oh, bus in the rain
i’m back again, do you hear me
feeling no pain
only a little, look, i’m riding
must be the cold,
i can do dreary, getting old, and consider,
combine that with wet, not complaining yet,
see, like i said, it’s raining
talked to a guy from the Congo
studying on about priestly stuff
when i heard and had enough
got off the bus, lead by pure inspiration
M. said to ask those mechanics three
it was M., them and me
they pointed to a place - across the street
it’s good, they said, where we always eat
and just as i heard them say
was a mighty fine buffet
with prices better
this quick bus ride away, slightly off center
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
open ended conversation
on the radio
some call to say something
others call in
to be heard
walking down the street some talk
on the phone a long time
without pause for the other
is anyone really there?
always there are those
on the bus ceaselessly talking
fogging the window,
and have no phone
some call to say something
others call in
to be heard
walking down the street some talk
on the phone a long time
without pause for the other
is anyone really there?
always there are those
on the bus ceaselessly talking
fogging the window,
and have no phone
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
out styling
walking up a block
on Victtorio Emanuele where ahead is
a woman glowing several opposing colors, long skirt,
shawl, head dress, conflicting designs, and bangles
shoes mainly bright purple
with sparkles and curling trim,
bent low, working on a bag
what is this?
gypsies have gone conventional these days,
disguised away from tradition to blend in
facial features, eyes and hair identify them
surly this throwback must . . .
the woman stands and turns my way
by her face and hair
i she is Italian, evidently a
fashion statement out styling
on Victtorio Emanuele where ahead is
a woman glowing several opposing colors, long skirt,
shawl, head dress, conflicting designs, and bangles
shoes mainly bright purple
with sparkles and curling trim,
bent low, working on a bag
what is this?
gypsies have gone conventional these days,
disguised away from tradition to blend in
facial features, eyes and hair identify them
surly this throwback must . . .
the woman stands and turns my way
by her face and hair
i she is Italian, evidently a
fashion statement out styling
Monday, February 08, 2010
to genial grey shoe man
to genial grey shoe man
again this week, where fifteen euro
resole and re-heel the repentant,
i bid two pair
one pair unaccepted, condemned
to hopeless misery, mine,
sticker them -
caution, for home use only
along the return way
wood man on cobblestone lane
before his shop working a cabinet into being
in greeting for me spontaneously
sang a made up song
i’ll translate - “the situation with my sister
doesn’t go well.”
i laughed out loud
between buildings
slats of sun
dump warmth out of season,
most desirable
again this week, where fifteen euro
resole and re-heel the repentant,
i bid two pair
one pair unaccepted, condemned
to hopeless misery, mine,
sticker them -
caution, for home use only
along the return way
wood man on cobblestone lane
before his shop working a cabinet into being
in greeting for me spontaneously
sang a made up song
i’ll translate - “the situation with my sister
doesn’t go well.”
i laughed out loud
between buildings
slats of sun
dump warmth out of season,
most desirable
Sunday, February 07, 2010
heard a sound
heard a sound
in bed
going round
in my head
thought
it odd
i said
and thought it out
‘til it was gone
turns out
i was right
it was odd
in bed
going round
in my head
thought
it odd
i said
and thought it out
‘til it was gone
turns out
i was right
it was odd
Saturday, February 06, 2010
if you're really Dave
somehow i evaporated comments
for Mr. Hill and woodsmoke
guilty i am - and no wonder,
without a secretary who else to blame?
if you’re really a Dave,
and you’re really an Andy
that makes three of us
who are whom we say.
as world population, now 6.8 billion,
grows a quarter million a day,
though some die, mean growth is steady
and eighty percent live on less that two euros a day
my retired friend used her life savings
to put a down payment
on a small 300,000 euro apartment
and can’t afford a computer, who will cry?
my dear, very crazy, very intelligent friend told me
we're all doing the best we can.
offering recognition now, here's to Julie
do read this heart to love
and, to you all, thanks for reading here
the augmented verse i'll continue to offer
until i’m through.
and you know, i won't be the last
other have said, by God,
it all happened so fast
for Mr. Hill and woodsmoke
guilty i am - and no wonder,
without a secretary who else to blame?
if you’re really a Dave,
and you’re really an Andy
that makes three of us
who are whom we say.
as world population, now 6.8 billion,
grows a quarter million a day,
though some die, mean growth is steady
and eighty percent live on less that two euros a day
my retired friend used her life savings
to put a down payment
on a small 300,000 euro apartment
and can’t afford a computer, who will cry?
my dear, very crazy, very intelligent friend told me
we're all doing the best we can.
offering recognition now, here's to Julie
do read this heart to love
and, to you all, thanks for reading here
the augmented verse i'll continue to offer
until i’m through.
and you know, i won't be the last
other have said, by God,
it all happened so fast
now i am one
times ago when a novice to Italia
went on the road two months,
a touring play with a dozen Italians
coffee together, every meal, every day
coffee in the morning, you say
i can do that, start my day
or so it seemed, so i’d say
yet when it came all was outlandish new
disorderly turmoil, without deviation
coffee with these, the experienced,
weaned by the ages, since the beginning,
habitual action conferred by generations
my patterns needed compromise to function
i watched, i participated, adjusting i learned,
how long it takes, precisely how it is done
many roads that lead to the one
not of my bloodline,
infelicitous and extrinsic
day after day, until now,
now i am one
went on the road two months,
a touring play with a dozen Italians
coffee together, every meal, every day
coffee in the morning, you say
i can do that, start my day
or so it seemed, so i’d say
yet when it came all was outlandish new
disorderly turmoil, without deviation
coffee with these, the experienced,
weaned by the ages, since the beginning,
habitual action conferred by generations
my patterns needed compromise to function
i watched, i participated, adjusting i learned,
how long it takes, precisely how it is done
many roads that lead to the one
not of my bloodline,
infelicitous and extrinsic
day after day, until now,
now i am one
Friday, February 05, 2010
Mr. Hill
Mr. Jack, someone said the other day
my minds eye brought forth Everett Hill,
fragile, thin, gray, well beyond retirement age,
stayed on the job as the sweeper
there was an agreement,
when the old owner/boss retired,
he left word that Hill, as we all called him,
could stay on long as he could push a broom
it was a large city TV station
where a regular evening crew
cleaned the offices, waxed he floors
and took out the trash
when someone would get angry and cursed,
if Hill was around he’d call out
“don’t chew be bitter now, Mickie”, or whoever,
light heartedly he enlightened us
Hill was a daytime fixture
in the lobby, if it seemed interesting
or, in one of two large studios
casually dragging his long handled push broom
our work was in the studio
getting ready, working a show
then putting our things away
Hill was always around, just around
Mr. Jack is what Hill called me
he called everyone Mr. whatever their name was,
the important ones he used the last name
we the workers were Mr. First Names
for as long as he could show up
that was the deal that Hill stuck to, often reminding ,
as he does now working with the heavenly crew,
with a smile and a shake of the head,“now, don’t be bitter”
my minds eye brought forth Everett Hill,
fragile, thin, gray, well beyond retirement age,
stayed on the job as the sweeper
there was an agreement,
when the old owner/boss retired,
he left word that Hill, as we all called him,
could stay on long as he could push a broom
it was a large city TV station
where a regular evening crew
cleaned the offices, waxed he floors
and took out the trash
when someone would get angry and cursed,
if Hill was around he’d call out
“don’t chew be bitter now, Mickie”, or whoever,
light heartedly he enlightened us
Hill was a daytime fixture
in the lobby, if it seemed interesting
or, in one of two large studios
casually dragging his long handled push broom
our work was in the studio
getting ready, working a show
then putting our things away
Hill was always around, just around
Mr. Jack is what Hill called me
he called everyone Mr. whatever their name was,
the important ones he used the last name
we the workers were Mr. First Names
for as long as he could show up
that was the deal that Hill stuck to, often reminding ,
as he does now working with the heavenly crew,
with a smile and a shake of the head,“now, don’t be bitter”
Thursday, February 04, 2010
wood smoke
i split part of a small bottle of Chinotto,
an Italian soda since 1949,
somewhat like coke, but bittersweet
M. and i sat talking and sipping
she said our flower girl, who was eight back then,
this week sent an email saying she saw
Claraville in the Sierra Nevada of California
and our old buildings on Google satellite
thirty years ago we were married amid the pines
on Piute Mountain, when we were young, before
Google, email and we'd ever thought of living in Italy
now flower girl has her own daughter eight
our friends Lonesome Al, Piute Jerry and Cutter Bill
have all gone off to some hidden mountain cabin
reeking of pine, sipping hooch and laughing
i am sure they all are all laughing
now and then, in contemplation, M. and i recall
those rollicking times, warm fires and adventures
precious, pleasant memories all,
filled with friends, long starry nights and wood smoke
an Italian soda since 1949,
somewhat like coke, but bittersweet
M. and i sat talking and sipping
she said our flower girl, who was eight back then,
this week sent an email saying she saw
Claraville in the Sierra Nevada of California
and our old buildings on Google satellite
thirty years ago we were married amid the pines
on Piute Mountain, when we were young, before
Google, email and we'd ever thought of living in Italy
now flower girl has her own daughter eight
our friends Lonesome Al, Piute Jerry and Cutter Bill
have all gone off to some hidden mountain cabin
reeking of pine, sipping hooch and laughing
i am sure they all are all laughing
now and then, in contemplation, M. and i recall
those rollicking times, warm fires and adventures
precious, pleasant memories all,
filled with friends, long starry nights and wood smoke
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
a little sun
a break from the february cold
we're in reprise with good sun
from the window
i confirm fair weather
below, the blue coated white haired woman
over from seaside Ostia on a day trip
teetering along with her elderly daughter
to their smiles i salute with cheery greetings from above
out the door then we encounter Mario
the antiquarian in front of his shop working
a piece of furniture over a pair of saw horses
we nod as he keeps sawing
then Stefano, flakes of white plastered face and clothes,
greets us, he reports that in all of Italy there are
three cases of chicken pox, one of his small children
has it, ready to pass it to the other
high up the lady who walks her two small white dogs
is at her window in the arch
that spread across our tiny street
talking to a neighbor in another window
we say ciao to Franco One
then a step later ciao Franco Two,
both do furniture restoration
in their workshops on this street
Marjia passes next, just back from a month
visiting her mother in Finland
with an imperial salute she reports this high,
snow there is chest high
Marina the ceramic painter crowds through
in her auto, where one rarely comes by
it’s the only vehicle we encounter
in a half-block walk on this cobblestone way
finally, at the corner an old store keeper
sits catching sun in a rocker
her old husband is nearby talking with a friend
we good morning them all
then to the market, the Chinese side of the train station
loading our cart, see a tiny old woman, tall as my waist,
bent forward walking, her sailor’s deck-mop sheep dog grey and
white hair blows ahead in the light wind, and proceeds her
i take the cart the rest of the way home
while M. goes for a free Christmas ball from the Vatican tree, but
returned to report the tree remains dead, decorated and standing
usually it is down by Valentines Day
we have to be there on the day they are taking it down
no notice is posted, we keep checking
as in all of life
timing is everything
we're in reprise with good sun
from the window
i confirm fair weather
below, the blue coated white haired woman
over from seaside Ostia on a day trip
teetering along with her elderly daughter
to their smiles i salute with cheery greetings from above
out the door then we encounter Mario
the antiquarian in front of his shop working
a piece of furniture over a pair of saw horses
we nod as he keeps sawing
then Stefano, flakes of white plastered face and clothes,
greets us, he reports that in all of Italy there are
three cases of chicken pox, one of his small children
has it, ready to pass it to the other
high up the lady who walks her two small white dogs
is at her window in the arch
that spread across our tiny street
talking to a neighbor in another window
we say ciao to Franco One
then a step later ciao Franco Two,
both do furniture restoration
in their workshops on this street
Marjia passes next, just back from a month
visiting her mother in Finland
with an imperial salute she reports this high,
snow there is chest high
Marina the ceramic painter crowds through
in her auto, where one rarely comes by
it’s the only vehicle we encounter
in a half-block walk on this cobblestone way
finally, at the corner an old store keeper
sits catching sun in a rocker
her old husband is nearby talking with a friend
we good morning them all
then to the market, the Chinese side of the train station
loading our cart, see a tiny old woman, tall as my waist,
bent forward walking, her sailor’s deck-mop sheep dog grey and
white hair blows ahead in the light wind, and proceeds her
i take the cart the rest of the way home
while M. goes for a free Christmas ball from the Vatican tree, but
returned to report the tree remains dead, decorated and standing
usually it is down by Valentines Day
we have to be there on the day they are taking it down
no notice is posted, we keep checking
as in all of life
timing is everything
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
in a while
once in a while,
the very while
that occurred
this afternoon
it seemed learning
or along that vein,
had to do with
keeping mouth closed
when then we saw Bruno and Wendy
Wendy’s sister was there too
that’s what Bruno said, and better that i waited
instead of asking if this was Wendy’s mother
their two kids were also tagging along
ages seven and ten
we knew them before they married
not the kids - Wendy and Bruno
the kids we never knew
because they never were
when that ago time existed
once, in a while
the very while
that occurred
this afternoon
it seemed learning
or along that vein,
had to do with
keeping mouth closed
when then we saw Bruno and Wendy
Wendy’s sister was there too
that’s what Bruno said, and better that i waited
instead of asking if this was Wendy’s mother
their two kids were also tagging along
ages seven and ten
we knew them before they married
not the kids - Wendy and Bruno
the kids we never knew
because they never were
when that ago time existed
once, in a while
Monday, February 01, 2010
day watching
day watching each slipping
gracefully along
nearly asleep walking
blinking then away
gone drifting
one moment droplets
in life’s stream, drip passing
to clear dark cool river
flowing steady beyond
lake to locks
becoming roll folding
soft blue oceans
whispers fog again
globe breathing
circling with fishes
gather mists
clouds building grey darker
all above sailing
over birds
on wings of winds
gradually reformed
now droplets
fall again lovely
light rain
gracefully along
nearly asleep walking
blinking then away
gone drifting
one moment droplets
in life’s stream, drip passing
to clear dark cool river
flowing steady beyond
lake to locks
becoming roll folding
soft blue oceans
whispers fog again
globe breathing
circling with fishes
gather mists
clouds building grey darker
all above sailing
over birds
on wings of winds
gradually reformed
now droplets
fall again lovely
light rain
Sunday, January 31, 2010
january emptied out
making notes i am
sorting words, stacking cards
one dog barking
i glance up at dark blurs
some birds boring blindly
misted into running low grey clouds
on the hill above, the Gianicolo,
a cannon fires a wisp of grey into the chill
the city beyond hears the signal and knows it Is noon
we board a bus of content silence, scarves and caps
off for a bite of lunch, our own words begin, blend,
weave and overlap with the others
then a little walking
through the crowds
a lot of talking
don’t hear what they’re saying
making plans I suppose,
some gesturing, pointing
laughing young women
heads together
recount social victories
few small children pulling against their mothers
today many little wrapped ones in blankets
lulled to silence in four wheeled strollers
temperature is dropping
who is content?
some calm hangs poised over complacency
after evening buses slow, then cease
overnight becomes the soundless
when imagination is the only border
sorting words, stacking cards
one dog barking
i glance up at dark blurs
some birds boring blindly
misted into running low grey clouds
on the hill above, the Gianicolo,
a cannon fires a wisp of grey into the chill
the city beyond hears the signal and knows it Is noon
we board a bus of content silence, scarves and caps
off for a bite of lunch, our own words begin, blend,
weave and overlap with the others
then a little walking
through the crowds
a lot of talking
don’t hear what they’re saying
making plans I suppose,
some gesturing, pointing
laughing young women
heads together
recount social victories
few small children pulling against their mothers
today many little wrapped ones in blankets
lulled to silence in four wheeled strollers
temperature is dropping
who is content?
some calm hangs poised over complacency
after evening buses slow, then cease
overnight becomes the soundless
when imagination is the only border
Saturday, January 30, 2010
old Roma does survive
just a Saturday no account bus ride
to keep oiled the well honed skill of passenger
to just the other side of the Vatican sprawl
to the new/old Trionfale Market
home of vegetables and the like
all on the first floor of a new building
where underground is parking
above, space for offices
under control now
gone are the renegades, mud puddles and gypsies
law and order has, if not prevailed,
at least made it’s presence known
saw many stalls
so many,
compared prices
walked till tired
nearby stopped at a lunch place for lunch
food was good
prices were one third - i say a third - of those
in the tourist area
all of it proving, if taken together,
old Roma does survive
if you look
in the corners
to keep oiled the well honed skill of passenger
to just the other side of the Vatican sprawl
to the new/old Trionfale Market
home of vegetables and the like
all on the first floor of a new building
where underground is parking
above, space for offices
under control now
gone are the renegades, mud puddles and gypsies
law and order has, if not prevailed,
at least made it’s presence known
saw many stalls
so many,
compared prices
walked till tired
nearby stopped at a lunch place for lunch
food was good
prices were one third - i say a third - of those
in the tourist area
all of it proving, if taken together,
old Roma does survive
if you look
in the corners
Friday, January 29, 2010
went to the bank
woke with little cash
so went to the stone block grey bank
where green money comes out,
not enough going the other way
the newly installed door into the bank
is see through amber grey space age,
first push a small round steel burnished button to enter
a slender vertical box for one
keep arms and scarves close to your body
in the curved vertical box wait a second,
large size people in heavy coats with large purses
need bank elsewhere
zzzithppp swings a curved bullet proof plastic door
closed, vacumn sealed tight, until after a pause
opens another panel - zzzipp - on the other side
to allow access into bank proper, move quickly
space age, nearly silent the door
hhhhmmmpft it goes behind me
i’m sure some one found a ufo in a field somewhere
and reverse engineered the door
so went to the stone block grey bank
where green money comes out,
not enough going the other way
the newly installed door into the bank
is see through amber grey space age,
first push a small round steel burnished button to enter
a slender vertical box for one
keep arms and scarves close to your body
in the curved vertical box wait a second,
large size people in heavy coats with large purses
need bank elsewhere
zzzithppp swings a curved bullet proof plastic door
closed, vacumn sealed tight, until after a pause
opens another panel - zzzipp - on the other side
to allow access into bank proper, move quickly
space age, nearly silent the door
hhhhmmmpft it goes behind me
i’m sure some one found a ufo in a field somewhere
and reverse engineered the door
Thursday, January 28, 2010
at times we see
at times we see
go by faces we know
somewhere out in the city,
folks from our long ago
strange how it can be
that we run into each other,
intersecting at the right moment,
by chance, without notice in advance
what a nice plan, accidents are
that good kind, the meeting,
the greeting of surprise,
in a fleeting moment of encounter
some leave our life
without a goodbye,
for a quirky reason they are gone
never to cross our way again
it’s no wonder why
and no need to be witty
to know, above all,
that’s life in the city
go by faces we know
somewhere out in the city,
folks from our long ago
strange how it can be
that we run into each other,
intersecting at the right moment,
by chance, without notice in advance
what a nice plan, accidents are
that good kind, the meeting,
the greeting of surprise,
in a fleeting moment of encounter
some leave our life
without a goodbye,
for a quirky reason they are gone
never to cross our way again
it’s no wonder why
and no need to be witty
to know, above all,
that’s life in the city
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
like a daqueri
can't talk fish out of a river
and writing story's another thing
but a few lines i can deliver
with a twist and bit of sting
and writing story's another thing
but a few lines i can deliver
with a twist and bit of sting
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
where goes the Bard of Avon
if there is reincarnation
wouldn’t Will S. make an appearance
seems by now he would
he’d want another go
perhaps a scientist this time
or a grill cook who kept quiet
live solo in a trailer on town’s edge
or as female this go around
how about a sports star
there have been a few greats
maybe a horse racing triple crown winner
and i don’t mean the jockey
wouldn’t Will S. make an appearance
seems by now he would
he’d want another go
perhaps a scientist this time
or a grill cook who kept quiet
live solo in a trailer on town’s edge
or as female this go around
how about a sports star
there have been a few greats
maybe a horse racing triple crown winner
and i don’t mean the jockey
Monday, January 25, 2010
nearly striking fortune
when i was 19, 20, 21 thereabouts
i wrote a song "Milk and Honey
that is where we have been
milk and honey
away from the streets of din"
it was not a hit
in fact, no one liked it
i knew nothing about honey and milk
milk was for cereal
and honey went on graham crackers
never graham factors,
those being factors for determining ambiguity in U.S. patent law
and what was i doing writing about din
when the only din i ever heard of was Gunga Din
i should have been writing about
things i knew like
have you seen my basketball?
i left it in the closet but it isn't there
another near fortune occurred
when i came up with
outerlated insulwear
but couldn't put it together
a definite swing and a miss
i wrote a song "Milk and Honey
that is where we have been
milk and honey
away from the streets of din"
it was not a hit
in fact, no one liked it
i knew nothing about honey and milk
milk was for cereal
and honey went on graham crackers
never graham factors,
those being factors for determining ambiguity in U.S. patent law
and what was i doing writing about din
when the only din i ever heard of was Gunga Din
i should have been writing about
things i knew like
have you seen my basketball?
i left it in the closet but it isn't there
another near fortune occurred
when i came up with
outerlated insulwear
but couldn't put it together
a definite swing and a miss
Sunday, January 24, 2010
ten thousand
ten thousand lives - nay,
ten million and more have seen
light of passing sun and moon and stars
giving this world a try
be it fresh fruit and friends
warm nights and soft breeze
or bitter cold and high winds
starting young, bending like trees
while growing daily older
honor both the day and night
hats off to home and loved ones
work long and hard to get life right
here we stay ready
to go again tomorrow
through life’s cathedral
blessed be the harmony
ten million and more have seen
light of passing sun and moon and stars
giving this world a try
be it fresh fruit and friends
warm nights and soft breeze
or bitter cold and high winds
starting young, bending like trees
while growing daily older
honor both the day and night
hats off to home and loved ones
work long and hard to get life right
here we stay ready
to go again tomorrow
through life’s cathedral
blessed be the harmony
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