Tuesday, January 21, 2020

deer here

three deer walked in our yard.
large, confident animals.
quiet...a team.
don't see them every day,
i thought then i would.
now three or four days later,
i'm waiting their return.

not wit

what a nitwit
shot john lennon...
who would have grown.
at least john had time with the beatles.

now the world waits;
for only now and then
even the great ones find a voice
that expands world wide.


Monday, January 20, 2020

them squirrels


one tree out there, by the window.
2 brown squirrels, small to medium.
don't get me wrong, they are both the same size;
between small and medium.

here's how they partner up:
one's runs down on the left side;
the other, the other.

they stick their heads in the snow,
dig around, come up with a nut.
a frosty way to eat.
i'm cold watching them chew.

cold and flurries, january,
week four, week to go,
this is january 20, 2020.

Friday, January 17, 2020

snow some

it's cold,
not way, but enough.
wind and light snow tonight,
they say.

Tuesday, January 14, 2020

radical clipping

i was in the mood for it.

Bill told where, so i went.
to the bangladeshi part of town, piazza vittorio.
for a shave and a haircut.
a bus ride got me there.
two barber shops'
side by side.'
walked into one less busy.
all seemed well,
the barber asked me how he should cut it.
i looked at him.
told him, "you're the barber."

i sat down got a sheet over me and he went to work on my hair.
with a shampoo, a big cut...a big change for me.
he did well.
radical, modern, but i took it.
thought about it...

figure i'd do it again next month
if i was around.
if i could find his shop.

Sunday, January 12, 2020

wound tight

the string's off my dad's violin.
It leans against the wall,
not used now at all.

he played the songs.
the parties lasted long...
what nights of fest.

how they enjoyed laughter.
casual, no strain.
together in loving refrain.

so then...

I found more poems, and plan to sort them
while waiting for the strange winter to straighten
itself out. For now, there is no snow. This is the
warmest of Januarys I have seen. Clouds have
been heavy and colorful.

Friday, January 10, 2020

darkness



take this morning
while i was sleeping,
twisting in dream
then glanced at the clock;

could've jammed more thoughts in
but chose not to.
rather break from doing.
just rest, wait and see.

Wednesday, January 08, 2020

The mark

a new year
begins easily as a smudge
on the wall.
watch it now...holy cow,

see it hanging near the calender.
it's a circular plastic thing you set the piano wheels on. Circle, plastic - got it?
legs are in the air,

wheels on on the disc.
things okay.
move the piano.
smooth as my dentist.

now the piano won't
gouge into the floor.
can you dig it?
poems go well when you think about 'em.

Tuesday, January 07, 2020

streets alive

this day in rome
passed Jonathan of the Angels;
we looked in a flash.
both of us nearly
fell over, turning back
and smiling to shake hands.
been missing that face
I've known 25 years.
dog gone, he's out there looking good.
Good to see you, jonathan.


then the beginning of piazza navona
the print maker i've not seen thirty years,
we smiled and waved, and
it was so good to see the man again.
we both so much aged
but his face i know.
been a while since the last time we waved.

for many years
buffete due has been
pleasing to us.
gentle service, good cooks.
then it fell apart this trip
the second and the third times.

i'm crippled so
 no cost for any museum.
we only need
decide where and when.
did a poor job deciding
when to half the venizia,
and quit there.

saw Gii passing in the crowd,
he didn't see me.
Caught up,
Shook hands.
two other times he got by
drifting...out of gear.

then franco walked by. the next day,
Slippery as ever.
mario, brother of gii, said hello.
always a nice guy

saw roberto from the window.
lello is around this neighborhood.
talked to giacomo's brother, sandro.

graziano, and pino his friend.
angelo and simone.
a tight ship.

danella, gian, paula work
at cisternino.

the old man still sells prints near piazza navona.
thought he recognized me,
second time he didn't.

Wednesday, January 01, 2020

bright out

new year day month,
floating in my morning mind.
It looks like rain, didn't happen.
i used to look at the newspaper..
read some top stories anyway.

i'm ready. so is the coffee.
you know how quiet that makes the morning
when i'v got a cup i like.
sipping and looking out the window.
thinking of old times, happy to recall.

drifting again. salute with a bright smile.
making the morning look right.
know there is more.
the sky is clearing.

now i'm lightly spinning without direction,
never was my way.
need to figure the morning, where to go.
i'll get there. where i'm going. nothing changes.

Monday, December 30, 2019

rain on



take a steady winter rain,
enjoy the dreamy patter.

Saturday, December 28, 2019

tail end

the whole thing is nearly over.
dot  all the i's, cross a few t's

did the year
start by slipping along quickly...
seemingly well oiled...
month after month.
quicker than I imagined...

is this an interrogator?
a part of speech.

moved right along. daily.
did you see it go by?

Thursday, December 26, 2019

rain about

not enough to hardly say
more than a word about...i can
hold out my hand and feel
a drop i suppose...have to
walk down to the porch,
and it's early for that.  but '
i can hear it. that's the
best part...well, writing
 is good so you can
see it. all i've got to say is:
pretty damn warm for the
 last week in december. 

day beyond

Blank, oh
starting empty
and there is gladness for whoever needs it...
day after Christmas

speeding horse-drawn buggy
she's off and we're going to breakfast.
we pulled out lighter coats to wear.
we should be staring at each other...questioningly.

partly cloudy 62.
instead of buckling down for a snow storm.
it's off to shelby then to Planktown.
i wait in the car and watch

as five guys are
taking the old roof off,
putting on a new one.

slam bam, day after Christmas, it's sunny and dry.

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

world holiday

woke sneezing...
left-over cold held me tight.
It's not right,  it's time to move on.
for goodness sake
 Yeah, time to move on.
where are you?
forget about the cold business.

my dad was in the coal business.
folks shoveled coal into stoves to heat their homes. 
imagine winters like that?
i remember. i was born into it.

now, today, we're doing Christmas eve.
no snow anyway.
put your sleigh away, daniel.
plus, here's another thing,
we've turned the corner with the shortest day of the year.
so look ahead.
no need to shed a tear. summer is on the way-o.
we'll love the days ahead.
ole'  ole'

Sunday, December 22, 2019

a.m. i am

i feel like corn on the cob.
riding around in the wagon with my pals
getting smashed up all day.

or this may be morning thinking.
give me some coffee and a half hour,
i'll put this all together.

Sunday, December 15, 2019

times

many the times
we've  walked worn
grey, stone lines
alternating shadow and slips of sun,
a town rough to touch
smooth on the heart
under cold night lights or sun.
going to sit now and think about it.
here's a place.
ice cream and coffee.
just right in this
city of my dreams

Monday, December 09, 2019

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.

Tuesday, December 03, 2019

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.

Monday, December 02, 2019

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.

Saturday, November 30, 2019

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.

Friday, November 29, 2019

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.


Wednesday, November 27, 2019

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.

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

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.

Friday, November 22, 2019

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.

Thursday, November 21, 2019

main stay

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

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

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.

Sunday, November 17, 2019

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.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

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.

Monday, November 11, 2019

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.


.

Sunday, November 10, 2019

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

Thursday, November 07, 2019

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

Tuesday, November 05, 2019

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.




Saturday, November 02, 2019

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


Friday, November 01, 2019

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.

Thursday, October 31, 2019

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.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

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


Monday, October 28, 2019

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.



Friday, October 25, 2019

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.

Thursday, October 24, 2019

all fine i say


see solid blue up there.
not a cloud in the sky
simply quiet without a breeze, 
while we're running through October.

in reds and yellows
pure as gold that gleam
in yards, on streets.
leaves rolling in a stream








Wednesday, October 23, 2019

counting

what happened Netherlands?
200 souls reading my blog every day are gone.
a new counting system engulfed me
smoothing these pages of mine,

in addition, i saw the subtraction
of the Netherlands from the list.
a nice place. two weeks of
a few museums, Van Gogh,

art and science.
oh, tulips. Springtime.
we came during the right week.
sailed off on the great cargo ship Isadora

for America, with Captain Z,
Ralpho. a crew of twenty,
a good time.
a life-time adventure.
b.
this will put it right
my blogger control is out of hand.
why did i unfasten the gears?
even this is double spaced...why?

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

rain'll

waiting for the rain
they say is on the way;
dandy, eh?
i like it.

dark grey now.
lights'll be on
soon, baby, soon.
starting to look pretty out there.

our times

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

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

Monday, October 21, 2019

anon


Anonymous said ...

Superb blog! Do you have any recommendations for aspiring writers?
I'm planning to start my own website soon but I'm a little lost on everything.

Would you suggest starting with a free platform like Wordpress or go for a paid option? There are so many choices out there that I'm completely overwhelmed ..
Any suggestions? Thanks a lot!

anon? aspiring?
begin writing each day,
or so often you're confused
and it seems you are.

i use Blogger, it is free or
they haven't sent me a bill yet.
about twelve years, so they are tardy.
i write because i do, not for money.

that's fun to say. i suppose if i blogged
for cash i'd have quarters all over the table by now.
MandyTwo, could i have more coffee
and a bill, please.

say, anon, you have offered a good comment;
my suggestion to you is; read and write. enjoy yourself.
thank you, anonymous.
make a name for yourself.

Sunday, October 20, 2019

Sound of day and nite

at last the quiet
sound of afternoon
is holding low, i feel so near.

so soon the evening
running through the grass
in small steps touches my heart.

soft night train

no screeching last night.
in breaths of quiet, light wind
the train pattered in grandma’s slippers
sliding along the linoleum kitchen floor,
hardly going anywhere 

and the whistle was not a blaster,
instead it gave soft puffs
like puh, with a long breath between the next muh.
muh, ma, as if needed to be picked up and cuddled


Saturday, October 19, 2019

memory drawn - bused up

 

Monday, December 28, 2009


bused up

bused up
on the little bus
to the hill over Rome, Gianicolo,
where the noon cannon is fired

ever since the pope back in 1847
wanted his churches to
all know what time it was,
at least once a day

a crowd gathered to hear it
the cannon is loud
wasn’t precisely noon
should have covered my ears

then walked warm weather down
to old Trastevere
where our new favorite restaurant
was tried and confirmed

while walking back traffic was stopped
a helicopter hovered overhead
we waited to watch
something was about to happen

one cop called it a VIP cortege coming by
his word not mine
some Italian cops are literate
glad to hear it, anytime

fifteen cars and as many motorcycle police
and more police afoot every corner
all the way home they go to the Vatican
because the pope king went out for lunch

event over, we walked home
didn’t stop traffic
and didn’t cause any trouble either
as we shuffled along, all the way home

my cell phone has a clock on it
i could have told anyone the time
but no one asked
they must have heard the cannon

Friday, October 18, 2019

target

i wrote to my classmates,
this gave me a place to shoot my arrow.
with a target in mind i felt better.
the package contained reason.

years ago i knew i needed a target.
i let the idea escape me,
now i feel the tank again is filled.
put me on the road again..

also, thinking of poetry i've read
and parts i didn't like,
makes me feel better when my own weakness
i discover lying there in the street.

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

work in sandstone

watching young men
work with sandstone;
chip it out, lay it in place.

designing a walk in pieces.
to last if not forever
at least for a very long time.


Monday, October 14, 2019

Paradox - some places have poetry on or coming out of them

some places have poetry on or coming out of them
i’ve found them by carefully examining small beach stones,
under trees and near water, on forgotten notes in the pockets
of jackets i haven’t worn for a while,

i found poetry on city streets, especially at corners,
in crowded stores when the music’s not too loud
or on buses, on hot days or in rain or snow.
when vehicle gears shift and someone is directing traffic,

i feel poetry when i’m there, later, or passing by
no telling why it is so, a fireplace helps,
the coffee shop when the dream starts, or birds fly
a cloud tilts a certain way, how the waitress
places the menu down and walks
already a block away in her mind,

i feel poetry in the touch of polished old hand rail,
while taking a soft carpeted stair
and in the colors in a painting,
a landscape i once saw in a museum
that reminds me of poetry
in some place i want to be

and, about you,
do you feel poetry today?

Saturday, October 12, 2019

alarm some


much alarm about the harm
dividing a nation can do
i'll be quick, makes me sick
wacka do, wacka do, wacka do

***

no candidate wants to surrender.
not hillary when
people wanted bernie.
not bernie with a heart attack,
not trump when people
aren't aware how government...
fumigate it all, please.

politics is clean when i run it
in my dream.

you can understand the lure...
wave money and power at a politician,
make them damn near royal;

yet we don't know it all,
what are we missing?





Thursday, October 10, 2019

thanks for

thanks for stopping.
oh, the world is wide.
so much to see. rising,
falling, great is the tide.

my drop is company.
for both of us.
hold to the path.
we all lose our way.

clean water, clothes,
warm supper
made with love
and good intention.


Tuesday, October 08, 2019

crumbs a lot...for pleasure

i like two pieces
of toast in the afternoon.
at 18:07 i ate a sandwich m made.
will keep me looking out the window,

working or reading, wondering why
i can't put together another 
best poem. ingredients must be
here. rye toast. now, that got me

thinking. butter on top,
what it is, soulful surrender.
i misread seafood sensation.
thought before i read.

empty all pockets before
throwing pants in the wash.
man, i miss those maple trees.
grow overly large; however, do make a mess.

ok, i'm thinking about the above. it takes time to gel.

Sunday, October 06, 2019

Sure red

there is color around,
fall sound cracking,
Practically out of dream,
all you wish to hear.

yeah to the cities
to the mountain streams west,

while here in the midwest
we take our fall dry
and consider it best.

may as well because
color is the coat we're wearing.

Thursday, October 03, 2019

early evening


reading the news, occasionally 
glancing through the widow
to see the sun progress down,

thinking it comfortable,
convenient not having
to go out in public for work.

a renown sitar player performed
at a concert hall nearby,
i chose not to go.

supper was a tortillia with
chicken and cheese. quick and easy.
thanks, Meri.

i had a glass of red wine,
the first in a month,
now i am sitting quietly.

sometimes poems contain
no explosions.

Wednesday, October 02, 2019

bali

island jungle music
the islanders in waves of exploitation.
rapid rhythm gongs,
never heard music like it before
Oberlin college opens another gate
this is the strangest concert i've ever attended,
and i enjoyed it. i'mglad it ended when it did,
i can only take so much strange and bell sounds.
---
An 18-member ensemble weaves layers of intricate sound: the punctuation of deep great bronze gongs; charismatic leadership from the drums; stunning interlocking percussion from the bronze gangsa; and finely elaborated delicacy of voice and flute.
---
we go in the auditorium,
she wants to sit farther back this time.
i pick seats in the seccond half, middle.
the musician people come in and play.
it happens that fast.
strange music.  little gongs mostly.
some slapping and knuckle knocking on wooden drums.
indescrible. it goes on.

---

Internationally hailed as one of Bali’s most forward thinking music and dance ensembles, Çudamani is known for their exceptional creativity and superb artistry and also their unflagging love for the classical treasures of Balinese tradition. Nurtured and trained in the village of Pengosekan, the group is among Bali’s most respected and accomplished.

One of their many singular features is that many of their artists are multidisciplinary, mastering gamelan, dance, voice, and visual art resulting in artistically unified presentations.


The ensemble touches the soul with a program that spans the spectrum of human emotion, from sublime to fearless, from reverent to unapologetically playful. Çudamani intrigues the mind and heart and a radiant flash of their eyes invites you into the transcendent experience of Balinese gamelan and dance.


Gamelan Çudamani




Monday, September 30, 2019

rain september

fall rain is the best;
or i'm just saying
because it's so firm now,
happening, tapping
itself out like a song.
you're smiling.
  

Saturday, September 28, 2019

thorn

returning from the mailbox didn't linger,
walking up the back steps...
i slipped...crabbed for the hand rail.
caught a large rose thorn with my finger.

told meri when she got back from the store,
she said to ask the troll people for help,
it's four o'clock and she has a game to watch.
my finger is blood smeared, i didn't yelp.

plain day

cherry pie and vanilla ice cream,
what's what i remember of lunch.
coffee too, that's it. that additional thing;
black coffee, no cream no sugar.

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

dry september

half-hour drive into the sun rise,
light traffic on the road.
found our slot in the lot behind the restaurant.
a breath of wind, calm autumn.

took a table along the back side.
place full up, yet easy going.
course we started with coffee.
slid into wednesday morning.

pancakes and eggs over,
rye toast and butter.
she did the driving,
picked up eggs at Planktown.


Monday, September 23, 2019

the way of rain


we're in a gap, a dry spell.
comes as a surprise, not thinking about it,
it's pouring or not.
then we simply forget and it dries up, hot.

i'd rather walk or drive in the country.
i know it'll be wet again soon.
that was yesterday, this morning i woke to wet all over,
light, clean, cool, it's raining.

Saturday, September 21, 2019

make a line


if you have a parking lot
park all the yellow cars together,
see who notices and asks you why.
if we worked hard we could put together a load of ideas.

stack cars on top of others.
based on heaven knows what,
meaning: i can't figure how to do it.
one hand can hold your hair back.

start there, think what you like.
get a menu, you can pick and chose.
i'm looking around to see
what can be found.

there is one thing to say,
shake it out, dust it off.
next, we're on the border-line.
don't want to keep you waiting.

someone said  kind words about this writing
i'm grateful. i'll sit a while without a sound
taking time, it appears i'm thinking.
you're looking fine.  is that a distraction?

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

drag on


ok, so, for all who support me,
can you make toast, eh?

falling leaves in colors orange to red.
is that the order? does it matter?
this morning the sun is sparkling in my eye,
feeling good, warming. festive, practically.

and sipping coffee, thinking toast...
how about you...how you doing?
good morning...always a good start on the day.
what do you say, going my way?

i read some poems and was fascinated
by the thinking, or the ways i'm led
by what is said by word thinkers - writers.

some putting poems in their heads,
reciting to others...crash poems.
a bag full. i can only imagine, or listen
or read them.  a speed zone full.

hey, with sun in my eye i prefer
a slow hill climb, to the top,
taking it easy, geting my fill that a way.
taking time to think about it.

Monday, September 16, 2019

mr. safety town



mr. safety town i am.
but, let her drive anyway;
put my arm out for extra signal.
it 's fun riding with bare feet on the dash.

noise void


nothing hardly,
windows open,
no sounds in utter quiet.
old house to us blank empty,
barely anything,
sleep on mats,
clean echoes, zero to hear.
two street lamps across the street
shine all night on us
in our cottage in the woods.
why the lights?

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Thursday, September 03, 2009

apple cake

from a peg on the wall she took up
her worn canvas bag by the shoulder strap
said come on, we’re going to pick apples
near the corner across the street in the empty lot

there’s a neglected, half dragging to the ground,
poorly shaped, unremarkable old tree
not worth a glance,
and loaded with apples

we ate one to sample
half red, half yellow, a little strange to look at
but fresh off the tree
it was some old variety

forgotten, unattended and delicious apples
she filled the sack with a dozen or so
when she said she had enough,
we walked home

late that afternoon, after other tasks
by September sun streaming into the kitchen
she made an apple upside down cake
augmenting a vintage recipe found on the Internet

an hour after dinner
we each had a piece
of the best apple cake
i ever had tasted in my life




It would be too easy for M. and I to eat the whole thing, so I took the rest to my brother’s family. For us, there is always tomorrow.

the heights

Monday, September 21, 2009

to the heights

to the Heights, a country small town
nearby, yet aloof from modern ways
where farmers and country survive
and some of their kids go away to school in the cities
take jobs, live afar and return now and then
for holidays, alternate years

their folks stay on
in touch with the soil
clean, neat and country casual for a Sunday
standing tall as they can
walking leaning, a bit slower

these remaining have been small town friendly for years
know the families, names from long ago
and can recall some of the faces
now under the headstones
on the treed lofty knoll

there is a chicken barbeque today
at this conservation club
no telling what they are conserving
kindness and good will for sure

the building is set back on a large area in an otherwise field
the road in waggers as if the guys who dragged it out
changed their minds two or three times before
they settled on how to get from here to there

and the twenty or thirty cars already there
were parked in the field over a few acres
like dominoes thrown out of a box
and where they landed is where they sat
independent parkers they are

this yearly event we’ve been waiting for
three hundred tickets were sold they say
the money raised will keep the group going
about thirty folks there at the start when we were
maybe fifty
half again that number just neighborly helping out
i didn't try to count, they were spread out nicely

rear double doors were open to the beginning
of the green and rust colored stick crackling woods
in mild temperatures and near idle breeze
on the cusp of another change
summer to fall

had covered long tables, sturdy folding chairs
set with plenty space between to walk
and clean silverware, no plastic for
these folk of dirt, cast iron, seed and steel

the building’s maintained in good repair
someday they’ll pave straighten that winding road in
or sell the whole damn chuck to a developer, if and when

barbequed chicken was the draw today
and these hens were as large as small dogs
and twicet as tasty as you could ever imagine

spoke with old Reece, one of the volunteers
heard he deeded his downtown brick building
the decorative grey century one on Main
resplendent with curiosities and used books
to the local historical society

our common friend dick, who visited us in Rome
will be coming soon, here’s where he was raised
with a smile on his face and mud in his toes

today's group was quiet well mannered
stayed on the business of eating
and getting to the desert table
in no rush orderly fashion

i had a slice of crispy near warm apple pie
made from experience by Aldean
as she stood alone by her kitchen window
taking care and good intentions
thinking of her family while using well hewn skill
that would’a made her mother proud

after we did the deed on the chicken
during which time we made new acquaintances
and refreshed old ones
we waved goodbyes and moved on
out the door and beyond
into our own tomorrow

Thursday, September 24, 2009

i am Wicks, i'll be your server tonight

well, Wicks, hi, i’d shake hands but
obviously, you’re moving too fast
i’m jack, but i’d prefer you call me grandpa
no one else does

well they do once in a while
but they live a half a planet away
grandpa jack is what they say, but
plain grandpa is more enduring don’t you think

my grandparents lived thirty minutes away
but people didn’t drive as much back then
a half century ago, one i’d see one once a year
the other i’d see Christmas and Easter

anyway, doesn’t matter to anyone now does it.
say, my sister Nita taught me to drive
when i was eleven in her old Oldsmobile on Rye Beach Road
i’ll have to ask her if she was married then

parts of the story are unraveling
and half the cast have gone away
i’ll look into that, gone away stuff,
someday, won’t we all

listen, Wax, you don’t mind if
i keep talking to you, do you?
not out loud, in my head, think talk like
blink if you can hear me

Monday, September 09, 2019

all to say


mom, your baby boy is old and crippled.
sitting on the porch when the mailman came,
heard the lid on the box close;
said hi but no reply,

talk too softly usually.

i told m, she got the mail from the box on the gate.
that's my poem for today,
full up, emptied out, all i had to say.

Friday, September 06, 2019

fred's in sausalito

how many do you want?
we knew the system.
the waitress drew on the order pad.
one circle for each pancake ordered.

weekends they came a long way
to order circles.
we walked a short distance
to order our circles.

Thursday, September 05, 2019

sun over all

average starting day.
a nothing special time of the week.
a period of hours from
sun to sun, of this i speak.
pressure added, atypical.
look. there is sun.
warming. totally wonderful.
sun full of wonder.
oh, yes.
all you do is look around.

Tuesday, September 03, 2019

a trip

so soon it seems
to be back again,
it is called a trip
to the dentist.
hear me now: the guy is smooth.

Sunday, September 01, 2019

August 1

First day thinking cold.
The season has rolled over.

Saturday, August 31, 2019

calm

turning to fall, calm and grey.
a quiet day.

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

raining


it's raining drops heavy as rocks,
solid drum beats on the roof,
haven't heard tapping like that for a while;
rain enough to slow traffic.
the bubbling puddles come alive.

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

new post

don't know what day it is,
not the date or day of the week.
i can guess, and miss by a mile.
it's not important to me.
this is all good news.
now i can get paint out
and capture what i see in color.
sounds good, but won't happen.
here is where i will note the day,
in thought and words...okay.
they say it may thunder,
i hope it does; that's the kind of scary interruption i like.

Monday, August 26, 2019

song writer


seeing a song written out, music and words, is like seeing handwriting:
no matter how you feel about the song, when written down
you can gather a feeling for the writer.


paul mcartney, ned washington, paul simon, you and me.


Thursday, August 22, 2019

water be

you know there's
waterbe fallin', wet all over.
greets me first thing in the morning
when looking out the window.

wet all over.
so that's the kind of day it is,
i'll get used to it.

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

mmmmn sweet corn

corn is golden
though color is secondary
when cob roasted...then
served with butter on,
and salt.


Tuesday, August 20, 2019

poems on the run/roast


at times i write them
want to hold them tight
not turn grey mice poems loose
out of the sock drawer

snap go now puppies on the run
out on their own
beyond my control
out of reach, out of sight

crossing the street
against the light
a lone drifter may find them
some blue dark still night

perhaps, and take comfort
then i guess it’s alright
the preceding has been noble, thus,
considering the source, largely untrue

so there goes nobility shit out the window
chasing my poems
what is left pass around
to you and you and you

it’s okay, Descartes wrote:
i think therefore i am
okay, i think i can
go along with that.



an some sonofapup drifter is liable
to catch my poems
cook them, debone 'em
or eat 'em alive

steps



needed front steps, not wood,
in our town it’s normal to call a cement contractor
that’s a guy who has a truck and pours cement
no problem, i’d call a guy, then another and another
the job to pour three steps was too small to be bothered with
they had big jobs, long driveways and whatever
that kept them from my three tiny steps

so i thought and thought - and thought of stone
okay, they wouldn’t come to pour cement,
our house was built in 1838, i’d get vintage stone steps

at the quarry the nice folks said they could do it,
cut Indiana Blue Sandstone that i selected, and deliver it,
set the stone down one , two, three, all i had to do
was provide the dimensions for three blocks i wanted, that was it

i had to prepare the ground, no one else would do it,
so i raked, then measured the first block,
the second had to fit back under the wood of the door,
the third had to be even with the inside floor.
one, two, three

for three weeks i planned. the first time I measured I thought I had it
a few days later i checked my figures and they were wrong, so i did it again
how simple, three blocks, one, two, three on top of each other, that’s it
it was many days to get it right.

on and on i figured stone dimensions, and finally i had it right.
the bottom block was largest,
the second and third were equally smaller.
it all would fit, everything was right.
the day they delivered the stone in a large truck with a crane,
they had one block cut wrong by two inches on one side.

i recalculated and told them how to put them down. one, two, three
in a half hour there were down and perfect,
you can’t see a cutting error.
now we have our three stone steps
the bottom, the second recessed under the Georgian doorway
the third level with the inside wood floor

come back in two hundred years
the house may be gone,
but the steps will be there

Sunday, August 18, 2019

jet lag

rushed out of the airport
jumped in a cab
went seventy-five feet
the guy slammed on the brakes

wasn’t a taxi, picked up his mother
made me get out
i know mama liked me
as he squealed off, she waved goodbye

Saturday, August 17, 2019

zipping

like a dog in a car
riding face first
hanging halfway out the window
what a highway we’re zipping

on a ball sailing through space
throttle to the floor
don’t need a pedigree
any mutt can do it

this is big fun
i wanna do it
my cheeks are flapping
hey, is anybody steering?

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

early america

went back
to a corner in america,
checked it out a few days.
how different to go there,
was like another country.
so quiet; with more trees than automobiles.
silence the way it used to be.

back then,
shorty after the united states was found
the population leaped in number.
they wanted more room.

the first town in the country's western expansion
is Marietta, on the Ohio River.
across from West Virginia.
so may trees all around.

we went through the old village and cemetery.
in the center saw the ancient Indian mound.
then rode a paddle wheeler to an island,
where we took a wagon drawn by two horses.
deer in a field stood still, looked back at us.
stopped in two museums.

the trip took us back in time.
many workers wore costumes of the past.
in all,  it was a good trip, different;
a good time
on a hot august day.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

italian holiday


Ferragusto, a public holiday. Introduced by Gaius Octavius 'Augustus'
after his victory over Mark Antony at the Battle of Actium on 2 September, 31 BC.

time to escape the heat,
anywhere you can go;
at the mountains, lakes or seaside.
it'll be a long weekend celebration or most of august.
friends and family gather
for the Italian mid-August summer holiday
with music, food, wine, and joy.
in the hills, on farms, in villages...
summer's celebration.
Don't you love it.

Monday, August 12, 2019

light summer rain


driving easy through light summer rain,
refreshing fields and flowers.

Saturday, August 10, 2019

chi

Quiet, easy.
Move with the sun.

Friday, August 09, 2019

the team

young and old together, excited talking fans standing ready
for the gates to open,
soon to be electrified by the game;
a double-header.

at last gates open...the crowd comes apart.
we burst in en masse.

our seats are good,
we overlook the diamond and field,
so do the rest of 38 thousand
Cleveland Indianites.

we are the fans, we cheer.
a fight until the end, both ends.
our team is victorious - twice.

from the shire


look and see, anonymous commented,
and there must be a group,
because they claim to be starting a
"new scheme in our community." those words caught my attention. it seems my writing has "performed a formidable process." does that seem right to you? now their entire community, i don't know how large it is, will probably be grateful. later someone will conclude success evidently. what does this mean? give me a simple happy face with birds in the breeze on wing gliding o'er the lake.

Monday, August 05, 2019

bobber


Lenovo i've had five years,
open it everyday
and didn't know the name of this computer.
call it Becky...or Bob.
no, bob sounds too much like
fishing things in the water,
called a bobber. i more or less googled that.
that's me and fishing, don't know to call bobbers.

breakfast in Shelby, in celebration of not being there a week.
the first string working today, all okay.
Mandy 2 did our coffee, Mandy 1 took the order
and delivered.

sky is good, weather fine.
heading home, down the line
a young Mennonite in long
dress and bonnet on a bicycle,
pulled happy kid in a wagon
who calmly looked around
comfortably taking in the position
he was in on a light breeze, sunny,
warm august morning.

he'll learn different things, different ways,
but won't know the name of my computer either.
please may he have a pond and a bobber.





***
i know: some are capitalized
later i may determine what is important

Or quit worrying about it.


Sunday, August 04, 2019

Why my phone rings

Hello.

Hi, this is Holly Jones from the prophecy department.

Say what? 

Hi, this is Holly Jones from the prophecy department.

You called me for something...a reason?