laid felt ye same sanome

“laid felt ye same sanome”
i wrote these words,
for years they were on a piece of paper
on the side of my refrigerator
i don’t know what it means
the words sound like something to me
the sounds are the poetry
it’s a chant, a mantra

more words are for my hurt
when i put it out there where it won’t go
i gave to someone who couldn’t give back
saw it coming
knew it all along
fell again
hurt again
should have ducked

that’s enough, for now, for then
in a while i may do it again
that’s what we do
always the ones we can’t have that we go for
the ones that want us, we don’t want

it’s in the past now
yet I recall
this foolish way of youth
felt ye same?

the masterpiece of kin

the masterpiece of kin is cunning
in similarities quick to begin
at times they think the same
grip the same,
gripe the same
walk and talk, dress
and look the same

i remember a family of five brothers
all looked like their father
half again like their mother
a year parted each birth
a revolution of the sun
between each of their worth
enough to get another
one practically
same as the other

not in the name
but in the soul
lies cold truth told
deep somewhere in the whole
where a lonely star hovers
the person slips through
to be their own self
apart from the others

not in the name
but in the soul
lies the whole
deep somewhere

Arrotino

arro rhymes with borrow
arro teen, oh
arro tin o

call it out, sing it out
let it wail in the air
and hang there for all
so they can hear you coming

sing it everyday for thirty years and more
like your father and his,
while pushing your bicycle
with a grinding wheel mounted on top
up and down cobblestone streets of old Roma
then you’ll have the voice of the caller
the sharpener, the arrotino

let them bring their knives down to you
to sharpen on your wheel
call them
the call will richocet off stone walls
echo and carry the cry
into every doorway, every window
they will come
as they have for centuries
arrotino

our times

after food and shelter are satisfied
seek beauty in your life
keep order in your space
everything in it’s place

appreciate the out of doors
complete your chores,
stay within the lines
do your best, enjoy the times

after coffee sunday

after coffee at Isa’s in Trastevere we
had lunch at Giacomo’s and Virginia’s
wonderful mezzo rigatoni pasta in tomato sauce,
I cleaned up her pc while they all cooked

last night Virginia's brother won best
cinematographer at the European film awards,
his son won best Director for the same movie,
the film swept the top five awards

two months ago they won at Cannes
we saw this latest award on the TV news today,
that’s why when we went to Donatella’s Friday
she and Marco and Mateo were in Copenhagan

Every Viewer

sitting in front
of a plastic box
smiling, usefully as a carrot
God bless us Every Viewer

oh, humanity you sure as Hester
got suck-ed-up in a good one this time,
careful now, don’t use up your brain,
you may need it for something later

nxt!

giraffes have the same number of neck bones as humans
nxt, yr nxt
sorry, machine I was just reading . . .
nxt!
make your selection and insert coins in slot
nxt!
give me a minute, i was reading the instructions
out of order!
wait, I put my money in
nxt!
you took my money
nxt!
what is the disturbance here?
oh, nothing, officer, but this machine just took my money
machines don’t make mistakes, come with me, civilian
don’t handcuff me, is that a taser?
pick him up and drag him to the wagon
nxt

bags

nineteen years of collecting, saving,
stashing, borrowing and not returning,
quite a load hidden in a field
plastic bags enough to build
a small water proof home with
attached two car garage

eight thousand year shelf life
stores well without refrigeration
completely inflatable home, need only
figure how to keep it from blowing around
and getting stuck on trees and fences
or perhaps melting in the sun

notes on heaven

cobblestones are laid smooth
with grass growing between,
all rivers shall run clear,
here i noticed the Tevere yesterday
golden brown, like a shiny pie crust,

back to heaven,
if you have to park, the meters will
give you money, all birds and animals
and people speak the same language,
sounds like Chinese but isn’t

i can hold you

down by the river
little children
see us walking
holding hands now
like we’re lovers
we’re just friends though
there’s another,
i’m just hoping
when you’re older
you’ll discover
i can hold you
i won’t let you go
i will love you so.

time is passing
hear us laughing
all together
we’ll deliver,
love and kindness
will remind us
like the river
we keep rolling
i can hold you
i won’t let you go
i will love you so

and we won’t stop loving

Buttons Up and Dancing

walking around
i found myself
looking for buttons on the ground
that’s her thing
she’ll be here soon

on the bus, next to me stood three,
a guy in the middle of two women,
head back, pontificated endlessly
they should’ve left him on the bus
and followed me

walking to the corner, a rash of vivid electric
green grew between the cobblestones
made it harder to see the buttons
she’ll be here tomorrow, and find them
just wait, you’ll see

M and i

M and i get much done,
she does much, i do some
much some, some much
i think i’ll make a sandwich

Din River

he was walking, selling
mediocre prints of nature
we had stopped face to face
near the fountain

he, with the solid cheerful
light of a star about him,
though you wouldn’t suspect from his manner
surely his road had not been easy

when i asked where he was from, he replied Africa
i added “Senegal” as he said it in the same instant,
he put in my hand a porcelain thumb size
elephant, trunk up for luck, a gift, he said

recognizing my nature, he didn’t try to sell me anything
i put some change in his hand for the gift,
because I knew it would help reciprocate
for his time away from his labors

we each parted content, and perhaps in some way
changed for the better, a result of
our brief connection that took us farther along
the din river of humanity

thunder

I woke to thunder,
one powerful, ominous, natural disruption
produced by this planet
and I love it

even when it scares me
makes me shake,
or nearly brings me to tears,
giant bears are wary and they ought to be

no one’s going to blame them
not for fear of thunder
of course, distant fuzzy rumbles are best
and the farther away the better

druthers

reaching for it
not following a prescribed order.
that’s how I like my things,
usually

in Thomas Kincade paintings
little storybook candles glow fuzzy inside,
while in the rest of the picture
it’s the middle of the afternoon.

some love it and some hate it,
that’s why we all have our druthers,
i’d druther do it,
i’d druther not.

like mixed vegetables,
a little of everything,
You takes your picks,
and you takes your chances.

points of order

my winter pockets laden
in good order, or nearly so
to be able to find things
when i want them, in a hurry

learned a new word, wrote it
on a note for my pocket
a shoulder pouch is beyond the pale
for i have tried, but will have nothing more to carry, please

i want it all strapped tightly to my body
hidden behind zippers
never in the back pockets
don’t want to sit on it
must be free as leaping deer through the brush

i make notes as dad did
while he used cigar box lids, among other things,
i stick with folded scraps of paper
yet, do retain some of his old cigar boxes
with scribbled notes as indecipherable as mine
or visa versa, because his were first
i made note of this and put it in my pocket
to extricate later and put to use

wild geese and eagles envy me
for they have no pockets

life's song

what am I doing with life?
there is so much going on,
I know this morning I enjoyed
frying a little breakfast

and hummed a little song
just like I wasn’t on fire inside missing you,
in my life everything was worth it,
it just didn’t last, or take that darn long

hoese warming poem

someone found my blog by misspelling house
which reminded me, my wife was putting
the garden hose away for the winter
and put it into the shower first to . . .

well, I don’t know why she had to do it
but if you knew her you’d know
there’s a reasonable explanation,
it must be a gardener thing

moonlight

moonlight on my hand
woke me up,
this is good
if you must be woken in the night

better moonlight through the window
than waking from
the distant squeaking of
truck brakes

though being near the lake
i could always pretend
the squeaks
are the calls of mating seagulls

change

as it took a while for nature,
changing morning, noon and night,
mistakes while growing happen
before one can get it right

ahead in the distance

thanks Tom
hey, i needed some input, that's why i asked
i'm not making ten cents a word here,
just cranking it out

last night when i wrote to you
it was about ten p.m. i was going to bed
got up now for a second
and right away got on line,
it's four a.m. here in Italy

i think it's seven at night,
last night where you are.
well, it's still Sunday for you in California,
that's last night for me

say, i'll tell you if anything interesting
happens as long as i'm
living in the future anyway
you tell me if you see any
former distant cousins riding wild horses

mousetrap

when the perfect mouse catcher
is complete, here's what i think,
they’ll find another lecher
and all mice declared extinct

when chips are down

on a whim i brought you home,
laughed, devoured you and made a mess,
how silly of me
today, on impulse i retuned to find a new one,
that old bag tickled my fancy,
but clearly is empty

sitting quietly, I see you there looking good
in your eye-catching luminous wrapper,
although, desire now has left me, i realize
i was searching for the old zing, like the first time,
I’m sorry it turned out that way, don’t think bad of me,
let potato chips fall where they may

the key to bored

went to buy a keyboard, maybe,
so far so good, i had a plan,
got lost three times on the metro
right way, wrong way, back again

when i rose up from out of the dark i was lost,
no problem, stay on target, nearly there, found it
nice store, looked around, must be fifty keyboards,
priced about the same, now what?

they all function you would think,
i walked around them, until i got tired,
keyboards all look a like, i’ll think about it,
so why does my wife think shopping’s fun?

Cancelleria in Roma

near the center of old Roma is the
Cancelleria, a tall three story building
owned by the Catholic Church, that
still owns much property in Roma

through most of history they
controlled most all of Rome, the large
building is ivory colored travertine
scavenged from nearby Theater of Pompey

seemingly erected recently, it is the
first building in Renaissance style,
completed three years after Columbus
sailed to the new world, 1495

my friend Cesare used to do furniture
restoration for the building, and got me
in for a peek in the basement, on one
side is a field of scattered human bones

on the far right corner is a large pond,
about modern swimming pool size, a worker
told me they are now have begun restoring
a pre-Christian church found down there

roma metro

like Paris morning rush
didn’t have to hold on
couldn’t move my arms
all could breathe, just not at the same time

canned fish tipped on the side,
stood well, our feet were down and touching
saw Bruce Willis wearing a baseball cap
not tall, but does a good subtle self-satisfied smirk

filing up the stairs with every step in unison
a retreating Sci Fi army,
was lost, and stayed that way
until the crowd and i popped out of the metro

Roma Comathon

twenty-five hundred years
of gladiators, spectators, venders, pilgrims, rovers, jugglers,
flounders, gypsies, immigrants, conquerors, thieves, winos,
the knowing learned, the curious, proper citizens,

the head count
parts of them are all on this bus
plus that imbecile about four rows ahead of me,
traffic jam, don’t worry

Giganticus plows through all
make a hole, I stamped my ticket,
so put the pedal down, i will hang on
can't take it? want to bail out, that's okay

streets under construction,
we detour, but we’ll get to the spot
where the driver takes his break
come hell or high water

new poets

i read the new poets to see what they say 

mine is like ancient but, i wrote it today 

don’t follow new patterns 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

To Stand In The Way

at the grocery store one clerk and two women
stand around a cart, talking in the doorway,
either Dylan’s The Times They Are A-Changing
was not translated into Italian, or they didn’t care

“don’t stand in the doorway, don’t block up the hall” - they do,
they make a habit of it, when tired, they look for doorways.
there is a busy street, heavy traffic, buses, a church
steps in front leading to a two foot wide sidewalk, then traffic.

there, directly in front of the church,
in the center of the tiny walkway
a mature woman stops to dig, dig and dig for
something deep, deep in the bottom of her purse

if i said anything she’d be surprised she blocked the way.
so either i wait and prey in front of the house of God
that she finishes and moves on,
or i can just go to hell and wait there

Spanish Steps Out of Time

Bob is four years older , he had a little jump in time
i bought a fourteen dollar Stella guitar
what’s left is in the trash somewhere, don’t know what kind
of guitar he had, it’s probably in a museum

i listened to classical, Bob listened to Woody Guthrie
a vacationing professor from the Oberlin Conservator of Music
gave me weekly summer voice lessons
Bob may have developed his voice cursing at winos

while i was still singing in the echo of my bathroom
bob was auditioning clubs and walking the streets of new York
my first time on TV was at six a.m., broadcast locally,
Bob’s was prime time nationally on Ed Sullivan

years later in a hot tub in Malibu, our host pointed
out the house below, closer to the ocean - Bob’s house
again later i sold one of my first paintings called Spanish Steps,
the guy said he bought it because Bob wrote a song about them

i sang one of my new songs in a club,
a guy came up and said it was very good but
leave off the long explanation that it was about the Civil War
so you win some, lose some, that’s how life goes, no regrets

now Bob and i are equally on short time,
my songs made some cents, and while i changed my socks,
Bob changed his name, made millions of dollars,
touched billions of people and changed history

i'm happy to salute him. hats off to Bob, Bob Dylan