been there

not too cold for Christmas.

but you want to have a picnic
better get a space heater
sunshine if it's daylight
and reindeer if it's Christmas.
go ahead, you choose.
the shoes is on your foot.
many options open.
so pick one, or not to be.
it's your wagon.
i think you can do well.

fish and hibi

had fried fish
small and entire,
at a table
in the sun, just off the street;
with a good glass of wine.

next day we crossed ponte sisto,
saw hibi and his bride.
that was a treat ... he reappeared.
i wish them well.

we see

seems late in the season.
give a reason
for thinking again
about ducks flying over ...
rather work a while, eh?
they do have a strong voice.
sweet if you're not too close.
power in a honk.
nothing sweet about it.
need a lake.
let ducks fly.

***

noon rain,
take it or leave it?
come and get it.
set your watch ...
missed today, good.

arista, pork roast and spinach

on vittorio emanuale
a 46 took us away.
 1200: bells chimed.
 may rain this 2 jan 2020

sirens as we crossed the river.
our bus crowd had gained strength.
everyone heard  the loud man with a voice squished, as he kept  talking.
a street car bell from a century ago sounded once sharply, sweetly.

we were aboard with
 a good bus crowd. stirred up.
privately we had anticipation of lunch 
i saw gorganzola on the menu and knew i would order it.

fury falls

inside is always silent.
a sound tight apartment we've rented.
from inside we heard the rain.
looked out to see a storm unleashed,
pounding like no other we've seen.
a memory rain apart from all others.

changed form

went to Trionfale, the market,
along our way,
at a corner
i met a Bangledeshi

speaks five languages
talks to people on the street,
small groups,sells them tours.
that's a slick talker.

angelo, simone

we don't
wake early
as they.
start in motion.

give joy,
serve all the potion...
in good attitude
day after day.

oh, they do;
and do again.
people keep coming back.
they make a visit there a pleasure.

four- twenty a.m.

four-twenty a.m. and i’m thinking poetry
in absolute silence
words run by
then piano phrases enter my head
for Some Enchanted Evening,
hearing Enzio Pinza sing some lines
it’s a heck of a way to wake up

and it’s nearly dawn,
street lamps still on
i'll make coffee in a while,
think of other things.
good morning world
how are you?

no rain tonight

running dry.
cool and okay.
on the road
low and our way.
see more silver
hollow help us,
heavens hold on.

tell me true.
turnover, take a right.
slow down will ya.
walking. on we go.
tenderly, so tenderly.
...
 rolling words on
and on.

where ya be?

my poem readers,
lookers for sure,
who or where
i have no idea.

***

i read new
poems daily,
warm and donut fresh,
sweet, no sugar,
with the scent of angels.

calm water

another rain day,
complete. inside
looking out.
then dress for
water everywhere.
gallons of it. more
 than seems reasonable.
hear splashes, patter.
dripping. splatter. drops.

i keep my neck covered,
don't need drafts...heard that somewhere, thought it seems reasonable;
getting comfortable.

it's winter, that counts a lot.
keeping from thinking chocolate.
 sounds desperate but
i'm just working away from candy,
when i call it candy i want to leave it alone.

new rain

warm day,
new rain
comin' this way
they say;

got to figure
if afternoon
brings wet falling,
like i hear
as they tell me,

we'll see...
bring umbrellas,
and count on it.

on the way

met some time ago.
we talk now and then.
while years have passed
ticking easy time
slowly off the clock,
his mom is ill,
he's off to see her
wish all the  best.

world spins,
moves again
don't need acres
of words rolling on.
write clean on steel:
cold and true.
when you call that guy's my friend,
like me and you.

Travel in

cold morn
sun'll be heatin' by noon,
then i'll dump my jacket.

coming now cruisin' low on the center line,
semblen a limousine;

them dark windows showin' a
car full of importance.
with a tight group ridin' in.

some know where they goin',
some just know how to get there.
careful: don't overload your plate.

main stay

here with partial net
and wit i go round
seeing old acquaintances.
finding value in talks some.

o - well

football on tv,
where it ought to be.
don't want to pay to sit outdoors.
cold enough outside,
so i'm inside
reading two good books
back and forth.

i follow the weather out the window.
visionally.
anything thing can happen,
write that down.

broken arrrow

yes, good morning
i noticed old man former
quarterback Terry Bradshaw
is 3 years younger than i am.

yet happilly, in all my years at work no one
ever tackled me.
i'll have oatmeal, please.
and rye toast.

wake up and
before you know
you're driving by Walmart.
in very light snow.

five minutes later the coast is clear.
fewer cars, nearly zero big trucks.
coffee and donuts always near.

traffic build up keeps happening
like ticking on the clocks
that used to tick, years ago.
now what do they do...hum?

in fields near the lake
it's time geese get on their way,
they see it's nearly winter
by watching the fields they fly over.

blew in

wasn't a blaster,
just light scattered flakes;
still early in the season.
seemed could'a laid out a mess'a snow but didn'.
gettin' ready...i suppose.
maybe next time.

preview

drove for breakfast in the country.
a glaze of snow far off
will be coming in this afternoon,
to winter us a preview
of how it's going to be,

as the best fires, best cookies and best

books keep us company.


.

poem for us

what poetry means
are soft words
how we feel
blanket warm
in light of dawn

morning more still

notice how quiet
now pouring November
pies on the table
holidays you remember

fix it

fix the house
look around
there’s more to do

buy another house
you’ll fix that too

they fix everything but the great pyramid,
probably fix that too,
just don’t tell anybody

no deer

3 starlings and a blue jay.
 seen while we
talk about the deer
we've not yet seen
but know they're near

five robins in the yard
now this 5 november.

sunshine in the fall
on the wall
on the floor, steady.
chipmonks  outside;
running, stopping, looking
in the autumn rush.

loud noise

27 august 1883
the loudest noise our
planet has ever heard.
circled the earth four times.
if you were nearer than
ten miles from Krakatoa exploding
you'd be deaf.
floating pumice fields 10 feet deep
clogged ports,
there was so much ash thrown in the sky that in Nicaragua, on the other side of the Pacific, the sun was blue. 

Janny squeeze

‘bout squeezed all the January
we’re goin’a get out of it;
can’t even cut off some of the rind;
no scent left to save for later.

so tell me, did you use this first
month of our new year as expected
or did you even think ahead at all
‘bout how you wanted it to unfold?

planning seems to go along fine,
right up to a point, and then;
there’s that certain amount of stuff,
call it stuff, that just happens.

that’s when best wishes come in.
so go ahead why don’t cha,
try again. that's where the circular
motion of the planets comes in.

***

so this is from last January
but never left the shoot.
 but nevcr got out the door.
  but was late leaving the gate.

yes, we move

best we can.

birds in the marsh.
perch a long while.
are they thinking
while they're waiting?

meanwhile, what can we do?

we've cooler temperatures,
wouldn't call it cold yet.
'cept bedtime,
or first thing in the morning.

yeah, well, good thing i've a list.
where to go,
what to get.
keeps order, don't you know.

you just get it together.

nearly winter fields

a geese flock 
lifts off at once.
it is time they are on their way,
geese can tell it's coming winter by
the look of the farm fields they fly over

downish

on the porch

in silence,
feeling off mark.
summer heat rising

i look to the sky,

the mighty cumulonimbus clouds.

fat, jolly, slow rolling,
out of control.

my spirit lightens with the sight
in the afternoon light,

i smiled.

what delight.

seeing Tim

at the tree dedication for Chris and Jesse,

Tim, you said hi, and we moved on.

i was surprised. i haven't been home for a while,

people don't often know me.

i can't drive to your years ago place in Rye Beach.

won't find you in the non-existing phone book.

can't go back in time for a Monday to see you in school.

so here we are.

my brother thought your dad the greatest coach.

i had him for one civics class.

he told us we had one thing to learn in that class,

he wrote it on the chalkboard, 

1066, The year of the Battle of Hastings.

no one has ever asked me when it occurred,

he didn't teach us about that turning point in history,

but, because he said to, i'll always remember the year.

your dad was a heck of a fine guy.

nether be

Netherlands has returned;
all 200, well, 197 souls

reading my blog every day.

the new counting system has engulfed me

smoothing these pages of time and mention,

thought i'd say.

in addition, i see you again.

Netherlands i've regained you.

don't know why. a nice place.