a man seated at an outside restaurant table,
in sport and open collar shirt,
was sipping a cappuccino.
noticing him reminded me the pre-Chrismas weather's fine.
as we circled the center of Rome,
where only yesterday a forty foot tall
red and mostly white paper mache
inverted cone was prominent on display,
we had debated briefly about what it was,
and why it was there
where the holiday tree usually sits,
and wondered who came up with that idea?
has it gone now to where decorations go,
though always after the holiday,
not three weeks before,
not the day after it was put there?
someone else had noticed the strange cone,
someone with an influential voice in the city,
and must have concurred with us, it didn't work,
it looked absolutely stupid.
a voice spoke, “take it down.”
and probably advised,
“don’t ever try anything
stupid like that again.”
and is sipping a capuccino at this time
at an outdoor cafe,
wearing a sport coat and open-collar shirt
while fuming much less and enjoying the holiday season more.
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
Saturday, December 03, 2011
joy
joy in discovery of a photo forgotten,
from a church dedication, now bygone,
far back erased from our town.
featured is the crowd of spectators.
revelers clad in celebratory finery. captured
in black and white and grays; note the hats and horses.
you can feel their thoughts. they are in their eyes,
neat and clean. there must be light talk and music.
subtle, wonderful celebration is captured on their faces;
all stand firm in time, in their places
on a now forever bright fall day ago.
they are forever to remain satisfied.
from a church dedication, now bygone,
far back erased from our town.
featured is the crowd of spectators.
revelers clad in celebratory finery. captured
in black and white and grays; note the hats and horses.
you can feel their thoughts. they are in their eyes,
neat and clean. there must be light talk and music.
subtle, wonderful celebration is captured on their faces;
all stand firm in time, in their places
on a now forever bright fall day ago.
they are forever to remain satisfied.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
vegan wagon
night dark on a curve
fell off the vegan wagon,
toppled it, let it skid down the hill
over the falls, disappeared in the rapids.
last seen breaking up,
heading downstream,
sails up while under
a full head of steam.
wasn’t my fault.
collided with a
sweet scent
at the fair.
wouldn’t buffalo you,
nothing was fare.
like love, babe,
you just had to be there.
fell off the vegan wagon,
toppled it, let it skid down the hill
over the falls, disappeared in the rapids.
last seen breaking up,
heading downstream,
sails up while under
a full head of steam.
wasn’t my fault.
collided with a
sweet scent
at the fair.
wouldn’t buffalo you,
nothing was fare.
like love, babe,
you just had to be there.
Master of Hah!
jack of all trades
all of my life
i am writer, actor,
musician and artist
friends have said,“you can do everything”
to these i say Hah!
don’t ask me to do your dental work
or adjust your brakes.
so goes life,
you get what you see.
though, i have been a doctor -
played one on TV.
all of my life
i am writer, actor,
musician and artist
friends have said,“you can do everything”
to these i say Hah!
don’t ask me to do your dental work
or adjust your brakes.
so goes life,
you get what you see.
though, i have been a doctor -
played one on TV.
flaps down
one night in Arizona heading home
after dinner at Tony’s
the commander driving us
through the mountains . . .
he floored it to pass
we went heads back in our seats,
I asked then, “Tom, you miss
flying those PBY’s, do ya?
and we all laughed well,
ah, yes we did.
now we pause to remember
our time with the Commander.
after dinner at Tony’s
the commander driving us
through the mountains . . .
he floored it to pass
we went heads back in our seats,
I asked then, “Tom, you miss
flying those PBY’s, do ya?
and we all laughed well,
ah, yes we did.
now we pause to remember
our time with the Commander.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
miracle banana
on the internet a picture of a face
on a banana. some speak of miracles
others question the face
of john the Baptist.
why no beard?
others explain he
was only about twelve or thirteen
when this banana was taken.
on a banana. some speak of miracles
others question the face
of john the Baptist.
why no beard?
others explain he
was only about twelve or thirteen
when this banana was taken.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
words unspoken
mystic words unspoken
scribbled out in haste
placed in a box
the lid down tight
all were not thought about
until today when, as the plane took me
over the patch work quilt leading to Philadelphia,
suddenly recalled those fragments
not entire to be called poem
so no one under the wind will recognize
precisely what those pieces are
until i weave patches together
scribbled out in haste
placed in a box
the lid down tight
all were not thought about
until today when, as the plane took me
over the patch work quilt leading to Philadelphia,
suddenly recalled those fragments
not entire to be called poem
so no one under the wind will recognize
precisely what those pieces are
until i weave patches together
Monday, November 28, 2011
the still life
walked by one of mine
stopped to straightened it
in pause i saw
captured in arranged space
the shelf and wall
with objects irregularly lined,
positioned with care
as painted there
in restful scene forever.
working the morning hour
every day for less than a week
to collect the relative same natural light
before the sun moves and light changes.
in reflection of colors,
a recreation of the space,
this representative reproduction
as I see, as I do
within time available
a man makes art
then hangs it on the wall
stopped to straightened it
in pause i saw
captured in arranged space
the shelf and wall
with objects irregularly lined,
positioned with care
as painted there
in restful scene forever.
working the morning hour
every day for less than a week
to collect the relative same natural light
before the sun moves and light changes.
in reflection of colors,
a recreation of the space,
this representative reproduction
as I see, as I do
within time available
a man makes art
then hangs it on the wall
Sunday, November 27, 2011
why you need poetry, or poe what?
twisting slosh clobber
ten thousand splashing waves crashing,
screaming into the face of the wind .
looking over i see the noise is emitted by
a kid at the next table eating breakfast cereal
daily bread
do not donut
why not
pilgrims cry
George M. Cohan sang
sailing, talking, running
for the long song
and that’s the short of it,
it’s all about the wind.
why do you need poetry
connected and rhythmic?
are you going to dance to it, or
lie down and cry over it?
what you have is your money’s worth
see what happens.
see what shows.
its now or over,
depending how
your day goes.
and the price of gas
a collection of words
to get into, gain light, float away,
or use it to better roll along the bottom.
endless are the possibilities.
ten thousand splashing waves crashing,
screaming into the face of the wind .
looking over i see the noise is emitted by
a kid at the next table eating breakfast cereal
daily bread
do not donut
why not
pilgrims cry
George M. Cohan sang
sailing, talking, running
for the long song
and that’s the short of it,
it’s all about the wind.
why do you need poetry
connected and rhythmic?
are you going to dance to it, or
lie down and cry over it?
what you have is your money’s worth
see what happens.
see what shows.
its now or over,
depending how
your day goes.
and the price of gas
a collection of words
to get into, gain light, float away,
or use it to better roll along the bottom.
endless are the possibilities.
Friday, November 25, 2011
while you're young
while you’re young
hike the peaks.
take some leaps.
come fall, rake leaves.
make tracks in the hills,
wander the hollow,
‘neath clouds high see ‘em go by
as the grand geese honk over.
evening, toast your pals
roast marsh mellows,
laugh now, gals and fellows tell your stories,
wrap it up over apple cider, then count the stars.
days pass, waxed on glass, you know.
then remember again, as you will,
the great times that passed
when we were young together.
hike the peaks.
take some leaps.
come fall, rake leaves.
make tracks in the hills,
wander the hollow,
‘neath clouds high see ‘em go by
as the grand geese honk over.
evening, toast your pals
roast marsh mellows,
laugh now, gals and fellows tell your stories,
wrap it up over apple cider, then count the stars.
days pass, waxed on glass, you know.
then remember again, as you will,
the great times that passed
when we were young together.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
long distance evolution
on narrow cobble stoned streets
at noon in the throng of the old city
i passed a woman speaking in normal voice.
something odd about this caused me to stop.
hearing her calm voice i turned to watch.
in no way did she sound or look crazy.
her calm manner of dissertation seemed quite normal,
but there was no one to whom was she speaking.
she stood chin up, as if speaking to the wind.
i had to walk back and then begged to interrupt,
“mi scusi.” I asked to whom was she speaking?
she pointed up toward the building she was facing.
eighty feet away high up on the third floor her friend
looked down from an open window, smiled and nodded.
here at last is proof of the evolution of man
adaptation in the strength of neighborliness.
at noon in the throng of the old city
i passed a woman speaking in normal voice.
something odd about this caused me to stop.
hearing her calm voice i turned to watch.
in no way did she sound or look crazy.
her calm manner of dissertation seemed quite normal,
but there was no one to whom was she speaking.
she stood chin up, as if speaking to the wind.
i had to walk back and then begged to interrupt,
“mi scusi.” I asked to whom was she speaking?
she pointed up toward the building she was facing.
eighty feet away high up on the third floor her friend
looked down from an open window, smiled and nodded.
here at last is proof of the evolution of man
adaptation in the strength of neighborliness.
gleaming, rolling
from the bridge Garibaldi,
toward the island Tiberina,
the split Tevere river water runs swiftly.
a three foot falls is on the South side.
caught in the back water of the falls
are eight soccer balls rapidly turning ,
25 bright, shiny one- liter plastic bottles in motion,
sparkling iridescent light blue, green, orange and white.
bathing in exploding foam that surrounds all.
gleaming refracting sun jumps colors to life.
when you come to Rome be sure to look;
I’m sure it will till be there.
swift flows the river
but those rolling objects
aren’t leaving;
they like it there.
toward the island Tiberina,
the split Tevere river water runs swiftly.
a three foot falls is on the South side.
caught in the back water of the falls
are eight soccer balls rapidly turning ,
25 bright, shiny one- liter plastic bottles in motion,
sparkling iridescent light blue, green, orange and white.
bathing in exploding foam that surrounds all.
gleaming refracting sun jumps colors to life.
when you come to Rome be sure to look;
I’m sure it will till be there.
swift flows the river
but those rolling objects
aren’t leaving;
they like it there.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
poetry music, art
poetry, music, art
how i spend the hours;
need to squeeze in flowers
for the rhyme.
words, piano, drawing,
would say color
but doesn’t rhyme,
just makes music for the eyes.
how i spend the hours;
need to squeeze in flowers
for the rhyme.
words, piano, drawing,
would say color
but doesn’t rhyme,
just makes music for the eyes.
Monday, November 21, 2011
here again some
where new and old is Rome altogether.
observing what is
and making note;
thus comes poetry out of this city.
took a cab across town to the district Parioli,
Fiat called me for a recording session.
later on a bus ride home a baby cries.
after a few minutes i move to the rear.
and cries relentless, poor child
it is twenty minutes to the termini
and cries.
voluntarily out early i transfer buses.
there is an alert.
a white medical van goes by
as siren calls i’m here, make way.
the van labeled as carrying blood and organs.
on then off another bus again
at Largo Argentina.
a place i know well,
though hardly time to look around
a third bus takes me for a few blocks,
and then walking now near home
i stop, because it was necessary.
had to to look into the hole.
men were working on the long deep ditch.
speaking with a co-looker i mention
the building right there
was a workshop of Michelangelo
see the faint painting on the side that his students did
the workers were seated, resting for lunch, listening
i said to my co-hole- looker that only men
stop to look in the holes.
one of the hole workers heard
and added, not only men,
also children always stop
to gaze in the hole.
so it is that good work,
as with poetry,
begins with the question:
what is down there?
and this time i do think
for sure, rightfully so, there may be
something most interesting hidden for ages from mankind
down there in that hole.
observing what is
and making note;
thus comes poetry out of this city.
took a cab across town to the district Parioli,
Fiat called me for a recording session.
later on a bus ride home a baby cries.
after a few minutes i move to the rear.
and cries relentless, poor child
it is twenty minutes to the termini
and cries.
voluntarily out early i transfer buses.
there is an alert.
a white medical van goes by
as siren calls i’m here, make way.
the van labeled as carrying blood and organs.
on then off another bus again
at Largo Argentina.
a place i know well,
though hardly time to look around
a third bus takes me for a few blocks,
and then walking now near home
i stop, because it was necessary.
had to to look into the hole.
men were working on the long deep ditch.
speaking with a co-looker i mention
the building right there
was a workshop of Michelangelo
see the faint painting on the side that his students did
the workers were seated, resting for lunch, listening
i said to my co-hole- looker that only men
stop to look in the holes.
one of the hole workers heard
and added, not only men,
also children always stop
to gaze in the hole.
so it is that good work,
as with poetry,
begins with the question:
what is down there?
and this time i do think
for sure, rightfully so, there may be
something most interesting hidden for ages from mankind
down there in that hole.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
spoke with five
spoke with five people in a church,
actually more a museum these days.
we and the they were in repose,
a respite from touring Roma.
bright, able and intelligent,
a refreshing splash revitalizing the reality of
this start of the second decade
of the twenty-first Century.
calm, quiet, sharp, all spoke observantly,
we would have taken them home right now;
course they’ve gone now, we lost ‘em.
what remains is spirit of rekindled hope for the future.
actually more a museum these days.
we and the they were in repose,
a respite from touring Roma.
bright, able and intelligent,
a refreshing splash revitalizing the reality of
this start of the second decade
of the twenty-first Century.
calm, quiet, sharp, all spoke observantly,
we would have taken them home right now;
course they’ve gone now, we lost ‘em.
what remains is spirit of rekindled hope for the future.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
on a stairway
on a stairway all the way
up the side of the house
is it redwood? i think so.
definitely spongy in places near the top
then i climbed on the outside of the rail
found a box with odd electrical parts
and a scrap of rumpled paper
with a handwritten note
that said, “.83 per kilowatt hour,
123 dollars for a month.“ could this be?
or is it solely an invention of dream
and possibly of poetry?
up the side of the house
is it redwood? i think so.
definitely spongy in places near the top
then i climbed on the outside of the rail
found a box with odd electrical parts
and a scrap of rumpled paper
with a handwritten note
that said, “.83 per kilowatt hour,
123 dollars for a month.“ could this be?
or is it solely an invention of dream
and possibly of poetry?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
bus drama
from the prime first seat i see
an old woman outside the door as it closes, she doesn't see me,
looking up she is mouthing pleading words to the driver
while he sits comfortably aloof looking straight ahead
she is manically asking help from God,
desperately imploring the baby Jesus
hands on the wheel the driver is warm in his glass booth
the elderly woman outside the door shakes her fist
i’m in the middle nearly between them
what should i shout - Hey, Whoa, Wait?
unable to quickly form helpful words
it all unfolds a breath before the bus departs
an old woman outside the door as it closes, she doesn't see me,
looking up she is mouthing pleading words to the driver
while he sits comfortably aloof looking straight ahead
she is manically asking help from God,
desperately imploring the baby Jesus
hands on the wheel the driver is warm in his glass booth
the elderly woman outside the door shakes her fist
i’m in the middle nearly between them
what should i shout - Hey, Whoa, Wait?
unable to quickly form helpful words
it all unfolds a breath before the bus departs
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
this is the sixteenth day
how problem was found
and how it resolved
began with desire
to take a bus
the tobacchio man said sold out
no more November bus passes.
i settled for a one week pass,
paid sixteen euro.
which week of the two remaining will i ride?
the week begins when i punch the ticket.
should i ride the week in the middle
leave a few days on both sides?
sixteen euro is what i pay
for a leisurely full month fare.
i was fifty feet away
when i thought about it
then i went back
and exchanged the week pass
for sixteen individual tickets.
that will serve me well
and how it resolved
began with desire
to take a bus
the tobacchio man said sold out
no more November bus passes.
i settled for a one week pass,
paid sixteen euro.
which week of the two remaining will i ride?
the week begins when i punch the ticket.
should i ride the week in the middle
leave a few days on both sides?
sixteen euro is what i pay
for a leisurely full month fare.
i was fifty feet away
when i thought about it
then i went back
and exchanged the week pass
for sixteen individual tickets.
that will serve me well
there are shadows
set one two three
there’s a street light bright
showing through a tree bare for winter
cast upon the neighbors white garage
seen from our window
any dark November night
the large flat garage white
is engraved by intricate branch shadow
sharp and still as a pencil drawing
until breeze begins limbs clawing
creating overgrown powerful tentacles
bulging in menacingly creepy proportions
there’s a street light bright
showing through a tree bare for winter
cast upon the neighbors white garage
seen from our window
any dark November night
the large flat garage white
is engraved by intricate branch shadow
sharp and still as a pencil drawing
until breeze begins limbs clawing
creating overgrown powerful tentacles
bulging in menacingly creepy proportions
Saturday, November 12, 2011
industrial music please
the industrial music on TV Oh Boy
during wake-up early Saturday morning off-hours
when no sane sponsor would pay a dime to advertise
ergo there was nothing decent to view
we watched until it made us tap our feet in joy
to see new clean shiny bottles passing by,
row on row, on conveyor belts,
endless bottles sans commentary
gleaming bottles galore
whoa, wha’cha watchin’ zombie kids?
watching bottles
passin’ by, nothing to talk about
only that music and bottles on parade
you have to have loved it, or hated it or been mesmerized
here they come empty, watch ‘em now
then full, then lidded – get the lids on will ya
sometimes you tuned in and saw the end
when all those full bottles were
boxed, packed, trucked, then sped away
all to that appropriately endless industrial music.
during wake-up early Saturday morning off-hours
when no sane sponsor would pay a dime to advertise
ergo there was nothing decent to view
we watched until it made us tap our feet in joy
to see new clean shiny bottles passing by,
row on row, on conveyor belts,
endless bottles sans commentary
gleaming bottles galore
whoa, wha’cha watchin’ zombie kids?
watching bottles
passin’ by, nothing to talk about
only that music and bottles on parade
you have to have loved it, or hated it or been mesmerized
here they come empty, watch ‘em now
then full, then lidded – get the lids on will ya
sometimes you tuned in and saw the end
when all those full bottles were
boxed, packed, trucked, then sped away
all to that appropriately endless industrial music.
Friday, November 11, 2011
11-11-11 punkin house on a hill
ohio man grows largest pumpkin
on charming small hill
dries it out
scrapes inside clean
crafts bed, cabinets,
does plumbing, then electricity
paints interior, decorates
even adds a fireplace
hangs up curtains and lives in it
falls asleep with fire roaring
burns whole place down.
gets out alive
now years later the local beer joint fills
every Saturday eve when they leave the hills
to buy him ale
and to hear this tale
on charming small hill
dries it out
scrapes inside clean
crafts bed, cabinets,
does plumbing, then electricity
paints interior, decorates
even adds a fireplace
hangs up curtains and lives in it
falls asleep with fire roaring
burns whole place down.
gets out alive
now years later the local beer joint fills
every Saturday eve when they leave the hills
to buy him ale
and to hear this tale
Thursday, November 10, 2011
smoking in the dark
lights out blackness nearly
yet creeping neon proclaims the inner city
leaking into our unlit hallway
softly dusting a residual hint of glow
i open the door a crack
to see illusive curling smoke,
then close the door
welcoming the envelope of total dark.
even the glow of a puff
stealthy falls away
silent in the mystic lure
of golden tobacco.
ah, but i know the way
to idle swirling dream,
the light that follows spark
when smoking In the dark.
yet creeping neon proclaims the inner city
leaking into our unlit hallway
softly dusting a residual hint of glow
i open the door a crack
to see illusive curling smoke,
then close the door
welcoming the envelope of total dark.
even the glow of a puff
stealthy falls away
silent in the mystic lure
of golden tobacco.
ah, but i know the way
to idle swirling dream,
the light that follows spark
when smoking In the dark.
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
the leaf in the pond
it leapt from tall sugar maple
semi-circled in light breeze,
that leaf briefly glided
then came to pond landing.
large, twisted nearly into a great U
floating flat and steady on one side,
swan proud high on the other
as gusts took it round
making short lines in light wind ripples,
then circles, quickly here,
spin turn there, zipping
like a curious swan on the lookout
then swung about like a four master
in queen’s colors, my beloved red to yellow
swashbuckling dry dinosaur,
remnant of parting golden autumn.
semi-circled in light breeze,
that leaf briefly glided
then came to pond landing.
large, twisted nearly into a great U
floating flat and steady on one side,
swan proud high on the other
as gusts took it round
making short lines in light wind ripples,
then circles, quickly here,
spin turn there, zipping
like a curious swan on the lookout
then swung about like a four master
in queen’s colors, my beloved red to yellow
swashbuckling dry dinosaur,
remnant of parting golden autumn.
Saturday, November 05, 2011
box of cereal
instead of stopping for a donut,
i’m going to get vitamins, they say.
but what happened?
But What (that’s me), can’t get to the cereal.
pulling, twisting, chewing,
all the old tricks
nothing budges the indestructible plastic package.
finally i use some scissors.
then, pouring those golden flakes,
expecting toys and games,
i see that nothing special drops,
only flakes; ok - so they’re kinda golden.
yet they look like plain flakes to me.
oh, my how times have changed.
there isn’t even a toy rocket
or whistle in the bottom of the box.
still i guess it’s okay to eat cereal,
mainly cause i know deep down
it may be better for me
than a dunkin’ donut.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
so let us say
for the wind and the rains
the mountains and plains,
for robins, pigeons, red birds,
fish in the sea and high above eagles,
for waving sweet corn, carrots and round melons,
the fruits and vegetables,
meat and potatoes and little bugs,
for dust and the dirt, ice and rust,
in sunshine, strong winds
on starry nights, hefty ocean waves,
first morning light, moonless thunder
and during seasonal change,
for gone cowboys and Indians,
war paint, wagons and horses and buffalo
the bankers and doctors, kind women before us
the trees again, the breeze again,
lawyers, bums, gamblers and dentists, islanders,
pick a card, it’s who we are. to the Chinese,
south Americans, Europeans, Africans, the other ones
mark my word everywhere under the heavens
through clouds and fresh falling water drops
for all these and more, we pray
until do us apart, until we part anyway,
some day, anyhow, all together - amen.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Frogologist
other careers you need credentials and study
more than merely tend and look each day.
too bad it doesn’t pay banker bailout money.
it captured me via strings-free curiosity.
true enough, October cool,
the chill pool is nearing winter
and there on the edge today,
diving down is Shorty Skinny,
no doubt a sleek light green youngster.
ten years i’ve seen them all,
know well their schedule, summer to fall;
he’ll winter in the icy soup.
son of another home ponder,
count him present
for chill sleep down under.
pond frog score: three home for winter.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Giancarlino remembers
talking to an Italian friend
about a music group from years past,
he said they were two folk singers, big hits.
i suggested Chad and Jermey?
Ian and Silvia?
finally he remembered, “Peter Paul and Mary”.
That’s Giancarlino, so Italian.
he thought it was one guy, Peter Paul and a girl, Mary.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
pond from scratch
since i made this pond
more'an a decade’s passed
so it’s practically natural now.
the frogs think so.
this morning seemed the pump stopped.
couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it;
wasn’t any moving water to speak of.
pulled the pump, it was purring.
coated thick with great-green,
though, pumping away it was;
checked the falls, found it trickled.
heavy growth covered the drop.
pulled then threw thick green gobs away,
minutes later all seemed okay;
on a warmer day’ll clean it all for winter,
today it’s late and i’m tired.
tomorrow’s out, heard it’ll rain,
day after’s soon enough for me.
you can’t do everything at once,
heard that said and belive it.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
the good news is
two frogs set to winter here.
watched one, for sure, grow from little.
fish are sleeping deeper now.
while above, leaves keep blowing
and i scoop ‘em out of the pond
and wade the yard through red and orange.
as trees are changing differently,
seems definitely an unusual year
that will result, you know,
in the same affect;
for waiting around the corner,
coming soon, is winter.
Thursday, October 06, 2011
we the resting
our bed of theater
banner front row center
space over town is evident
full mystic river flows left to right
far train crosses, rattles bridge
as off-left plant rumbles lowly
cue distant car from unknown faraway
birds fly too late to call, hear wings flapping
we the resting
amid pre-morning
hold thought tight
hallowed be the night
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Wonder Bread believer
helped strong bodies eight ways
for about a year
before clever scientists
found four more ways
then Wonder Bread
helped build strong bodies
twelve ways, no kidding.
so why’d they quit?
it’s been fifty years now
and if i don’t hear something soon
i’m going to quit believing
in advertising.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
homeland security poetry
okay shoes off. could be
weapons o'mass destruction in them
so down on da rug boys and girls
and spread ‘em
we followin' orders lookin’.
‘n don’ matter none
what ‘scuse you got,
cause dis b Merica.
wann’ a ejication?
put chez in da army
‘n learn yez practico
like drive a tank n’ shoot
while on the other side,
a lesson in how to do life
at the Amish auction.
six young boys in a small cart
pulled in a circle for an hour
by a Shetland pony.
while all of them,
boys as well as the pony,
kept mouths shut
and eyes open
making the circle,
enjoyin’ the go around.
and there’s equipment
to listen to your calls,
an we drive round
and listen in your house
we’ll feed you
hints in the media
and blur you
with delusion
anymore ‘n that
sheep jus don’t
gots da need
ta know
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
when she asked me
when she asked me to turn
off the sprinklers in twenty minutes
i nodded and noticed the kitchen clock
and then the one in the living room.
they were ten minutes apart.
i began to tell her and she said
“Oh, jack” in that tone, you know which one.
“This is not science.”
“go make a clock then” is what i thought
but didn’t say,
then forgot where i was going with this
so i returned to the spot where i thought it
ever do that?
it usually works - to capture forgotten thoughts
return to the spot where you thought it.
this time it didn’t work.
looking out the kitchen window
there on the back of a chair
a squirrel sat intensely
looking in at me.
i had a plan where i was going with this
but now, before i forget again,
i'd better go out
and turn off the sprinklers.
Monday, August 15, 2011
why i'm not writing everyday
a second summer tooth extraction
this one fractured on a rock
in take-out Chinese food,
kidnee stones, broken toe on my bear pad foot.
and i could be writing poetry
but got distracted.
how’s your summer?
i claim all the trees i see
and the three gulls above
in steady wind just right
that float near still like kites in a photograph
off shore wind
yellow morning sun
seventy eight degrees
still air, no breeze down here
a perfect day just now has begun
( Note: I wrote a word incorrectly in the above because in an effort to make more money Blogspot has sold out to a medical information company and alters blogs with difficult to delete site links. More and more in this Twentyfirst Century it's all about money. )
this one fractured on a rock
in take-out Chinese food,
kidnee stones, broken toe on my bear pad foot.
and i could be writing poetry
but got distracted.
how’s your summer?
i claim all the trees i see
and the three gulls above
in steady wind just right
that float near still like kites in a photograph
off shore wind
yellow morning sun
seventy eight degrees
still air, no breeze down here
a perfect day just now has begun
( Note: I wrote a word incorrectly in the above because in an effort to make more money Blogspot has sold out to a medical information company and alters blogs with difficult to delete site links. More and more in this Twentyfirst Century it's all about money. )
Thursday, July 28, 2011
happy anniversary
Pookashell-With-Kitties-All-Over-It
jumped into the shower
then came out immediately to kill four spiders
and although i was in the other room
yes, i caught hell
for i am The Man
guilty as charged
for as long as we both shall live.
jumped into the shower
then came out immediately to kill four spiders
and although i was in the other room
yes, i caught hell
for i am The Man
guilty as charged
for as long as we both shall live.
Friday, July 22, 2011
not alone/ conspiracy
been working on this more than a week and can't decide how it really goes, but thought it was time to let it out of the box. i'll decide later.
not alone
everyone feels to be
number one in the universe.
although, not one is truly unique.
not squirrels, frogs, birds nor people;
yet, all living things can touch
the center cog on the wheel of life,
precisely the point
where consciousness is connected.
not alone b.
there are too many of us
for any one to be unique.
yet every squirrel, frog, bird and person
feels to be number one in their universe.
still, all living things can touch
the center cog on the wheel of life
and share consciousness precisely at the point
where we are connected.
not alone
everyone feels to be
number one in the universe.
although, not one is truly unique.
not squirrels, frogs, birds nor people;
yet, all living things can touch
the center cog on the wheel of life,
precisely the point
where consciousness is connected.
not alone b.
there are too many of us
for any one to be unique.
yet every squirrel, frog, bird and person
feels to be number one in their universe.
still, all living things can touch
the center cog on the wheel of life
and share consciousness precisely at the point
where we are connected.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
what'd i say?
this quiet morning the robin returned
sat at the same spot on the fence
where the other day we had a chat
from the porch i gave the robin whistle
it looked directly at me
hopped one hundred-eighty degrees,
faced the other way
and flew away.
sat at the same spot on the fence
where the other day we had a chat
from the porch i gave the robin whistle
it looked directly at me
hopped one hundred-eighty degrees,
faced the other way
and flew away.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
i copied
i copied the two note whistle,
the same as the bird in the tree.
the bird liked it enough to reply
and we traded calls back and forth.
for ten minutes our whistles continued
in changing patterns and pauses.
so now i've conversed with a robin,
yet have no idea what was said.
the same as the bird in the tree.
the bird liked it enough to reply
and we traded calls back and forth.
for ten minutes our whistles continued
in changing patterns and pauses.
so now i've conversed with a robin,
yet have no idea what was said.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
robinses
set to write good of them, i was,
cause hard workers they are.
first up early, feed the kids.
even give them lessons when they’re out.
always up at dawn, retire by dark.
mid day one'll sail in to sit and stare.
tween times sitting to think about the day,
waiting, staring at me, doing nothing.
then when i mow my heart grows cold against them
for i see the yard torn up here and there where
those hoppy bobbing, worm searching peckers
haven't replaced their divots.
cause hard workers they are.
first up early, feed the kids.
even give them lessons when they’re out.
always up at dawn, retire by dark.
mid day one'll sail in to sit and stare.
tween times sitting to think about the day,
waiting, staring at me, doing nothing.
then when i mow my heart grows cold against them
for i see the yard torn up here and there where
those hoppy bobbing, worm searching peckers
haven't replaced their divots.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
days are like eggs
days are like eggs
some sunny side up
they’re hard, or scrambled
and, thank god,
always a few are
over easy
some sunny side up
they’re hard, or scrambled
and, thank god,
always a few are
over easy
Saturday, May 07, 2011
we live in small town ohio
on the back porch
sipping morning coffee watching
our pet wild squirrel,
not pet really,
call her acquaintance,
who takes peanuts from our hand
and presses her paw on ours
gently, touching the human goodbye
and thanks, as she pushes off.
we’d like to give her fuzz a rub
but she won’t stand for it;
she may be squirrel
but is not nuts.
now high above.
on a taunt electrical wire stretched pole to pole.
there she is comfortably sitting,
relaxing, thirty feet in the air.
then casually turning around
below is our small backyard pond
four hops long and three hops wide
where four large frogs
each on a different pond side
sun on the rocks.
a swooping shadow across my old wooden lab
then a splash in the pond
the first of our two mating ducks arrives.
she climbs out on a rock and twists her head around
to preen her feathers
looking good, feeling good.
he'll be in in a minute.
while practically downtown we are,
traffic here is wildlife.
rabbits i haven’t seen this year.
a large fox just sauntered through our yard;
he’s would have seen them, would eat them.
out front passing deer
are early risers.
sipping morning coffee watching
our pet wild squirrel,
not pet really,
call her acquaintance,
who takes peanuts from our hand
and presses her paw on ours
gently, touching the human goodbye
and thanks, as she pushes off.
we’d like to give her fuzz a rub
but she won’t stand for it;
she may be squirrel
but is not nuts.
now high above.
on a taunt electrical wire stretched pole to pole.
there she is comfortably sitting,
relaxing, thirty feet in the air.
then casually turning around
below is our small backyard pond
four hops long and three hops wide
where four large frogs
each on a different pond side
sun on the rocks.
a swooping shadow across my old wooden lab
then a splash in the pond
the first of our two mating ducks arrives.
she climbs out on a rock and twists her head around
to preen her feathers
looking good, feeling good.
he'll be in in a minute.
while practically downtown we are,
traffic here is wildlife.
rabbits i haven’t seen this year.
a large fox just sauntered through our yard;
he’s would have seen them, would eat them.
out front passing deer
are early risers.
Monday, May 02, 2011
plans - revisited
we make our plans
and choose our actions
sometimes based on reality
often times on dreams
the attractions to our suit
can be distractions to the root
not tailored to patterns
that follow the seams
and choose our actions
sometimes based on reality
often times on dreams
the attractions to our suit
can be distractions to the root
not tailored to patterns
that follow the seams
Sunday, May 01, 2011
my garden - revisited
my garden today was weed crowded,
a task undone far too long
so that work today, was my purpose
the labor in sun was my song
begin where it needs it the most
do all that you possible can
after a rest on completion,
move forward, and do it again
each part of life is in motion
moving ahead in the flow
your thoughts are merely a notion,
love doing, and not what you know
a task undone far too long
so that work today, was my purpose
the labor in sun was my song
begin where it needs it the most
do all that you possible can
after a rest on completion,
move forward, and do it again
each part of life is in motion
moving ahead in the flow
your thoughts are merely a notion,
love doing, and not what you know
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
oil change
bused around eyes open.
needed an oil change, not me, the car.
that sort of service wasn’t what we noticed
before we had a vehicle.
in Rome nothing is easy.
i asked friends, several.
a bus ride took us along likely avenues
found a place, we’ll give it a try.
need oil drained,
the correct new oil put in
and a replacement filter, yet i know
in Rome nothing is easy.
discarded the idea of the place we found
drove out of the city.
found another oil changer
on the old salt road.
the guy was quick, kind and did it right.
when a job is complete i can relax
for it seems, for a while, that
everything in Rome is easy.
needed an oil change, not me, the car.
that sort of service wasn’t what we noticed
before we had a vehicle.
in Rome nothing is easy.
i asked friends, several.
a bus ride took us along likely avenues
found a place, we’ll give it a try.
need oil drained,
the correct new oil put in
and a replacement filter, yet i know
in Rome nothing is easy.
discarded the idea of the place we found
drove out of the city.
found another oil changer
on the old salt road.
the guy was quick, kind and did it right.
when a job is complete i can relax
for it seems, for a while, that
everything in Rome is easy.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
four and four
four seated facing four.
an interesting ride
for three others and i observing
enthusiastic constant chatters, as we rode
in an otherwise silent little electric bus.
three were on cell phones talking
in exceptionally loud voices, nonstop.
a fourth looked out the window
no phone, but spoke vehemently
to another someone, unseen.
an interesting ride
for three others and i observing
enthusiastic constant chatters, as we rode
in an otherwise silent little electric bus.
three were on cell phones talking
in exceptionally loud voices, nonstop.
a fourth looked out the window
no phone, but spoke vehemently
to another someone, unseen.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
the future
i'm an old man
and little kids are here in my future.
did i catch up with the future
or did it catch up with me?
a video clip of an Ed Sullivan Show
TV appearance by Buddy Holly
i may have seen live in Ohio
when i was a kid in 1958
i’m watching in 2011
on my computer in Rome, Italy.
the future is here for me.
so i caught up with my future?
little kids have their future ahead,
out somewhere beyond starlight.
so if i am in my future
what are they doing here?
and little kids are here in my future.
did i catch up with the future
or did it catch up with me?
a video clip of an Ed Sullivan Show
TV appearance by Buddy Holly
i may have seen live in Ohio
when i was a kid in 1958
i’m watching in 2011
on my computer in Rome, Italy.
the future is here for me.
so i caught up with my future?
little kids have their future ahead,
out somewhere beyond starlight.
so if i am in my future
what are they doing here?
Saturday, April 16, 2011
When old clothes were new - (from sept. '09)
archeologists say
first clothes were made
seventy thousand years ago
more or less
before that? you tell me
what’d the cave man wear
sticks and clam shells?
maybe dinosaur skins
now in a cave in the Republic of Georgia
archaeologists have found colored fibers
that indicate the cave that may have been a factory
engaged in producing colorful textiles
found were strings and ropes
dyed fabric yellow, gray and turquoise
and one in pink, twisted together
carbon dated to thirty-four thousand years ago
scientists, not prone to speculation,
estimate that even then the fashion styles
changed every six months
and runway models were skinny
Scientists credited with the above discovery are
Ofer Bar Yosef, George Grant MacCurdy
and Janet G. B. MacCurdy of Prehistoric Archaeology
in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences at Harvard University
Bar Yosef and colleagues have been working in this cave since 1996.
first clothes were made
seventy thousand years ago
more or less
before that? you tell me
what’d the cave man wear
sticks and clam shells?
maybe dinosaur skins
now in a cave in the Republic of Georgia
archaeologists have found colored fibers
that indicate the cave that may have been a factory
engaged in producing colorful textiles
found were strings and ropes
dyed fabric yellow, gray and turquoise
and one in pink, twisted together
carbon dated to thirty-four thousand years ago
scientists, not prone to speculation,
estimate that even then the fashion styles
changed every six months
and runway models were skinny
Scientists credited with the above discovery are
Ofer Bar Yosef, George Grant MacCurdy
and Janet G. B. MacCurdy of Prehistoric Archaeology
in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences at Harvard University
Bar Yosef and colleagues have been working in this cave since 1996.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
earthrings
worn for ages
tree rings and planet loops around the stars
neither pages nor sages enough
to say what events have been
or to count the multiplying hours.
now don’t cha go thinking cause you have a fancy title
that things are going to happen,
nothings gonna happen.
Piazza Plebiscite where plebeians gathered
or fled, to get away from their boss
or their wives
same matter.
we knew the bar they hung out in at
(i say it that way for the like English speakers).
a photo of the bar could have done it, i didn’t have it,
and it wouldn’t really do, anyway.
in black and white, the brightest color grey
nondescript, old, sparse, gaps in wood.
local tired day end guys at worn tables, one room.
some few drink wine, others beer.
they were medium, halfway into life
one with cane, a couple younger and spirited,
some old, there was the Bar Keep woman
and then M. and me.
half the customers and the Bar Keep are there now i bet.
plenty of drinkers and talkers, light thinkers,
don’t ask me to say i wrote that unless you understand
it’s a tribute. for sure what they were thinking. they were saying.
we had draft beer at a table outside the door.
the church was practically in the bar yard
we watched them parking, with which some had
a hell of a time to get right, never straight.
M. went to a machine
but they wanted too much for so little
so she came back without. then Bar Keep
brought over fried snacks. she had a heart and vision.
i could see across the way Filipo’s pizza
near to opening for the evening
had two white lights
on either side the open door.
it was still late afternoon, very late,
after seven, maybe eight, and still
while i was deciding the real time
the clock on the church tower rang bells seven-thirty
‘s how i know now my report is accurate.
an i made a note.
street lights came on then,
beginning yellow tired.
i asked abut mosquitoes cause the sea’s a few streets over
and Bar Keep said, “here it’s not so bad, just normal.”
but we all know that can be bad enough
when you’re not in the mood to entertain
damn mosquitoes zam blam slam.
but i’m just saying now
cause we’re too early in the season
to have reason to get alarmed.
everything you see, you don’t simply take
you make it what you want
although a gondola ride isn’t romantic
for the guy who rows everyday to make a living
tree rings and planet loops around the stars
neither pages nor sages enough
to say what events have been
or to count the multiplying hours.
now don’t cha go thinking cause you have a fancy title
that things are going to happen,
nothings gonna happen.
Piazza Plebiscite where plebeians gathered
or fled, to get away from their boss
or their wives
same matter.
we knew the bar they hung out in at
(i say it that way for the like English speakers).
a photo of the bar could have done it, i didn’t have it,
and it wouldn’t really do, anyway.
in black and white, the brightest color grey
nondescript, old, sparse, gaps in wood.
local tired day end guys at worn tables, one room.
some few drink wine, others beer.
they were medium, halfway into life
one with cane, a couple younger and spirited,
some old, there was the Bar Keep woman
and then M. and me.
half the customers and the Bar Keep are there now i bet.
plenty of drinkers and talkers, light thinkers,
don’t ask me to say i wrote that unless you understand
it’s a tribute. for sure what they were thinking. they were saying.
we had draft beer at a table outside the door.
the church was practically in the bar yard
we watched them parking, with which some had
a hell of a time to get right, never straight.
M. went to a machine
but they wanted too much for so little
so she came back without. then Bar Keep
brought over fried snacks. she had a heart and vision.
i could see across the way Filipo’s pizza
near to opening for the evening
had two white lights
on either side the open door.
it was still late afternoon, very late,
after seven, maybe eight, and still
while i was deciding the real time
the clock on the church tower rang bells seven-thirty
‘s how i know now my report is accurate.
an i made a note.
street lights came on then,
beginning yellow tired.
i asked abut mosquitoes cause the sea’s a few streets over
and Bar Keep said, “here it’s not so bad, just normal.”
but we all know that can be bad enough
when you’re not in the mood to entertain
damn mosquitoes zam blam slam.
but i’m just saying now
cause we’re too early in the season
to have reason to get alarmed.
everything you see, you don’t simply take
you make it what you want
although a gondola ride isn’t romantic
for the guy who rows everyday to make a living
Thursday, March 24, 2011
like they make toast
like they make toast
windows closed
on the bus we rode
hermetically sealed
jackets pealed
lady seated by me fanned herself
so hard i thought
she’d lift off
then to an eatery so far from the center
that we looked like locals
where plates twice as full
cost half as much
ate in the shade
and thanks be to God it made
for a real good
sun shiny time
windows closed
on the bus we rode
hermetically sealed
jackets pealed
lady seated by me fanned herself
so hard i thought
she’d lift off
then to an eatery so far from the center
that we looked like locals
where plates twice as full
cost half as much
ate in the shade
and thanks be to God it made
for a real good
sun shiny time
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
she grips tightly two
long handle wooden spoons
stands over an empty large metal can.
has learned Morse code
and is writing.
quiet, listen.
dit, dah, dit,
dit, dah, dit, dit
ahh, it’s an audio ebook.
stands over an empty large metal can.
has learned Morse code
and is writing.
quiet, listen.
dit, dah, dit,
dit, dah, dit, dit
ahh, it’s an audio ebook.
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