few players have hit a home
run. wait until Monday, see how they've
done.
strike, ball, double, take off, watch the ump.
mark down Easter, figure if we will spend summer
watching baseball .. or have we had enough.
watching guys who make 200 million a year
and we have to pay a hundred a season
just to see them on TV.
They should pay fans a hundred a month
to watch them on TV.
i can smell the ocean from my chair.
looking up it isn't there.
a peach ripens on the window sill
the clocks approaching quarter 'til
and as i pull the bag from my cup of tea
my mind takes me places i'd like to be.
here, magazines picture my vacation
while outside, birds make their migration.
the mast will creak as my chair rocks.
i stir my tea as my ship docks,
with quill in hand and love sublime
i'll send this message from out of time
corked and floating on ocean's crest
the letter drifts to islands west
at night, moonlight flashes the bottle glass,
by day, the jumping, curious dolphin pass
by sooner or later and seagulls,
by lesser and greater in wind lulls,
by storms and seasons
beyond all reasons
i put my feet up and think of beach,
sip my tea, and eat my peach
don't open your eyes, you won't believe this ... sleep more before you go ahead.
Wake to snow Covering all ... won't last, melting fast. Winter's gone but yeah bah. What an April morning to take in.
want some eggs an bacon?
you're dreaming.
Meanwhile there is poetry, back in fashion ... scattered around pick that one off the ground, clown. It's yours.
claim it. sticks a medal on you for showing up today ... hold still, Willy. Will yah.
okay eight-thirty now and the street looks slushy.
nothing new falling. it's on the way to total meltdown.
Sharon Stone doing a cowboy film.
she certainly did 26 years ago.
am i poeming yet
this middle of the week?
trash goes out every Wednesday.
stack up those weekly obligations.
while Catherine flies in
Califonia to Detroit.
she'll see her friend then drive here
where robins are out hoping, pecking
as today the year's third month ends.
worn out. mark it down.
a quarter of the year has burned.
not only quickly it went quietly.
entirely wrapped up.
as you, i'm happy to have seen it.
Flying today is my daughter
from California. where it's hotter
well, it's not the season for heat
yet it's warm enough.
neat she's coming here
wing in dear.
And good for us. Joy. Joy again.
This doesn't happen everyday.
we'll all enjoy the visit.
like sprinkling seeds of happiness.
well i guess i'll miss her toby and daughter.
so i guess we'll fly hr way next.
here and also another ... there.
morning cold spring rain.
enough so neighbor runners
packed in suits head to toe
jackets with the hoods-up go,
decked in outfits like firefighters
on the back of a bells-clanging
fire truck running with siren blaring
down city streets. out of the way,
tearing quick, make way.
on this cold rainy day.
very brisk starting.
out of the way.
the ceilings are high.
Floors are natural, wood boards.
no cars passing this morning
all creatures doing as best they can
no rabbits, deer, birds nor wind;
and it's warm enough, you know for sure
after a long winter cold, spring finally began.
daylight savings time
forgotten the day after
until six months later.
why do we reset clocks.
don't tell me.
why not forget the change
we need the sun in the morning
and the moon at night.
coffee and oatmeal are sufficient
cancel inconvience
when i heard he was a Beatle
i had no idea Paul McCartney
would write Live and Let Die,
a Jame Bond movie theme;
or that fifty years later i'd write these words,
think this thought, and not be particularly surprised.
my, my, how the world goes 'round.
although, i had not the foggiest idea.
the lake waves roared and gulls flew swiftly
as lives tumbled forward
Into new times and new friends;
always unexpected adventures.
years later i came back and walked on the pier
only slower and not so far out this time.
now i can satisfy myself by looking at old photographs
and pictures i'd painted years ago.
there are memories. sweet memories we share
of times back then. you know when.
summer was ours. yes it was.
we'd hear the coal dumper and the morning trains.
remember?
we saw familiar people walking on main street.
you see one, recognize, and forgot his or her name;
almost recall, but not quite. you never thought some year you'd try to remember.
and there were people then i could recognize but never knew their names.
their cars or trucks went by and a while past they would be familiar too,
and we never gave it a second thought.
i know driving by you couldn't help but look to see what was playing at the Ritz.
you'd smile. some time you'd have seen the movie
and now you'd drive to the next town to a decent theater.
or it was league night at the bowling alley.
maybe friends would come over for cards tonight or a beer.
no matter ... evenings went well.
these endless summers were ours.
The International space station
floats overhead, clear as a bell,
bathed in the light from the sun.
Tonight the ISS passes over at
10:49 p.m. Coming from the west/southwest.
It revolves the earth every 90 minutes.
16 times a say
a blue jay and a male (red headed) woodpecker
tree hopped outside our window this cold morning,
20 March, with frost on the ground.
reading this on another date you'll have to imagine
the coldness. the stillness. the internal anticipation
of the sweet beginning happening now.
all around, anywhere we look.
talk to anyone and behind the day's greeting
is the hopeful sweetness, the advent of tomorrow's glorious season
no one can stop or keep away.
Spring.
The day is a absolutely like a spring one;
which began midnight today March the 21st.
Clear, light blue sky this morning and fields hold
a light tan cast more or less, as far as I can see.
we need sunny days to get the green growing.
plus some heat, of course.
and naturally it will ... happen i mean.
slowly, swiftly through every lawn and field ...
green'll cover everything as far as we can see.
there will be birds and people walking their dogs
with their plastic bags.
***
the evening news on Cleveland TV said the space station
is coming over at 8:39 tonight, from a west south-westerly direction.
also i heard something "about fifteen degrees." i missed that.
later it was time, Meri said come on, and we went outside.
in this new home we don't know the directions well,
only East for the rising sun and West where it sets.
she wanted to drive to Delaware somewhere where there is open space.
at home we have trees all around and only a few minutes to get ready.
we stood in our driveway, in about a minute and she starts,
"there it is ... i see it there." i looked and there it was,
just-about overhead. we expected a dot and it's large as captain Kirk's Enterprise. and lit up.
for seven minutes we watched the space station pass over from the middle of our driveway.
didn't happen, yet, it's gonna.
wind that clock, storm's on the way.
i put on shoes instead of slippers.
serious water coming down, down.
we'll soon see how much
atmospheric anomalies
are shaking our days.
at the very least: dress for it.
seen together during winter months
lined up on ice in a row
then leap up to the air all at once
when they decide it's time to go
ducks fly in a shifting v
low in flight, not going far
I've got to stop right there. The title: Line in a row. When you have a line,
that's a row isn't it? I am sure that a line indicates a row. I don't have to say
straight line. A line is a line, and that's a row. March is a month for poetry,
isn't it? Keep your shoes on. Get in the box.
get ready for opening day.
When the pitcher pitches,
knock it into the stands.
and when you round the bases
be sure to tip your hat to the fans.
Today I was taking a nap
when the phone rang,
"This is Andy from the shipping department..."
That's all I ever hear,
because there is a pause
and I hang up, every time.
He's been calling everyday for a month,
maybe longer, I lose track of time.
Maybe he's from the "fishing" department.
I've never asked him to repeat himself.
We've never really talked.
I just know when it's
the wrong time for a call
and I'm not expecting one,
the phone rings
and it's Andy.
Ok, slip-up. Goes around.
Hold him so high yet still have fear.
There I said the word
And how's your morning.?
Quiet, nothing... prepared.
Thought I finished with dentists,
Then a holiday nut broke a crown.
MY crown. ... my golden crown.
Do I get a 21 gun salute for showing up?
Forget you. Bail out now or she'll
Drive you you know where.
Yes. I'm ready.
***
get tough.
later, Got through.
a quarter into the year,
noting days, like dripping waters, pile on repeatedly.
our position labeled fine. over my shoulder now,
separating threads, flipping heads
also tails.
while making bread ... who controls flipping?
examine what is going on. avoiding dread, enough said.
Position ourselves in hopes for the most, making toast ...
turning out a good year ... our objective.
we're underway ... put jelly on
a mention of jelly to make us all feel good,
well beyond this year's starting line
our position is labeled fine.
over my shoulder now.
separating beads, flipping heads
and tails, making bread,
who is controlling flipping?
dodge dread, what was said
positioning ourselves for the most, making toast ...
simply turning out a good year ... our objective.
no doubt we're underway ... with jelly on.
jelly is mentioned to make you feel good
it's Fahrenheit degrees in the morning.
warmer than anything we've had for
a while. not freezing is it. not a question.
reminds me of country roads we've
driven between here and Shelby
where Ted and Ali's our old
breakfast place is. for me it is
sitting still and looking out the
window that draws back the warm times.
the lockdown is done for
had enough for now
don't asume anything.
keep your distance. mine too.
now it's the month and the angle
when first thing each morning
brightly shining through the blinds
the sun decorates my wall with brilliant stripes.
it 's a bright display
gets my attention.
too bad the sun
doesn't make coffee.
i can't hear it ticking.
upon trying i ascertain
it feels wound enough.
the porch is cold.
the clock is not keeping time in the traditional sense we think of ticking and moving clock parts. not running seems to sum the clock lack of movement. i last checked this morning. it must have been running. i remember no strain or alarm to get it going or worry bout the clock's condition. i surely didn't write a poem about it then.
clock tocking is now in absence.
also ticking is gone.
with this note quiet is registered.
one of the easiest things to do.
keep tires up...then one day wham.
you've seen it happen when you don't expect it, you're suddenly
looking down on misery, not always yours thank god, everyone has a turn.
it happens all around...or used to, yes, misery. they're making
better tires than they used to. we used to look down and find a state of distress...
well, yeah. remember patching tires. a while ago. this is miserable truth.
i am not kidding. on the good side when things are fine we can pull over on the road side
chew a twig of grass, oh, and sit on a
knoll, enjoy the view. your tire is okay,l
just relax...take it easy for a while. you're not in a hurry. it's a good sunshiney day.
seems the weather and the date is where i can be.
the weather because i see it out the windows,
the date because we're doing a quick slip out of February.
i like the month because it's my birthday time.
i don't wait all year for it, but maybe i do.
it's a familiar marker, more than Christmas and other holidays.
and it's in my head because it is only special to me.
familiar, more than special. i know the month well;
cold, snow and my birthday.
just a picture...in mind,
then it became me, on the sand
near the sea. one foot In
feeling exquisitely warm water
such a fine sunshine day.
we welcome the exchange
standing by in the water. ready to walk
in a while.splash in up to our chin, go ahead fold over, then look around ... rolling
where we are. Like waves, we're rolling.
2.
remember a few days ago how the snow melted when winter collapsed,
seems the bottom dropped out of it.
the heavy winter cold had gone away.
it's not even April. not close.
the snow season was ripped out from under us.
No skiers. No complaints.
3.
look how shopping i found little discs of chocolate, on the top shelf.
write those candies down, will you? then scratch them off the list, go on.
lover make sure there is not a trace of those little buggers
bugers and buggers...two guh's i suppose.
candy anyway.
now, zooming, should we wear our Sunday clothes?
warm feeling, i know. scarf on.
meanwhile, mechanical...
a scientific study to relieve the spot where literary pain...
let me phrase this, that, my hat...no cat
vines entwines,
pile a stack...sticks, candle wicks
my heart holds you back of mine,
nick of time
sublime, so sublime.
now look where we are.
different weather surrounds us,
not usual, it's warmer.
see out the window, the snow is melting there.
winter has collapsed,
the bottom dropped out of it.
the heavy winter has been taken away.
carted off, ripped out from under us.
i don't mind, although it seems a portent of different weather to come.
***
note here:i want a semicolon in this punctuation. i will have to wait to try again.
a semicolon carries a certain flare.
doesn't bother me to go back to read
a second time what i wrote.
generally i always have to.
it's not easy to digest a poem the first crack.
is this good or normal? well, who is to worry?
i don't write them in one pass anyway.
This is getting to first base with a poem.
to start i put nuts in a basket. Gathered are feelings and i called them nuts.
he reached into my mouth and unscrewed a post he put in to hold a crown.
i said that right. the post is loose, he(my friend the dentist)'s going to put in a larger post.
(here my wife would say "he's not your friend, he's you dentist." and i'd say "he is too my friend.")
now, on the next day.
I'm going back to (my friend) the dentist;
I'd rather avoid the thought, however, I respect the man.
I'd look ahead happily If i had half a wit.
i'm going to let him twist a larger screw into my jaw.
yeah, i am melting snow
well, seeing it, not participating
it is too slow to watch snow melt.
i am warm inside looking out
take your time; you melt, i'll be here.
there are a thousand people standing around and the new guy is asked:
"Are you here for your second shot, sir?"
new guy looked at the ceiling, thought before he said, "yes."
The guy who asked is in charge.
he wore a dark blue shirt with a badge;
i remember him from the last time...the first time.
He let's the line wait forever, that's who i remember and is dark blue whirt.
the next person in line, a woman, spoke out:
"are you going to let the line continue?"
these are not union volunteers.
the man in charge looked, thought and paused,
then said, "Go. go. go."
i heard the man in charge ask: What color is your car?
in the majority there are only white cars, and grey.
"White". I spun my head around for no reason, i just did.
"the man in charge turned to a girl and said, "when he
comes back tell him he has a white car".
the one telling and the one told are different ones.
so is the one he told.
see how the snow has finished
has yet to melt, but it's over.
walking through my February i see
winter turned the corner.
this is what it looks like at the end.
now after nine a.m. the sun on the glistening snow reflects in a golden light.
i can see it like that.
the crowd is large.
this and that, fat cat, where's your hat?
i looked on the chair ... on the floor ...
on the mat? give me a minute, will you?
Let us chat, shall we?
pat the cat, where he sat. by the bat.
this and that, he smiled.
she tried to smile but had difficulty.
the river runs to the ocean, eventually.
as heavy snow falls.
Texas has a hard time...power outages and freezing temperatures.
blurry snowfall here in northern Ohio.
a few feet. and it continues to fall.
we'll take it easy. see how it, goes.
i don't know how this poor poetry happened.
there were moments when I lost my balance.
words got by me.
all together i'm distracted...we have full-on winter.
snow is to my knees.
i'd bake cookies if i knew how. it's a day for it.
i don't want to read instructions.
and no one needs the sugar.
out of nowhere, started up
blowing lightly, white dots floating by.
makes a pretty morning, still air.
only a breeze with no direction.
growing wind ... north to south.
minus traffic again.
here comes someone walking a dog.
some squirrels, a few birds.
mainly nothing going by
hours pass
begins snowing harder
stops an hour. starts again.
the message is the snow;
keep the weather foot
on the pedal so
no soot, only flakes
dusting piles
of preexisting pounds
weighing on the other day's
accumulation we see,
every where we venture
this day. so we're snowed in
and on. and another foot's
coming
some pieces go together
when you sort them, however
not all fit in any weather
i'm saying cold can be too much
to comfortably fit pieces forever.
like rain can mess you up also.
a clean dry garage is a start for happiness.
so you need a heater. what do we have now?
a pathway to happiness? seems like a shortcut.
be sure to keep good pressure in the tires.
take off your jacket.
leave it on the chair ... the one by the window.
yes, over there.
full is not what i want to be right now, i need to lean up.
i'm thinking warm weather may get me moving.
right now it's writing and thinking. that's filling my time.
and still i've more to do that remains unattended.
publish my book and poems...that way i can see what i have.
i look back and think i need my writing in a heap where i can read it
and see what to edit. to add. are you getting along or just
not thinking about it?
***
look and be filled with poets
all over the place, you see. make a space.
plenty all filing in order, in clover of happiness
what do you expect. now is the season.
get a battery to power your mower.
go moo now.
moo-er, the battery powered electric cow.
drone over for a close look.
moo over the fence.
from whence it came.
chew your green.
stay lean.
dah. deh. dah, dah
dah. deh. dah, dah
play with me, why won't you
stay with me,
i know you really can
take me along, sing our song ...
we'll ride along this way together.
in any weather.
our hearts will sing this song
our song.
looking out upon a winter's
start of morning sunshine.
the color rose blends low on white clouds
and a touch of blue can be seen in the shaded snow field.
looking early with the writer's eye.
the sky is simply empty light blue.
dance my heart for this glimpse
gives me a smile and happiness too.
a few things right.
thanks for help from Meri.
she makes the appointments.
now thanks for the weather...this is winter for crying out loud.
the sun is shining bright morning light;
has a rose/gold tint to the sun waves cast.
when i look in the shade i do see some blue
or suppose i do. that is the artist way of looking.
cold and pretty - that's today. and cold,
you're darn right it's cold. well, good morning
winter in February. now you can settle down
and take the season normally. now six deer
run through our yard, stop and look, walk, then run off.
our family always got together,
grew closer because of her, she's our calendar girl.
in sometime heavy snow.
the two of every February
always a family party and laughter.
never missed her special day.
sure, grandma baked, always frosting on a different cake.
she was the best, groundhogs day. hurray
and grandma has the last laugh. many years have passed,
i'm always reminded of her birthday. ground hogs day
me, the kid, i'm the only one left ... the only one left
happy birthday, i love you, grandma.
storm is over. no more flakes falling,
but it's cold. take your choice, drive or ride.
here to there may be easy if car can get out.
soup and bread sounds right for today
and looking out over white, distant fields ...
sounds like i can hope for.
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?
