booming

95 and humid a third day.
clouds belly down and booming
at noon, drop a fortune of water;
gardens are not opposed.

heat

the extreme heat of this afternoon
creeps inside where it's cooler
and gets me sleepy
at least for a nap's worth

cell phone dilemma

major red alert,
cell phone is missing -
the pulse of my life line.
gone but not forgotten.

went back where i had coffee.
questioned everyone repeatedly.
most seemed honest in their replies.
evidently i didn’t leave my phone there.

staggered home dejected.
instead of crying right away,
dumped big trash can in the drive.
two cops driving by stopped to watch.

i put it all back,
took a half hour,
searching the sticky mess
a piece at a time.

then brilliant idea
struck like lightening. wow.
i asked the cops to call my cell number
and put it on speakers in their car.

if the rat face sleaze at the coffee place answers
i’ll recognize his wheezy, whiny voice.
from the squad car they let me dial,
misdialed my cell number several times.

chatted with interesting people,
talked longer with the nice ones
a few wrong numbers were angry,
cops were growing impatient.

i suggested, “Lend me a dollar, i’ll call
for a medium pizza, split it three ways,
if you drive us to pick it up.”
cops were unhappy.

head down, i kept dialing.
finally got the right number.
two seconds later
my pocket rang.

a.

tumble and never fall
clouds do

b.

i hate cloud poems
with the word fluffy in



.

wellington

Wellington, a forgotten town
a line drive 22 miles east of Norwhere
where 18 crosses 58...
the heart of nothing special but goodness.
an old, tin-pressed ceiling cafe is large, welcoming.
no music, no TV, the hum is locals talking quietly.
cheery Karen from the other day seats us.
glassed in, on the corner over coffee we view
big-rig, cross-town traffic,
the action at the center of the berg.
sipping, we decide how to take two eggs
with two pancakes...too early
for too many decisions; no rush,
all is well...in Wellington

every 17 years

near Shiloh
The other day we heard them...
like crickets, over the hill somewhere.
I pointed so she would know
what hill they were over.

M said,"Those are locusts. They live in the
ground and come out every seventeen years."

I really glared at her. "I know that...
do you think I'm stupid?"

She paused, looked toward the hill,
then said, "That's a dumb question."

open window

slept by an open window,
dreamed poetry
until sunshine ran over it
and left me plowed.

good day, some say, sometime;
sunshine, here's to you
from the bottom
of my heart.

dream from where

often i have dreamed poetry,
a few words, an idea.
when writing poetry every day
my dreams were poetry ideas,

then in the morning
i'd write from those ideas.
last night i dreamed mdf: 236748,
mdf: 566924, mfg: 73479

there was a paragraph space
then another series of letters and numbers.
i had a page of these letters and numbers
all single spaced and

still sleeping i noticed what i was reading.
it was a print out i had been reading;
after a bit of time i was still sleeping when
i noticed what i was reading/dreaming

don't know what it was
but when i woke i remembered
this strange dream
and wrote it down.

the cart

Walking into Walmart
I put my cane aside when
a mysterious voice said,
"Use the cart, Luke...use the cart."

dandelions are

dandelions are
good; so very, very good.
good wine, they're edible,
bright in spring, rich in
vitamins A, C, iron and calcium,
health benefits include
relief from liver disorders, diabetes,
urinary disorders, acne, jaundice,
cancer and anemia; also for
maintaining bone health, skin care
and as a benefit in weight loss;
they're cheery to look at,
and naturally, people want to kill them
so double-damn bad.

a half hour down to Shiloh

M was inside getting plants
i was standing by the car
an old man in jeans, jacket and straw hat came out.
we talked a few minutes about
the good spring weather finally here,
the noisy storm we had last night.
i told him we lived in noralk, in town,
about here to that buggy behind the fire department.

he went on down to his buggy
an old woman wearing a long dress and bonnet
came out and joined him.
they turned the fine horse around
and began to leave.
as they passed by,
he and i wished each other a good day,
and they rode away.

big maket

m went into the store,
i waited in the car, reading, window open.
many people walking in the lot,
heard this constant, serious, deep-voiced, hushed monotone.
an older guy a short distance away,
standing between two dark cars,
ball cap on, talking, shoulder up,
neck angled, holding something to his ear,
speaking into this brown,fuzzy thing,
like a cover so i couldn't see the phone,
his eyes darted ahead and around.
an undercover job going down?
heard his voice, couldn't make out the words,.
waited for the swat team to drop from the sky.
after ten minutes nothing happened.
then i saw ball cap guy is holding
a small, fuzzy dog to his ear,
and never shut up.

safety first

they have barricades on bridges
high enough so driving over
you won't look at the water
and drive into the river

so why not up and down the streets of towns
don't they erect walls on each side
so bright colors on fancy-dressed manikins with new shoes
won't cause you to make a right turn
and drive over parked cars, through the store windows?

Paul Simon

Paul Simon you wrote the
words and melodies for so many;
and today I woke with one your songs
dancing in my head, smiling inside me

The Cleveland Orchestra

The New York Times declared
"America's most brilliant orchestra"
in Oberlin's Finney Memorial Chapel
the most extraordinary
Cleveland Orchestra

filled us with music;
sweet, clear and precise.
we gave them attention,
they gave to our hearts.

code red

how many passwords
are in my head?
keep scrambling
code master

uncertain

here is april in ohio
when alternate days of snow and rain do bring
weather still uncertain
if it's winter or it's spring

sometime skys are like that

look at them, rolling rain-heavy dark clouds,
a giant, scattered stripe in the east
across a blue sky background.

she wanted to take a picture
was driving, so she pointed instead.
i looked and remembered.

low sun, long fields
a wow to see
this good Ohio morning.

coffee and i see

coffee and i see
the day before yesterday's snow out the window.
silent as all get out;
a nothing special morning...
that's what makes it special.

winter lake walk

beige lake, movement in gray
sparkling streaks on surface,
few white gulls, under wing makings dark blue ,
held on the wind, banking, dipping like kites.

winds hum...a hollow sound
over golden fields, under azure sky
tops of passing cars are seen beyond fields
low clouds trimmed in gray, follow in a line like a train

small voice of child passing, marching behind dad
infrequent words spoken - sunny, cool
few blowing leaves, short cropped fields
thin woods, brown trees, little shade

still, cold

still, cold,
third day in ohio
january ending
expecting weather like winter

three minutes in the store
in shiloh, m shops
i'm waiting in the car, making notes
shopped a swiss mocha to drink

cool out, do doubt
morning on a bright sun saturday
what a day - so clear
between snows

birds

among my favorite life forms
are birds - in an out, on their way;
no time for exchange with me.

they have agendas that can be
loosely categorized as seasonal behaviors:
young meet, maybe dance a bit,
never socialize with in-laws, mate, build nests
keep the eggs warm, bring food for the kids
instruct them on living; to hunt and peck,
gather food and head south for the winter.

when I'm around they land on the fence
check me out, then go,
not a deep relationship to build on.

to their credit: you know, they
never, ever, have a worried expression on their face;
no lips could be the reason.

eyes are open (have three eye lids)
blink fast and do their things.
their big plus is: wings -
they sure can fly.

a northern hemisphere poet

A Northern hemisphere poet i am
in winter cold, summer heat,
  technology has taken my words around the world
i'll remain where i was born.

in january snow, frozen water
april showers, colorful flowers;
spring off to summer heat
fall leaves golden, falling, crackling,

thanksgiving then christmas
'til the end of the year
when begins another.
short days to long ones.

good sun, wobbling earth
summer for baseball
winter for snow balls and ice skating -
cycle long and short days.

when hundreds of years asleep at near light speed
to another planet, new ways to learn;
leave me the old fashion ways
in days i know...where i'm from.

through the silent halls of time
i'll take mine as i know them;
now before you go off in a flash,
one thing, please, take out the trash.

Norwhere where

the lake is a pond, half-mile long,
sans clouds,wind, birds or fish jumping.
mid-afternoon reflects trees on the opposite side
a slight blur of red and blue in light haze sky.
still the water, absolutely
this beautiful prewinter day
quiet, lovely as can be, i say.

sunshine is
relatively quiet

so is moonlight

come on, dogs

come on, dogs, get up
you are needed to work today
to fill the spaces on the line
assemble good order

no surprises
be kind to all around you
and slave, dog, slave
like every day

you are wanted to glue everything together
keep it running.
run dogs, run.
lick your ears on your own time

organize

i told m. i was organizing my poems, notes and writings;
she pointed to the kitchen and said
she was going to turn old coffee grounds
into gold coins.

what it ought to be

In the shade of the sun
on the porch today

after a back and forth summer for decent weather;
now it is here – warm and pleasant.

Sitting, comfortable, enjoying
what summer ought to be.
dance with the sun

11 June, 2015

Outside the country store
not many sounds
a car, a shopper
distant birds, chickens.
not much going on this Thursday morning;
good June sun, still air.
smells of summer, over all.



re. the above
We drove the quiet road straight south twenty minutes to get there, where we call - in the country. The Amish area.
Quiet and peaceful, a warm summer day. There were bird sounds I didn't recognize. I was standing in the sun by the car waiting for M to pick up a few things when this scene appeared before me, for me. Then and there I was in the middle of it, just looking around, happily for a few minutes when I realized, then and there, this was the good stuff of life. I wrote it down then to preserve it.

spring collection

for the season here's a collection of words for Spring.


spring off

as Ohioans we are accustomed to temperature extremes
i remember my mom telling me that in 1937 it snowed on
the fourth of july
weather change is the wild goat that lurks before it charges
now this year spring is May
we can go ahead and pencil it in

after winter's farewell snow
on gusty winds entered the warmer air with a
deep blue sky as backdrop for mammoth clouds tumbling fair
unleashing lawns, trees, bushes and flowers, nesting birds and buds
fresh and underway
nature reborn
this new season has begun

you can water golf courses and keep them pristine
but it's nothing, nothing like the clean
gleam of full young spring

spring arrived
wore my big coat the other day
spring arrived just yesterday
it blew in on silent wings
and hovered above the neighborhood
before wrappinig down around us

now it's hot, in a t-shirt today
i heard the boys call outside playing
there are green buds
and singing birds nest building

it's sometimes still winter
after the snows melt
but i'm sure
it's steady spring at last
when i leave a window open

the shallow cove

the shallow cove narrows
by brushes and thickets
our old row boat sparkles
under sunned running waters

when spring floods the low lands
all return and rebuild
for memories run deeper
than fat fish go up stream


spring to chaos

spring to chaos
stuffed with energy
here to the brim, back again
carried by people
in sighing light wind
laughing brght colors
leaping over piazzas
honking from buses
blue shadow and makeup
wine served with pizza
the short-skirted on mini-stilts
tap-tap clicking down old alleys in heels
checkered cloth and waiters
bells chime the hour
to the cobblestone sun
coffee at outside tables
amid smiling faces
talk a lot


folly of spring

here i am, there are no geese.
must i go looking
in the usual places
where they congregate,

i don’t think so;
they can wait
and better they do,
a lesson for them all.

they know only their own reflection in the lake.
if they can recall other than their own image,
let them vent their wings and
see if they can find me.

a walk on the pier will show me many fish,
occasional mouth open bobbers and long swelling floaters,
but i don’t want to encounter any geese;
not that way, not today, not yet anyway.


root spring

from roots deep we spring
as child with family and pets,
friends, cousins, uncles and aunts.
in school and holidays, we grow

a spinning maze
overlapped and interlaced
in motion. when in a flash
we're old and recall gone days

then in a breath
we are back
to where are
our roots





after winter's farewell snow
on gusty winds entered the warmer air with a
deep blue sky as backdrop for mammoth clouds tumbling fair
unleashing lawns, trees, bushes and flowers, nesting birds and buds
fresh and underway
nature reborn
this new season has begun