Monday, January 28, 2008

coincidences

the other day meri saw some guy from the 19 tram
that morning she saw him at roccos breakfast place
in another part of the city

many times I have seen familiar faces
on the other side of town
on the same day

a few days ago I had the idea to call ambra from the train
she already was at the next stop
waiting to board our train

she got on at the tiburtina stop
we had a nice talk for a half-hour or so
then she was on her way

there are two and a half million people here, but
I’ve noticed, and so have friends, that you see people
when you don't expect to.

roma is like that

Sunday, January 27, 2008

sunday in roma

With no particular destination in mind we left home this morning and took a bus a few blocks to Piazza Venezia, the historical center of Roma.

We crossed in front where the well uniformed Carbinieri stand watch at the national monument, then walked around the side.
An art show of works by Paul Gauguin was underway at the Veneziana. There was quite a line.

On the side of the monument we started down the walk on the old crude pavement stones. Years ago we were there when tour group was coming up the hill and heard the guide call instructions to his group. Then a a few moments later a member of the group repeated the call to some stragglers “This is a part of the original Roman road, we have two minutes to get on the bus.”

Near the back side of the building we descended a staircase to the old jail where it is said that both Peter and Paul were prisoners and miraculously escaped. There are no signs to indicate this, and as with much of old Rome, you have to know what and where things are.

Then on the back side of the monument we stood over the old Roman Forum that stretches several hundred yards and two thousand years to the Arch of Constantine and the Colosseum. These Forum ruins are what is left of the Rome of the Ceasars. The worn buildings have been stripped and tumbled for centuries and recycled, in part to provide material to build the current old building of Rome.

Much of old Rome remains in the Forum, and today the tourists were about as plentiful as the residents and merchants on a market day of old. Oddly, the population of Rome is about the same as it was two thousand years ago, two and a half million.

Then we walked up and around to the Campidoglio, saw the statue of Marcus Aurelius on horseback and the square that Michelangelo designed to show it off. Today a wedding was taking place at the popular spot for civil weddings.

Then around and up again to a breathtaking terrace view over rome.

“Where’s the camera?” I asked reaching out for it.
”Didn’t you bring it? You were going to bring it.” She said.
“I thought you were bringing it,” I said.
“I charged the batteries, you were going to bring the camera. That’s the last thing you said,” she reminded.
“I asked if you were going to bring the camera.”
“And, you said you were going to bring it,” she said.

Then down, across the street and through the ghetto. A ceremony was going on as we passed. The president of the Hebrew community was speaking for the day of remembrance. The Nazis of World war II will not be forgotten.

We boarded the tram across the Tiber to Trastevere. We tried two different tables at a crowded Italian restaurant that was filled to overflowing with deaf people this day, so we opted to return another day, left and had Chinese food at our nearby regular Sunday restaurant.

Our friend maria met us, and said next week she’d take us to an old Roman eatery nearby.
We had coffee, talked and then returned home at dark. It was a fine day in Roma.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

the blog has

the blog has become a wall to confront
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

i entered the windowless garage;
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

since man’s meager time on earth
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

leaping to a fast first
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

some rainy, foggy, chilly midweek
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

he wrote the songs
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


at Corso Del Rinacimento near the Senate

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 it

another 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 etruscans

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

at sea

at sea we sleep

with the rocking

tilting lapping waters

the hum of recirculated air

the turn of the screws

a ship-moving vibration

that dulls all senses

and becomes dream

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

giacomo canceled and couldn't meet us for coffee
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

another plate engraving or etching
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

here is a tiny a village in the alps near bessans, france.
click on the photo to enlarge. the alps are beautiful.

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