rain mostly

for today the weather is messed up.
forecasters give us a 90 percent chance of rain
outside ... right here, around here.
well, it isn't giving, they offer.

and chance seems the wrong word.
likely hood. two words.
probability, that's it. 
messy, all over the streets.

when rain turns to snow.
i know the large dump trucks parading  around
will dump tons of salt to be smashed all over the streets.
and you can sit at the table and look out the window.

about a winter concert

okay ... that's a breath,
now i'll tell you ... as i recall,
of an afternoon concert in late February.
the Cleveland Orchestra, so it's again
Severance Hall, what a place.
their home zone.
Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor ...
top of the heap, and composer of
Mediations on Rilke. also, we heard
Symphonie Fantastique by Berlioz.
we sat on the aisle, row five and wow.
those musicians worked hard for us
to fill the hall
with solid, good sound ...
they succeeded.
what pleasure

alluring titles

reading the titles of my poems,
expecting to find them interesting.
some are, others not all.
to read in ten seconds with
no twist or depth on all.

give me more than a tantalizer.
dish me out substance.
 how about a topic.
start there. mind if i talk to you?
a campfire by the river.
i wait for you, you wait for me?
get the fire going. we'll be warm.

i'll button my coat to the collar,
see if that helps.
as i notice the ground outside disturbing,
bright light, no snow.
i found i'd written the same thing
several years ago,
this surprise at February no snow.

give me a chill breeze
or i'll wait inside for a weather change.
maybe fill my poem with genuine attraction.
or i need a drive around
to look in the fields.
there always is something going on there.

Dreams I recall

been remembering my dreams,
with a good flash in the morning,
then forget to write them down. 

these days of winter

morning clear sky, a pleasant, bright, light blue.
very pretty, even amazing.
seems i could reach out, wave my hand and touch it.
and overall the weather feels as if it could become even unseasonably warmer soon.

don't know what to think of that.
there is all the talk of climate change and global warming.
we don't know where it is going to lead.

the populace in the immediate vicinity seems to be taking time easily.
moving along each day with no apparent hurry.
i can say each night i'm sleeping well in good dream.

daytime cool temps cold, not frigid,
with no snow here in mid-February.
it is dry weather.

i've been writing notes; although thinking cream pie while eating less in general.

mon

the Monday pickup trash day in Norwhere.
you know how it goes
we're not there
so it isn't serious.
though a slow day of
rain and snow-melt
in the depths of my soul
i hear the train call
to wake me in the middle of my heavy thought
i turned once, remained quiet.

we were rated the number two radio station in los angeles.
i asked him what he wanted,
our program director doubted we could be number one.
i delivered in top fashion.
in a year we became number one in los angeles.
with the largest radio audience in america.

with eyes open i lay figuring what is next.
wait and see i say to myself
wait and see
intention. 

posture

sit up straight.
i'm not the one to be giving orders,
however, it is a point worth mentioning.
don't slouch;
stand tall as you can.
leave the others to do what they may.
be proud of your self.
so, that means a little smile is necessary.
now get along and be the best you can.

colding

this happened today
18 degrees only.
tomorrow and the week ahead
warmer weather they say.
slightly warmer,
but just enough to mention it ...
maybe that much.

snow moon

there's a snow moon,
an old moon.
the glow moon
 you'll see

i'm on board.
will hang on tight.
as the moon is bright.
look beyond the swirling clouds
into the twisting light;
wait for me.

deer out

3:00 the world was silent

got up to see five large deer

on the lawn in heavy snow.

all sound stopped.

a good quiet

blanket

blanket white, can't see rolling as you go on, out far, lost in pale colorlessness.
 i can hardly distinguish a shade.
winter, there you are
lying down outside.

headline news

headline news
has me confused
had eggs for breakfast
one piece of toast
eating better ... less, not more.
it's Tuesday, a theatrical play tonight.

so many stories
from around the world.
talking the news thing.
not trump the buffoon.
he can squeak his own wheels.

hello my friends.
dear hearts.
did i tell you i can't find the sixty dollars of paint i bought in december.
i need to paint a bit,
and put writing in order.

let me think pizza, some,
decent pizza;
it is appropriate
to put on my mind.
the rest of life and the news will fit around it.

three feb

monday 3 feb, outside is warm.
no snow,  it's not like i've seen.

how could i, why should i
talk about the warm?

because february never
happened like this before.
when i repeat myself,
it's because i'm rattled.
that's good, because i'm paying attention.

warm

winter is too warm.
can do harm.
we may never know.
wait and see.

another sandwhich

made a sandwich

like the other day.

called it lunch,

returned to pick up

where i found a good rhyme ... 

only i forgot 

the good rhyme, 

it was nowhere 

to be found.

a once a year rhyme 

turned its back on me, 

jumped ship. 

special because i  don't often dwell in rhyme. 

so when i find a good one 

like this, it is exceptional.

now what is exceptional is: 

i lost it. 

seemed evident i'd find it 

waiting for me. too large an occasion 

to be overlooked. so i made this note

to exhibit the importance

of my lost rhyme.
sadly, didn't help.
if i can recover
i will.

could

forget winter for now,
there is no cold or snow;
although next week could change everything.
i'll be eating oatmeal and looking out the window.
meanwhile, i could read, paint or write
all day, all night.
see how it goes.
change everything,
work in different sizes,
paint on the wall instead of canvas.
you think?

between

sure in between,
not cold or warm ...
thinking lunch.

had a sandwich.
no snow coming.
this is late january.

hardly gets below freezing at night.

new snow

flakes float down.
a few, enough to make us feel
it is practically winter ...
and enough
to wind out January ...
all we're going to get.

Mail

this mail delivery person is a guy.
took it out of his hand.
i got it as he smiled.
seemed easy.

however, i missed a package on the porch.
didn't see it.
and another in the mailbox...
didn't check.

thought how things got messed up.
kept going over the mental list,
thinking of stuff piled on.
jeeze o-pete.

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.

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.

snow some

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.