seventh month

we never called the month by number
although it's recognizable.
the number name emits a flavor.
seems solid.
here's another particular to month seven:
lightening bugs, an all-around favorite.
they too have their season; this one, and we love 'em.
the reason is obvious,
they've come up with
something beautiful and unique.

when they begin to show

they don't sting and they
don't make any noise.
you want to follow them around.

keeping words lined

keeping words lined
to the point, I wasn't sure of
the significance when I wrote those
words until I looked at the cement birdbath
and saw it on the ground.
catastrophe.

no doubt squirrel brought it down,
jumping on the edge. not continuously,
a jump at a time, and hanging on the
side until he brought it down.
i say he because i'm not used to animal talk
where you say which animal without
reference to sex.

the squirrel didn't break, merely upset the heavy dish.
This is living in harmony with animals,
with the animals kept outside.
where they ought to be.
Squirrel especially.

To think a few years ago i fed
one squirrel by hand.
and keeping words lined,
 like you, i don't know what it means.

return

where dream world is,
i keep going

two some from B4

Saturday, November 12, 2011

industrial music please

the industrial music on TV Oh Boy
during wake-up early Saturday morning off-hours
when no sane sponsor would pay a dime to advertise
ergo there was nothing decent to view

we watched until it made us tap our feet in joy
to see new clean shiny bottles passing by,
row on row, on conveyor belts,
endless bottles sans commentary

gleaming bottles galore
whoa, wha’cha watchin’ zombie kids?
watching bottles
passin’ by, nothing to talk about

only that music and bottles on parade
you have to have loved it, or hated it or been mesmerized
here they come empty, watch ‘em now
then full, then lidded – get the lids on will ya

sometimes you tuned in and saw the end
when all those full bottles were
boxed, packed, trucked, then sped away
all to that appropriately endless industrial music.

at Saturday, November 12, 2011 2 comments Links to this post

words and music by jack s.

part decorative wood from Lincoln’s time
half recently constructed stone storage space
all overlooks the economically withering small town and an ugly
car wash across the street, with a coke machine that lights up

i have obtained the three thousand square foot
industrial building to write and play in.

i have embraced this space

have photos and dreams of being there
producing massive amounts of gems.
piles horded and distributed to the urchins

that look like overweight immature vandals;
short people not developed in any sense,
running in wild packs, probably to and from
that elementary school around the block,

and the legends will be created
by slouching legions carrying torches in the night
mobs of outcasts cutting vegetables for soup
blocks away from any used car dealership and

churches with a monument for the saints of another culture, generations ago
that are told in prayers and whispers to salt the wound, would you do that

to yourself or animals unless for cooking?
i'd get a caldron, check if open fires are legal

but they won’t stop me from
dreaming
for all the belching smoke and stench
i can produce in my dream caldrathon

Quiet now

Several spaces are open
for cars, for walking,
for anything you want
because no one is out
doing anything nearby.
the mailman and occasional neighbors
are seen
the sky is a thick grey
full up cloudy,
while we have temperatures locked in the mid-eighties
and all the humidity you can bear.
still, i find the day to my liking.
delightful.
because of the virus there are
not many folk visable.
the internet takes me around,
the radio too.walking in the yard,
seeing the birds, chipmunks,
tracks of the deer
keep me aware.



Gee i say folk in the vernacular
and get leaned on for it.

blank shore

trees were rocking,
sounded like the sea.
blowin' up a storm
right above me.

a lot of power
beyond my reach;
blew hard for an hour,
now let's go to the beach

rain more

this morning pressed in
with packages of gray clouds
filling the sky.
there is no mist.
wind is rubbing tree branches,
making clicking sounds.
 birds some call clearly.

feel the air and wow.
humidity, how you're
grabbing us.
there would be
a smack of sun if big sky
 felt able. but now no,
maybe later.
 we haven't used sun up
so, wait, see how
this day develops.
smile patiently
from your heart.

deer and eagles

we're not in the country

just down the street aways;

enough so when we

look out in the mornings

we see deer now and then

slipping by in quiet hours

with their family.

they have no natural predators

large cats and bear are gone.

in Ohio 184,000 deer were

killed by hunters last year,

the only pretators they have.

when i was young

they were a handful.

now there are 707 bald eagle

nests in ohio.

that was the figure for May.

they're multiplying.

river side

the river i recall
wasn't far at all
from the creeks we walked in
when we talked on
summer days.
 of sweet corn and baseball
and when we'd be old enough
to get a car of our own.
that was just a day cause i know i worked
only thinking this is what i had
my mind on.
the future was too far beyond to consider,
unless it was icecream later in the day,
that i could think, it wasn't far away.
cheers for our summer day.

day's song

starting out warm.
 brief dawn rain.
half the storm hangs there,
half goes down the drain.

flowers, wake and take a drink will you?
take enough to fill you
for today, for today.

2:35

90, humid ... the break
is rain at last ... take your time.
we're ready for wetness.
hear the light thunder
now fading in the background.

rushing leaves with a car going by.
splashing like a dream.
i hear birds calling.
they like the cooling water.

mostly still again.
a crack a thunder broke the silence.
yeah ... and a bird sings

cleaning the mess

morning air fresh
as most any quiet day
as Good as a boat ride
i suppose.
haven't had one for a while;
it's in my head.
just mentioning a float on the water.
while head down she's out there
working in the weeds
making a nest in the grass, practically;
you'd think so anyway,
out there half the day.
if we had some rain to clear
her and the squirrels and chipmunks away.

what can be done? it's only cleaning
the wild away. brush trimmed.
lawn clipped. salvage work
for the yard and her head? you suppose.
it's too cool for me to think too hard about it.
get the warm weather back again why doncha.

June me

last January sure is far away.
now, i've had corn already,.
tasted fine as ever.
where did they grow it?
fields aren't ready round here.
 Hahn, everyone's favorite grower
is retiring. that's big news.
the family has been growing sweet
corn all of my life. the oldest son
died when i was young. the other boys
aren't staying on the farm
.
some nights have gorgeous
stars.
friends are good to recall. '
the best days are fine, and most
summer nights are under stary
skies.
pour out, Ohio beauty,
we can take you in.

light stepping

good shoes, the right jacket.
open land to the end of the field.
cross the piece of woods beyond.
dry weeds crack as you walk
through the short stretch
to the pond. it's morning
and alread.y a pleasant day
is ahead. good sun, light
breeze. sit and listen for a while to the sounds
of the day. a bird or two and
large clouds. enough to make a
full world. make a note: very good
time of day for an easy hike

heats on

waited all winter for warmth

now it's so fine, run the good
by me. i'll stick like glue.

in idle time ...

 looking at Trevi fountain live cam

my bank was around the corner

a minute or two walk away

from the fountain.

i always stopped at the fountain

when i had to go to the bank.

now I've closed my bank account
and returned to america.
i can't walk well enough to get
around. this story is not going
well. so, the days are moving on.
  and i get along with help.

i have to look at it like this.

when the writing is going well

i'm satisfied. how is your head?

heavy sun, no rain

monday is 14 days
after the holiday packed when
folks seemed to forget about the virus
and relax.
so will relapse occur or
seem a joke mistake,
thinkin' it's gone away,
no more than me and you.
how do we figure.
passing the time.
words are clumsey bumbling
waiting to see.
i'll have another long coffee
and watch the sky.

now the weather is a wreck

you can wait, wear a sweater. just
don't think of swimming in the lake,
work on something else will ya.
and remember summer's coming
later this year.
been saying for a month now.
it will be pleasant soon.
corn will grow high,
we'll have breakfast out somewhere.
all the goodness of the season
will leap up in front of us.
what a fine surprise that will be to regard.
i never had a doubt .. a tiny bit, that's all.
with the unexpected virus attack
we've seen a few places closed that
don't look as if they'll ever reopen.
set back a paltry, that's all,
weather probably has nothing to
do with it. hold tight.

Pond wind

the river never still
has movement as a whole.

there is motion,

i see it moving

coming down to the mouth

through the reeds

with the carp, frogs and the lilly pads,

ultimately joining the body of lake

slow rolling toward the ocean

sweet is the wet cool water.

you know how june goes

have seen a few.

Pragna stopped by to compare notes,

we all traded local info

and found out twhat we could.

our best month is here,

and this is day two of it.

we need this month to get

used to perfect.

zoom partied

we did it,

a little difficult, need experience

12 people, that is a guess.

some children too young to count.

wanted to say hi to Lane and Krista,

Meri said Tommy asked me how i was doing.

i couldn't tell,  where was Terry?

Travis from Texas hadn't seen for 22 years.

never got to say hi to him.

hope i said happy birthday to Tommy.

without a moderator confusion reigned.

many faces. session rushed.

couldn't say hi to Dona, too much noise.

Gerry and i communicated the

way old men 75 do,

in a flash of understanding.

getting used to a warm summer days

wearing shorts, until now unheard of.
deliberately a breeze came by...
 drifting, 
and unmistakenly passed with the scent
of field green and wild-flower sweetness

occasionally lifting birds on wing
over singing clusters of bubbles and
trickles from the falls near the pond.