Saturday, January 26, 2008
the blog has
some is italy and some is me
i wake up swimming in it
sea to si'
which poetic voice to use
something old or something new
what do you want?
what to do?
a friend wants to know a good place to eat
and all of roma pops up in front of me
i’ll come up with an answer when I see him
but for now it’s business as usual
meri and i went to lunch at Pasquali’s
sat the common table for the locals,
the citizens of roma, the head count.
how good can lunch at a family hole in the wall be?
saturday and the cook knows us
red pasta and a half liter of red
as good as it gets
then an electric bus home
presto, that's italian
that sounds like it means
Thursday, January 24, 2008
i entered
then gave attention to a sun-fraction
that gleamed on my eye as i stood
stolen from a somewhere frozen january dream
falling attentive to the intense stream
that poured into this darkened space,
my mind made mention to air dust
rising liquid white-tinted in the beam
from an up-high hole in the wall
came the length of light shooting,
blowing across my winter illusion
smokey air that swirled like snows
i took a prism from lying around
to hold the glass in the white falling
this caught-broken beam, interrupter of dream,
sans sound, played a colorful serenade scene.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
since man's
a period quite concise
we’ve sought to find our collective worth
and never are precise
it seems that none who’ve suffered birth
have been able to entice
knowledge to enter at full girth
or, to take one’s own advice
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
cell phones
the italians took off with cell phones
use and abuse
they were hooked
everyone had one
and used them all the time
everywhere they’d go
in restaurants, stores, on the buses, in their cars
wandering in trances on foot up and down the street
crowding in groups of three or five or six
they’re all on the phone
or stopping one at a time on the sidewalk
waving hands and explaining something
it looked crazy, a mania
and for all the talking
all the talking
everyone talking
you’d think the world would change
and perhaps it has
italians have achieved the highest cell phone rates
in europe
realizing it
as suddenly as it began
they are now talking less
Monday, January 21, 2008
the buffalo
when secretaries call in sick
and postmen wear goulashes
go to the zoo and take in what’s left
splash along the water-covered concrete
past occasional trees bent, looking away
from the wind’s lick
see the muddy, mucky, peanut-shelled patch
where there stands the buffalo
knee-deep, with dirty, unkempt, matted hair
his eyelids closing out the drizzle
shoulders that held up america
clothed the indians in a montana mountain snow
fed starving wagoneers not quite to the promised land
mark of the plains
symbol of an era
it is fitting that he be visited
for his eyelids are closing now, america
Sunday, January 20, 2008
lost him in the sun
played and sang them
with incredible american spirit
I’m grateful for
brief contact and
hold longstanding admiration
for all this great artist of our time has given
thank you, john stewart
i had the good fortune to speak briefly with john in ’65
at the north hollywood’s palomino in ’77
and the in the early 90’s in mill valley
where i didn’t know, but she told me,
it was buffy’s mom I gave a ride home in my ‘52 chevy truck
john, it was influential to have heard
your songs calling out to me
the lonesome picker has died
long live his memory
where the chilly winds don't blow
for every daydream believer
Saturday, January 19, 2008
to home
with motorinos parked on both sides
and a lot of people, young and old, about on the narrow street
i began walking the few blocks home
i didn't hear the car come up behind me
or turn to look
as it sped past inches away
cabs, buses and four or five motorcyles
rocketed by as I crossed near the crosswalk
through the confusion
looking straight ahead
noise, movement
life in the city
everyone has their space
and uses every inch of itanother train
again to Orte, an hour north of roma
this time to look at a house the church is selling
two apartments, one each floor
and a basement, 500 meters squared
not your typical home
ancient, interesting, particular
the basement goes down three levels
with a dozen winding caves, wine press, a well and tunnels
all dug by hand into the rock
dating back 2600 years
by the etruscansThursday, January 17, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
are you now, or have you ever
one of the great things about night
is that it gets dark
think about it.
it even cools down at night
it’s like a time out
let’s keep it that way
back in ’02 vienna, austria was the first place in the world
to pass a law about light pollution.
the people who passed the law must have bitched as much as i do.
have you seen a photo of earth from space?
it’s lit up like a christmas tree
don’t get me wrong, I like free light. It’s great to have your house lit up and not have to pay for it.
but not with a street light shining in at all hours
who wants to be able to read the small print in the phone book in bed with the lights off?
so I wake up early - four or so
bad guys should do that
then sit quietly alone
they’d cause less trouble
and quit going to meetings where there are flags, banners or emblems
and don’t take any oaths
i like to sit in the dark.
when a light is on do the cops drive by
and wonder what’s going on in there?
“jack, there’s six guys in military fatigues and flack jackets in your laboratory taking all the lids off your paint cans.”
i heard that old people got up at night
but I’ve always done it
trouble sleeping?
no trouble at all
i like getting up when it’s quiet
even the dogs are asleep
the good thing about kitties is that they don’t bark
ever
and you don’t have to follow them around
with a plastic bag
we have a neighbor dog that gets up to pee
at two in the morning and then barks once to be let in
that’s cute
unless I’m sleeping with the window open
one bark and I’m up
light pollution and dog pollution
I like animals that are vegetarians
And totally biodegradable
headache, neuritus, neuralgia?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
sunday in trastevere
he lives just up the street on san francisco ripa but
it started raining and he can't carry an umbrella
on crutches
someone opened a car door in front of his
motorcycle a month ago
he broke a leg
to get out of the rain
instead of going into the restaurant
we waited inside santa maria in trestevere
for our friend maria
then had chinese food
when she arrived
and passed a good time
http://www.sacred-destinations.com/italy/rome-santa-maria-in-trastevere.htm
Saturday, January 12, 2008
orte
we rode an hour north by train to grey, stone Orte
built high atop a hill in 1300 and still intact
on quiet turning, odd angled streets the gentle bus man
told us of a restaurant just off the main piazza
each step revealed a scene to paint or photograph
the eating spot was quiet, provincial and well appointed
in a tired, sophisticated country way
we each had different tasty local pastas with red wine
after, coffee at a traditional bar, filled with locals
then took refuge in a somber old shelter built in a wall
and awaited ten minutes for the local bus
then caught a train in the rain back to roma
Thursday, January 10, 2008
aquaforte engraving
this is my sixth year of doing them
this one, called "the builders",
was done on a zinc plate about five by seven inches
if you make an error it shows
you can't erase
a wax coating is applied, then scratched off the plate
then dipped in a 75% solution of nitric acid, cleaned,
inked and printed on paper that has been soaked
in water
it is a slow process of planning, preparation and execution
one at a time is printed
click on the photo to enlarge
a snowy day
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
tram ride
Four young italians on tram 8
were laughing and taking photos
of the back of a mans head
riding on the tram.
(not just the head –
the whole man was riding on the tram)
The elderly balding man
had a five cent piece
stuck on the back of his head.toward home
turning toward home
i walk collar up, huddled in random, quiet thought
amid the turmoil of cobblestoned old roma
tempered by the ages
of michelangelo, bernini,
shelly, keats,
and fellini
“oh, marcello” laments sophia
these weary streets are covered by now silent footsteps
put down through the ages
between some dusted grey buildings
nearly black, unattended
or vulgared in dashes by modern signage
how swiftly leaps time
day and night swing over
venders, thieves, beggars
in alleys
swarmed with map-clad tourists
while around thunder large buses and sirens
and all passersby suck exhaust
above are broken shutters, some missing
weather worn graffiti scratched in stone
potted plants on high-railed private terraces face the sky so as to look away from it all
core of me
the dentist says my tooth has a crack in
So its going to happen
extraction
another tooth is goin’ away
i’ve lost a few already
like someone who loses a limb and still has feelings in it
could this tooth be the core of me
maybe they’re all wrong and my brains are in it
the very core of me
yank it and I’ll be gone
wait and see
Sunday, January 06, 2008
the last to know
so i have a bit of disability
but i thought it impaired only my disposition
(i never read the instructions)
with confidence, courage and meri
we went to a week long ski place in the alps of bessans, france
it was more like Curly, Larry and Meri
(i was Curly)
and it was not actually a "week long" ski place
because it was still there when we left
should i start over?
okay
so we went to this place where
i dug, ground and pushed my face into the snow and ice
more than necessary
but it was fun, of a sort
my friend Max, one of the ski instructors
took me out of the beginners class in the first minute
and put me into the "absolute beginners" class
so i'll tell you -
those frenchies ski a lot.
we saw this kid about five doing a down hill
then fall flat backwards
AND THEN HE BENT UPWARD AND KEPT GOING!
he was down about one second
i saw a friend fall and got up in about three seconds
when i fell
i laid there a while and thought about things
like - what time is lunch?
where was i? the place looked familiar
in a white and snowy sort of way
i had long wooden stick-things tied onto my feet
how could i position them to stand up?
it took about five minutes to get up, everytime
sometimes i had help
sometimes i took the help down with me
wanna help?
i don't know if they will let me come back
i think i am on a list somewhere
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
the true cross
constantio teotedesco of romania/transylvania
was applying guma laca to an old piece of furniture
and making it shine like a collector’s garage-kept ’57 buick
this other guy was making in-laid wooden clothes hangers
and i asked why
he said he was doing it for the fun of it
cause no one buys them
i asked his name
and he said Cruccia
the italian word for clothes hanger
i asked if he was joking
he thought i wanted the name of the thing he was making
and i finally got his real name, eugenio
i wasn’t sure if he was kidding
because it sounds like the italian word for genius
but is eugene
it’s tough being a foreigner
passing through, among friends
in a little workshop in roma
secret love
i love clocks
they keep on ticking
and isn’t it amazing
time doesn’t exist
oh, time is here, we made it so
and you’d better not be late
cause that’s bad,
I know, I know
despite universal laws and regulations
I like clocks anyway
every time, anytime
cause they keep ticking and ticking
wealth revealed
Thursday, December 06, 2007
laboratorio
from my lab, looking out.
that's our 12 year old geo in the reflection
50 miles to the gallon
good ole geoie
below your will find the objects from the bessans photo blown up. if i could run picassa any better they'd be big as a house, but i couldn't transfer them larger. take it from me, they don't look like smudges on the camera lens. they are three cornered things put together to form different shapes.
smudge my butt, that's what i meant to say to my contact with expert credentials.
back to the painting. it's acrylic on canvas.
i'm putting together a web site. let's say several of us are.
not to sell art or poetry, but to put it out there, cause i think it is time for the world to enjoy things, to appreciate the beauty in the world.
i live in rome most of the year
even here the new age has overrun the beauty of the ages
i have hope the wheel keeps turning
and like a wave there are highs and lows
give all to love
patiently trod
smile when you can
do the best you can
sun goes up
sun goes down
the good times
will come around
so now a guy calls - just now
he found my name in the rome phone book
because he found a telecomando, or a device to open a gate
it had my last name and the first three numbers of my voip phone on it
but it is a device to open a gate and i don't have a gate
and my last name is the only one like it, of the six million names in roma
he found me, but it wasn't my thing he found
my last name is Sender and it could mean the device was a sender
the numbers?
incomplete, but they almost meant something to me
like the story of roma
incomplete
and i'm not sure what it means to me
maybe that's why i'm still here
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Bessans, France
friend. "This is good, Walter. Most interesting. Enlarge the photo and look carefully. Do tell me,
you were there, what are those two things in the sky?" I wrote.
He replied, "Birds."
Then I saw a third thing in the sky and a possible fourth, above and to the right of the one on
the left. The entire file contained about a hundred photos, both indoors and out. I checked
them all again. This was the only one with smudges that caught my attention.
After a short while my friend wrote again, "Winter. Where do these pictures come from?"
I wrote back, "I think you took it. It was on a cd you sent me from your trip to Bessans,"
Then I knew he had accidentally photographed swamp gas.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
the return of blackie
Beginning in the spring we have a lot of birds in our yard. My wife likes to keep the bird bath clean for them. The cardinals have their own bath they prefer to use, while the other birds use the community bath. There are robins, sparrows, doves, starlings, cardinals and blackbirds. We bought peanuts for ourselves and threw a few to the birds because it seemed the friendly thing to do.
While other birds didn’t pay much attention, one black bird in particular loved the peanuts. After just a few days it was apparent that the free peanuts got to be a habit for this black bird. He’d come around everyday at the same place for a tasty peanut. Only a short while later we had named him Blackie, our favorite bird.
It would have been nice to have a colorful cardinal, or even a blue jay as a favorite, but the other birds remained aloof. The best we could attract was our new feathered pal, the solo blackbird
That summer a lot of birds came and went through our yard, but only Blackie was a regular that we could identify. The robins had children and hung around teaching them to dig for worms, and the doves walked around in pairs. But, Blackie made a noise to attract our attention. We talked to him and he would fly in for his peanut.
In the fall, most birds migrate south for the winter. Only the illusive cardinals stay year round.
One day The following summer, when my wife was working on the side of the house she heard a black bird squawk. She looked up and said, “Blackie, is that you?” It was. She went around to the other side of the house where we used to feed him and he followed, and took up his usual position at a particular spot on our fence and waited for his peanut.
My wife and I were happy to see the old wanderer and enjoyed the surprise visit for a second year. Through out the summer Blackie was a regular, and became friendlier and calmer with our presence.
The third summer he returned again. Now he would fly to our back porch and I’d sit in a chair and put a peanut on the small table and he’d hop onto it and take his peanut. Now we had a pet.
By the end of that summer he was taking peanuts from my hand, still a wild bird, but happy to play the routine of entertaining us for his peanut.
Most every morning Blackie would be there. We’d look out and see him on the fence, and as soon as we came out with the peanuts he’d fly over and take one.
Many blackbirds were living in a wild an area a mile south of our home. Each morning they’d fly over and head to the farmers corn field where they’d feast for the day, then return in the evening.
The following year the farmers had complained and the city burned the wild area where the birds rousted. No longer did we have flocks of black birds passing over head. Blackie had moved on with his friends.
May rushed by with no sign of him, we wondered if he died, relocated with the others, or went off to make a family. Then in June he returned, and this time he brought a younger bird with him. We called it Blackie Junior. This was the fourth year in a row for Blackie on our fence. The same spot, the same routine of squawking and waiting for his peanut. Unbelievable, four years in a row we had Blackie as a guest. We only saw him a few days that year. His son never a taste for a peanut.
The fifth year there were even fewer birds around. May and June passed without a sign of him. Then at the end of July, when we had all but given up hope, he returned.
It was a quick stop. He must have been living farther away, but he made his appearance, did the squawks and the peanut grabbing routine, then flew back to the fence. I swear he looked back at us before he flew off, and that was it for Blackie’s visits.
We still look for him, or son of Blackie, but now he is only a pleasant memory, yet we still keep our peanuts ready just in case.