the buffalo

some rainy, foggy, chilly midweek

when secretaries call in sick
and postmen wear goulashes
go to the zoo and take in what’s left

splash along the water-covered concrete
past occasional trees bent, looking away
from the wind’s lick

see the muddy, mucky, peanut-shelled patch
where there stands the buffalo
knee-deep, with dirty, unkempt, matted hair
his eyelids closing out the drizzle
shoulders that held up america

clothed the indians in a montana mountain snow
fed starving wagoneers not quite to the promised land
mark of the plains
symbol of an era

it is fitting that he be visited
for his eyelids are closing now, america

ringing

my ears ring in the quiet.
i have to think to notice.
you'd say it is not possible
to hear what isn't.

i must occur to me
before i notice the space;
the lack of audio.
that's ear ringing.

now, where are the tapping woodpeckers.
there is wood enough.
perhaps it is a season when they tap more.
this is worth a lifetime of study.

Deer gone

didn't wake in time to see them.
no doubt they're here.
 quiet day. Worked some.
Giacomo called. Good to hear from him.
he's going to notorcycle to Switzerland.
what a wonderful breath of fresh air.
good views and great chocolate.
chocolate there is better.
you can taste the difference.
here we've rain a little.
it is accurate to say it that way.
fairly warm, quiet as usual.
i'm going to have
to go out a little.
to check it out.

tension

Indians baseball wrings tension out of me,
now i've less to worry about.
we're not paying to see
the indians on tv.

all my life i could see a game on tv, now they want an extra forty bucks a nonth.
the players get several million a year, and they want the fans to cough up the extra bucks and cheer for the tribe. they're asking a lot.
i can hardly stand it, drives me nuts.

new boy

all right, we're heading home.
enough tough play,
settle in with good manners.
hurray, we're happy, ole', ole'

now change to let feeling
into your heart.
i'm thinking.
do you want some ice cream?

sitting back in the sunshine,
keep an eye on how the day goes.
put on your favorite clothes.
time to be happy again.
.

bison

So, a lady in a national park

is running away from a bison;

falls down and has to lie still

and get sniffed by the bison.

Water will fall

there may be rain this afternoon.
yesterday i saw it forecast.
low nineties, a temperature leap.
remembering water all around
yes, the old days. takes me to Sausalito,
home amid boats. the bay is ours.
phone talking to my daughter in california.
good to hear her voice.
out the window, a blue jay in a bush
falls down and rolls on the ground.
looked like a hard fall. oh, the things
i see out the window.

now a truck is out front ready to pull
out a pole and put in a new one.
movement between lunches
and naps. the city goes on.
i hope it's a good thunderstorm.

all in

drove by to see how life happens
in Grafton and Shilo
drive-by towns unknown to most,
 even if you live close.

plus parts outside, beyond the regular.
people walked on the street.
we are nearby and busy
as we could be.

park & amp; ride,
clouds above, she cried.
press to operate,
she stepped off the curb, go 

meri thinks the new doctor
shouldn't dress like
the weather girl.
well, honey, "you

were always on my mind."
Willie Nelson sings for me.
i'll eat those sugarless candies
and move on down the line.

courage doc, please.

Microsoft Edge has invited itself into my computer.

looking around i found it.

i am supposed to care if large companies battle.

now the great computer edge in the sky

has jammed itself into my computer

at no additional cost,

want a cup of coffee while i tell you?

in my computer, you must move lightly, okay?

outside i take hours of flowers blooming, 

presuming i'm ready

to flower up again, when i've been

steady in the rain, searching

for dream ideas in bunches

and sunshine.

just shoot across the still pond

in your canoe

paddle lightly, with breeze anointing

you'll zip along.

i'll meet you there...where i'm pointing.

The rabbit's life

heat's up
better to stay indoors and look out
to the world racing by.
what a fine day this is.
for one, the rabbit came back
to lay around in the overgrown yard.
here it is hot and evidently, he
doesn't drink much, just eats greens.
that's healthy.
takes his liquid from plants.
we put a ceramic dish of water out,
hope he finds it.
anyway, it is good to see
the rabbit.

rain louder than the train

rain louder than the train.
harvest moon, so soon it seems,
though it's been a year;

this night i stayed in bed, didn't open the curtain to look.
then a brilliant flash at three
and i counted the seconds, nine, ten, eleven...rumble.
again a flash - i counted to nine that time.
nine miles away.

i imagine the storm diminished
as i slept again
until rolling thunder when i woke at six.
left to right, across the sky.
and the rain was louder than the train...two trains around seven.
rain pouring hard on and off this morning.

This night i count as one i slept well,
wrapped in good thought and dream.
how about you...how'd it seem?



(The Harvest moon occurs in September or October, but I put it into today's poem.
Oh, I like those train whistles.)

this Wednes day

Cooking warm today.
sticky already, before noon.
hot day underway,,
talk of cooking,
don't heat the kitchen. not today.

you have air cooling? crank it on.
or windows open and a fan,
that will do, well. a fan helps, windows won't.

I'm happy just because.
The heat won't knock my Wednesday out of whack.
i can take it. are you onboard?
Charge into what's coming this day.
the mailbox is empty. i rattled it.  Wait, i just heard a train going by.
That is a pleasure. Makes my day. Let me hear those whistles blow.
One for Old Lonesome, Piute Jerry,  Cutter Bill, and one for me.

edge note

Microsoft Edge has invited itself into my computer.

i am supposed to care as large companies battle.

how did i get involved?  i have no uniform.

"Good morning, Jack, Where is your logo?"

i recently gained eight pounds; lost two yesterday.

i'm on my way back.

sunshine today, warm tomorrow.

partially warm enough now.

note this, Sunshine,

i'd have pancakes with you

if i wasn't planning on losing

another two pounds today like yesterday.

maintain

maintain food

grow it, store it, beans, rice.

flour, salt, sugar, canned food.

write it down.

make notes to see how it's going.

walking outside to see what's growing.

i'm out there

before noon when it is cool.

hear the birds, good signals.

all is well this morning.

a berry pie is just a thought,

not ready for it now, thinking ahead.

the birds seem more organized than people.

they don't bake, they eat berries off the trees.

virus is in the news. spreading.

no answers yet from anyone.

i see few people out,

a few walking their dogs.

at the market some wear masks.

what is happening, where is this going?

Morning heat

• couldn't find her,

the plumber is on his way.
she's far out mowing,
now wearing a cooling rag on her head;
it's a new invention.

i pushed the mower so she could hear that it is so quiet. she worried about disturbing beighbors. they never think that way.
out and back for me.
that's my time limit. although,
i like even a 90 degree humid day;
heat beats winter freeze.


.

Where on ya

 near the lake now.
  few blocks away.
pulled into an old shopping lot,
 giant stores run down, closed.
   my goodness. acres of space,
room for a thousand cars.
a few cars are parked,
maybe twenty if you count them all.
  nothing happening now.
the virus makes life slow.
 we could get some ice cream
on the way home. forget it.

Wednesday

these stacks of days
are weeks and we are in the
middle of another one.

we've seen a few whiz by.
 nailed to the floor, held heaven high.
talked out, photographed, forgotten.

a smile goes a long way
to keep days precious.
of them, we'll recall what we can.

ringo

Ringo, Ringo is eighty
happy birthday drummer
we remember you as it happened.
the Beatles explosion,
hah, from New York the Ed Sullivan TV show.
how wound up we all were.

then there they were.
"She loves you."
here back in 20 20, the year we are
in up to our necks and tired
of trump and want less of him
and his family.
clean the way please.
dump the viri while you're at it.
 okay, viruses is the correct word.
not as attractive, like nothing about it.
we have to clear the counter of all
unappealing clutter.
simple again is where to get to,
where we want to go.
we want less to worry about.
better conditions
let the old tunes play
with nothing in the way
for enjoyment, we all. for us. need some.
 heaven help us, why not. and for our friends.
and strangers, they want it too, goodness.
we'll be better. we will do better.
Ringo is eighty today. he's good,
so for him and us.
yeah, yeah yeah.

seasonal heat

well, if it were a winter storm

i'd stay indoors until it passed.

yes, now comes heat again.

heavy this time. 93 and humid,

that is the difference. this temperature is nothing

out west where humidity is low.

at least we have thick walls

and air cooling. so all is well.

the projection is nothing too much.

here out the window, she is cleaning weeds,

a few, and i asked of the small white bulbs.

she said they are wild onions or garlic

and i can eat them. one will kill me

the other won't. when we were kids

we ate a bite of a lot of plants.

not knowing which are deadly.

we heard about the deadly plants

but never had a bite of one, evidently.

warm days

 creating warm days
seems to be what's up.
tied in a row.  day after another.

although here is an idea not happening now,
i can picture riding in the country,
far out. pretty, and peaceful.

thinning out

definitely fewer people
out making loops,
it seems to me.
watch them pass
going around the block
or where they go, usually.
not counting how many, you see,
notice is all. it happens.

can't stall the temperature rising.
for sure, rising. noticing that too.
 yeah, and it is easy to take.
can enjoy the out of doors.
i think of the lake.
and paths through the woods.
we are given well.

Hot

this is the opposite
of winter.  all the things
you can think of. all the
food and clothes, places
 to go, what to do. here is
summer giving you a hug.
laying it all on a table nicely
set with the finest silverware,
napkins, glasses, soft music,
smells from the kitchen,
and you ready for it all.  like
your dreams. complete.

seventh month

we never called the month by number
although it's recognizable.
the number name emits a flavor.
seems solid.
here's another particular to month seven:
lightening bugs, an all-around favorite.
they too have their season; this one, and we love 'em.
the reason is obvious,
they've come up with
something beautiful and unique.

when they begin to show

they don't sting and they
don't make any noise.
you want to follow them around.

keeping words lined

keeping words lined
to the point, I wasn't sure of
the significance when I wrote those
words until I looked at the cement birdbath
and saw it on the ground.
catastrophe.

no doubt squirrel brought it down,
jumping on the edge. not continuously,
a jump at a time, and hanging on the
side until he brought it down.
i say he because i'm not used to animal talk
where you say which animal without
reference to sex.

the squirrel didn't break, merely upset the heavy dish.
This is living in harmony with animals,
with the animals kept outside.
where they ought to be.
Squirrel especially.

To think a few years ago i fed
one squirrel by hand.
and keeping words lined,
 like you, i don't know what it means.

return

where dream world is,
i keep going

two some from B4

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.

at Saturday, November 12, 2011 2 comments Links to this post

words and music by jack s.

part decorative wood from Lincoln’s time
half recently constructed stone storage space
all overlooks the economically withering small town and an ugly
car wash across the street, with a coke machine that lights up

i have obtained the three thousand square foot
industrial building to write and play in.

i have embraced this space

have photos and dreams of being there
producing massive amounts of gems.
piles horded and distributed to the urchins

that look like overweight immature vandals;
short people not developed in any sense,
running in wild packs, probably to and from
that elementary school around the block,

and the legends will be created
by slouching legions carrying torches in the night
mobs of outcasts cutting vegetables for soup
blocks away from any used car dealership and

churches with a monument for the saints of another culture, generations ago
that are told in prayers and whispers to salt the wound, would you do that

to yourself or animals unless for cooking?
i'd get a caldron, check if open fires are legal

but they won’t stop me from
dreaming
for all the belching smoke and stench
i can produce in my dream caldrathon

Quiet now

Several spaces are open
for cars, for walking,
for anything you want
because no one is out
doing anything nearby.
the mailman and occasional neighbors
are seen
the sky is a thick grey
full up cloudy,
while we have temperatures locked in the mid-eighties
and all the humidity you can bear.
still, i find the day to my liking.
delightful.
because of the virus there are
not many folk visable.
the internet takes me around,
the radio too.walking in the yard,
seeing the birds, chipmunks,
tracks of the deer
keep me aware.



Gee i say folk in the vernacular
and get leaned on for it.

blank shore

trees were rocking,
sounded like the sea.
blowin' up a storm
right above me.

a lot of power
beyond my reach;
blew hard for an hour,
now let's go to the beach

rain more

this morning pressed in
with packages of gray clouds
filling the sky.
there is no mist.
wind is rubbing tree branches,
making clicking sounds.
 birds some call clearly.

feel the air and wow.
humidity, how you're
grabbing us.
there would be
a smack of sun if big sky
 felt able. but now no,
maybe later.
 we haven't used sun up
so, wait, see how
this day develops.
smile patiently
from your heart.

deer and eagles

we're not in the country

just down the street aways;

enough so when we

look out in the mornings

we see deer now and then

slipping by in quiet hours

with their family.

they have no natural predators

large cats and bear are gone.

in Ohio 184,000 deer were

killed by hunters last year,

the only pretators they have.

when i was young

they were a handful.

now there are 707 bald eagle

nests in ohio.

that was the figure for May.

they're multiplying.