I
here i am, there are no geese.
must i go looking
in the usual places
where they congregate,
i don’t think so;
they can wait
and better they do,
a lesson for them all.
they know only their own reflection in the lake.
if they can recall other than their own image,
let them vent their wings and
see if they can find me.
a walk on the pier will show me many fish,
occasional mouth open bobbers and long swelling floaters,
but i don’t want to encounter any geese;
not that way, not today, not yet anyway.
II
wretched clean up
after a winter of winds blowing sticks,
knocking things about and new spring growing,
making a mess that we will reassemble into order;
it has to be done,
our part of the bargain
for being people living in this community.
have you noticed, the lucky nonliving don’t do shit.
they lie still in the recently frozen soil
watch the stars, wait for visitors,
or walkabout, return to favorite haunts in cover of darkness
or in thin air, thinking thoughts they didn’t know they could in life.
so i gave a kid relative of a neighbor
five bucks to cut our long front lawn.
when he finished tipped him a dollar for immediate service.
his two minutes would take forty-five from my life.
the kid is a tall, well built,long hair seventeen.
at that age i could have sliced weeds and then run the gauntlet,
now a wobbly sixty-five, can use the help
and kids always need money. good for both of us.
earlier i asked the school teacher next door how much
should i offer the lad to mow, he said five or ten.
this neighbor cuts it for us for free when we’re away.
teaches fifth grade math but not economics.
III
Frank the bluegill is gone from our pond
should i cast along the bottom with a net
dragging for skeletal remnants, traces
or did an invader, man or egret, go fishing.
no frogs yet, not this first of May.
they’ll come home in due time,
when it’s warm, humid, still and bugs are about.
scratch that last; there is one out there barking now.
IV
old friend LeeH. wrote to tell me of poet Wallace Stevens;
said my stuff was reminiscent. thought he joked
until i kept reading; it's a stretch, but now with a thousand
poems down i learn something new. that’s how life goes,
especially when you tire
of your own reflection in the water
and then pick your head up and look around.
there are nearly seven billion of us in this pond.
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
reading sign
i need go over again,
searching carefully each clue
as to where is up
for me, for you, it keeps changing
there’s been faint trace
like a bird puff gone to wind,
aloft - the shifting of the old tree.
ground level - wind licking long strokes in lawns
stuff is old, i see it around me
don’t let me kid myself
the wind is cold by night
as day old dinner left lying on the shelf
rampant speculation leads to inaccuracies
following closely pit padding heels of worry
abandoning hurry, do softly tread,
leave no space, show nor dread.
as we race handle our duties,
scurrying about have no doubt,
in the end, as my mother said,
kid, everything always works out
searching carefully each clue
as to where is up
for me, for you, it keeps changing
there’s been faint trace
like a bird puff gone to wind,
aloft - the shifting of the old tree.
ground level - wind licking long strokes in lawns
stuff is old, i see it around me
don’t let me kid myself
the wind is cold by night
as day old dinner left lying on the shelf
rampant speculation leads to inaccuracies
following closely pit padding heels of worry
abandoning hurry, do softly tread,
leave no space, show nor dread.
as we race handle our duties,
scurrying about have no doubt,
in the end, as my mother said,
kid, everything always works out
Thursday, April 29, 2010
the egret has landed
more a to a less play the drums tap tap
in my head riding, some.
last time i opened the window
i didn’t know it was the last time
if people dressed better
would they treat us better?
on the other hand
they treat us like cattle, so dress for it
saw a disheveled motorcycle man attired for a sleepover
had on a t-shirt with a decal picture of a motorcycle on it
give him a country name
call him Harley Woodpecker
hug the cushion
to your chest
in the event of evacuation
i’d call that an event all right
don’t mind
much of anything
words people say
or what aggravates
out the window
looked like two fat puffy bunnies
parked on the tarmac
call them big planes in their team colors
lock tray tables down in their
full upright position, why is that?
will it rattle, fall and break on takeoff?
hug the seat cushion to your chest
in the event of an evacuation
or if in need of a cuddle, not while plane is in motion,
or they’ll want to know why you’re taking their plane apart
don’t forget, do not forget this is a non smoking flight, don’t forget
woke up at eleven pm last night your time
been flying, well, riding mostly
go ahead tell me it’s a non smoking flight
nearly forgot, thought i'd quit or something
hurry driver
take me home so i can find the Internet is down
cause a ten cent piece of plastic broke when they
thought they reconnected the stuff no problem
throw out that dot of plastic
get it in the ocean
so it floats with the rest of it
and won’t ever be lonely again
in my head riding, some.
last time i opened the window
i didn’t know it was the last time
if people dressed better
would they treat us better?
on the other hand
they treat us like cattle, so dress for it
saw a disheveled motorcycle man attired for a sleepover
had on a t-shirt with a decal picture of a motorcycle on it
give him a country name
call him Harley Woodpecker
hug the cushion
to your chest
in the event of evacuation
i’d call that an event all right
don’t mind
much of anything
words people say
or what aggravates
out the window
looked like two fat puffy bunnies
parked on the tarmac
call them big planes in their team colors
lock tray tables down in their
full upright position, why is that?
will it rattle, fall and break on takeoff?
hug the seat cushion to your chest
in the event of an evacuation
or if in need of a cuddle, not while plane is in motion,
or they’ll want to know why you’re taking their plane apart
don’t forget, do not forget this is a non smoking flight, don’t forget
woke up at eleven pm last night your time
been flying, well, riding mostly
go ahead tell me it’s a non smoking flight
nearly forgot, thought i'd quit or something
hurry driver
take me home so i can find the Internet is down
cause a ten cent piece of plastic broke when they
thought they reconnected the stuff no problem
throw out that dot of plastic
get it in the ocean
so it floats with the rest of it
and won’t ever be lonely again
Monday, April 26, 2010
ordinary coffee 2
between time has begun in earnest,
sliding along a step at a time in this land
where coffee is not only a drug
it is the ritual, deeply set
saw Alberto a final time
had coffee, bid our goodbyes.
neither here nor beyond, i’m in prep time now,
thinking the way
then near home, woodworker Franco
tells me he’s moving from his shop,
saddened. his friends, already
thinking of his friends
twenty-five years in this place,
Franco has ripened and aged in this studio
of worn brick fabricated in the late middle ages.
he knows these ancient walls, having laughed and cried here
and we all have our paths,
the way for one is never
easy as it may appear to others.
expect and accept surprises
on the way keep your head up,
be alert through change, though fear it not.
remember - it is always easier to ride the horse
in the direction that it is going.
sliding along a step at a time in this land
where coffee is not only a drug
it is the ritual, deeply set
saw Alberto a final time
had coffee, bid our goodbyes.
neither here nor beyond, i’m in prep time now,
thinking the way
then near home, woodworker Franco
tells me he’s moving from his shop,
saddened. his friends, already
thinking of his friends
twenty-five years in this place,
Franco has ripened and aged in this studio
of worn brick fabricated in the late middle ages.
he knows these ancient walls, having laughed and cried here
and we all have our paths,
the way for one is never
easy as it may appear to others.
expect and accept surprises
on the way keep your head up,
be alert through change, though fear it not.
remember - it is always easier to ride the horse
in the direction that it is going.
ordinary coffee
ordinary coffee and a roll with apple
at the bar unchanged for years
dark haired daughter works Monday
she knows our routine
M. went along this regular
laundry day for Bill and i.
now Luciano will be closing his place
moving to Thailand the end of the month
chef Bill will spend his 43rd year in Roma
then is on his way
to live with his brother in Atlanta,
we’ll return in the fall, that’s the plan
yesterday it was Chinese food
with Maria, Bruna and Luciana,
a Trastevere summery Sunday
we bid our goodbyes
quickly all happens,
so sudden to depart
our friendship. our adventure
oh, melancholy heart
at the bar unchanged for years
dark haired daughter works Monday
she knows our routine
M. went along this regular
laundry day for Bill and i.
now Luciano will be closing his place
moving to Thailand the end of the month
chef Bill will spend his 43rd year in Roma
then is on his way
to live with his brother in Atlanta,
we’ll return in the fall, that’s the plan
yesterday it was Chinese food
with Maria, Bruna and Luciana,
a Trastevere summery Sunday
we bid our goodbyes
quickly all happens,
so sudden to depart
our friendship. our adventure
oh, melancholy heart
Sunday, April 25, 2010
more or lessing now
this whole thing is amazing
there’s seven billion of us
mostly the same
one head and the other parts
we put words together
that’s one way it starts
then what i come up with
is not all that unique
we’re in this together
that’s what i think
my poems are like yours
when you take ‘em apart
they’re all from the brain
run by the heart
so a salute to us is okay
from one and for all
give it your best,
have a nice day
there’s seven billion of us
mostly the same
one head and the other parts
we put words together
that’s one way it starts
then what i come up with
is not all that unique
we’re in this together
that’s what i think
my poems are like yours
when you take ‘em apart
they’re all from the brain
run by the heart
so a salute to us is okay
from one and for all
give it your best,
have a nice day
Saturday, April 24, 2010
saturday first thing
Saturday first thing
the crack of eight, remember that,
it's the hour to ransack Rome,
cause Romans sleep in the mornings
from our window above i observe a Bangladeshi
load the large wheeled wooden hand cart
for Campo dei Fiori venders Marco and Isa,
the guy needs the work, and they’re older now
we go out and down the alley way,
find Corado working alone at
Rosaria’s store, talk a bit.
he wants to see America some day
then to the laundry that still isn’t open
a half hour past the opening time written on the door.
after fifteen minutes of staring at the sign
we drag our cart to the Laundromat a few streets over
Crazy Mario is working, usually i go on Monday
with Bill the chef, when Luciano works there,
forever grumpy and dreaming aloud
of Thailand beaches, warm weather and low prices
our chores finished, we leave Roma by car to discover
it’s the day, it’s the hour, it’s what every Disneyland in
the world wants to be, charming as Sacrafano’s
medieval village center, rock village on a hill
now freshly green, deep springtime in the air
we have a coffee and walk around.
then to Alberto’s delightful home in the wild,
for lunch, half Calabrese cuisine,
half plain out of this world
Albie’s an artist, even when he cooks.
i’d tell you more but the page is nearly full,
must save room for desert.
the crack of eight, remember that,
it's the hour to ransack Rome,
cause Romans sleep in the mornings
from our window above i observe a Bangladeshi
load the large wheeled wooden hand cart
for Campo dei Fiori venders Marco and Isa,
the guy needs the work, and they’re older now
we go out and down the alley way,
find Corado working alone at
Rosaria’s store, talk a bit.
he wants to see America some day
then to the laundry that still isn’t open
a half hour past the opening time written on the door.
after fifteen minutes of staring at the sign
we drag our cart to the Laundromat a few streets over
Crazy Mario is working, usually i go on Monday
with Bill the chef, when Luciano works there,
forever grumpy and dreaming aloud
of Thailand beaches, warm weather and low prices
our chores finished, we leave Roma by car to discover
it’s the day, it’s the hour, it’s what every Disneyland in
the world wants to be, charming as Sacrafano’s
medieval village center, rock village on a hill
now freshly green, deep springtime in the air
we have a coffee and walk around.
then to Alberto’s delightful home in the wild,
for lunch, half Calabrese cuisine,
half plain out of this world
Albie’s an artist, even when he cooks.
i’d tell you more but the page is nearly full,
must save room for desert.
Friday, April 23, 2010
road again
some road cops on the cruise
with nothing to do get a kick
driving fast and laying on the siren
they passed us like a bat out of hell
stopped for lunch at a mom and pa diner
in an atomic particle of a town.
out front a parking space for two was open
‘til that guy in front of me pulls into it
goes right in the middle
takes it all, he does
not thinking of me or you,
that’s how Italbillys do
during, before and after pasta,
vegetables, warm pie and coffee, i sort
piles of notes from my pockets
x ‘em out when they’re done, i do
at home i keep one of the old cigar boxes dad used
little notes and numbers
written all over it
a boy has to learn somewhere
the Giant Cyclops had it right
tell the villagers to leave some sheep
tied up by the cave at the bottom of the hill
or there’s going to be trouble, problem solved
lunch was home cooked good
made new friends
learned the river was down,
not rushing like years before
a local truck, vegetables in the back
parked outside
after lunch we gandered,
chatted, got fruit, we did
the road home, windows up against the chill,
all the way we could smell the strawberries
nestled in the trunk of the car.
now that’s a poem, partner
with nothing to do get a kick
driving fast and laying on the siren
they passed us like a bat out of hell
stopped for lunch at a mom and pa diner
in an atomic particle of a town.
out front a parking space for two was open
‘til that guy in front of me pulls into it
goes right in the middle
takes it all, he does
not thinking of me or you,
that’s how Italbillys do
during, before and after pasta,
vegetables, warm pie and coffee, i sort
piles of notes from my pockets
x ‘em out when they’re done, i do
at home i keep one of the old cigar boxes dad used
little notes and numbers
written all over it
a boy has to learn somewhere
the Giant Cyclops had it right
tell the villagers to leave some sheep
tied up by the cave at the bottom of the hill
or there’s going to be trouble, problem solved
lunch was home cooked good
made new friends
learned the river was down,
not rushing like years before
a local truck, vegetables in the back
parked outside
after lunch we gandered,
chatted, got fruit, we did
the road home, windows up against the chill,
all the way we could smell the strawberries
nestled in the trunk of the car.
now that’s a poem, partner
Thursday, April 22, 2010
i smile satisfied
crossing traffic
with bullfighter ease
having done it before
it’s a breeze
turning left
then I squeeze
across the lane
step, step
like a dance
kind of nifty
Hey - that SOB
almost hit me
with bullfighter ease
having done it before
it’s a breeze
turning left
then I squeeze
across the lane
step, step
like a dance
kind of nifty
Hey - that SOB
almost hit me
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
baby down the well
baby down the well,
what the hell?
half a world away people talk
like it’s going on next door
next thing the playoff games
shadowed out by Dancing with the Stars,
you need some more distraction,
we’ve got robots going to Mars
what the hell?
half a world away people talk
like it’s going on next door
next thing the playoff games
shadowed out by Dancing with the Stars,
you need some more distraction,
we’ve got robots going to Mars
so many i don't know
been through so many books
don’t know what all i’ve read,
who wrote them
or what they all said
while some of it took,
seems the most of it, i dread,
is floating here somewhere,
swirling downstream in my head
don’t know what all i’ve read,
who wrote them
or what they all said
while some of it took,
seems the most of it, i dread,
is floating here somewhere,
swirling downstream in my head
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
since the colosseum
in Roma the paper trail
dreadful long, runs deep,
employment for a relative,
nothing to do with efficiency
if they’re selling chances
don’t bet against it,
the outcome is fixed in stone,
that’s how it goes
Roma has the reputation
to convolute everything,
and lives up to it
every imaginable way
dreadful long, runs deep,
employment for a relative,
nothing to do with efficiency
if they’re selling chances
don’t bet against it,
the outcome is fixed in stone,
that’s how it goes
Roma has the reputation
to convolute everything,
and lives up to it
every imaginable way
Monday, April 19, 2010
out of Roma ahead of the volcano
set a land speed record
on an intercity bus to the termini
the driver was in a hurry
to smoke or pee or call mama on his break
at the train station
oh the humanity
European victims of the volcano cloud
hurrying in, to find a way out
training south we stopped at Formia
a knowledgeable passenger said we’d be stopped a few minutes
i was three seconds from stepping off for a walk outside
as the door snapped closed and the train took off
a guy who saw it all
said it was close to disaster for me
and nearly smiled
when he said it
through Naples we passed
a dozen twenty story
apartment buildings with balconies
on all sides, all the way down
in Sapri stayed at a downtown hotel
a small park away from the sea
the racket was traffic and breaking waves of humanity
it was a fine afternoon
that evening at a local bar
i had a beer, M. had a glass of wine
served by the youngest bartender in Europe
my shoes are older than him
crashing waves
whish of the trees
laughing people
between us and the sea
so the volcano puffs
airports close
we had enough
soon we’re heading home
on an intercity bus to the termini
the driver was in a hurry
to smoke or pee or call mama on his break
at the train station
oh the humanity
European victims of the volcano cloud
hurrying in, to find a way out
training south we stopped at Formia
a knowledgeable passenger said we’d be stopped a few minutes
i was three seconds from stepping off for a walk outside
as the door snapped closed and the train took off
a guy who saw it all
said it was close to disaster for me
and nearly smiled
when he said it
through Naples we passed
a dozen twenty story
apartment buildings with balconies
on all sides, all the way down
in Sapri stayed at a downtown hotel
a small park away from the sea
the racket was traffic and breaking waves of humanity
it was a fine afternoon
that evening at a local bar
i had a beer, M. had a glass of wine
served by the youngest bartender in Europe
my shoes are older than him
crashing waves
whish of the trees
laughing people
between us and the sea
so the volcano puffs
airports close
we had enough
soon we’re heading home
fat mouse sleeping
fat mouse sleeping
is how we travel usually,
but not this bus, we let the good one go,
and took one with the square wheels
and the driver who that very morning
dropped off his mother,
three sisters and fiancee
at the nut house
his grin as he drove reminded me of the odd man,
a regular at a lunch counter in San Francisco,
with the black rubber toupee that clung to his head
like a sleeping alligator, i shuddered
and looked over to M. to see how she rode,
one hand on the saddle horn like a broncobuster
grinning without hanging on
and knew she was fearless
fat mouse sleeping
is where i wanna be
but not on this bus
the one with square wheels
is how we travel usually,
but not this bus, we let the good one go,
and took one with the square wheels
and the driver who that very morning
dropped off his mother,
three sisters and fiancee
at the nut house
his grin as he drove reminded me of the odd man,
a regular at a lunch counter in San Francisco,
with the black rubber toupee that clung to his head
like a sleeping alligator, i shuddered
and looked over to M. to see how she rode,
one hand on the saddle horn like a broncobuster
grinning without hanging on
and knew she was fearless
fat mouse sleeping
is where i wanna be
but not on this bus
the one with square wheels
Friday, April 16, 2010
the world's most expensive carpet
6.2 million dollars, the world’s most expensive carpet
sold, how about that and what do you know,
my carpet is for sale right now
for 6.3 million, the one by the door
put that in the Guinness record book
as the highest price asked for a carpet
call the queen or someone
Paris Hilton or Sharon Stone maybe
i’ll put a sign on the back of my pickup truck
and drive down to the Pied Piper
the local ice cream place and celebrate
i’ll buy – they’ll probably only get small cones
wait – let me think about this,
i won’t need a shot of botox will i?
couldn’t they use an old picture of me
or one of Pierce Brosnan and say it’s me?
maybe i’d better just drink
my morning coffee and think about it,
yeah, i do want to be reasonable,
yeah, that’s me, good old Mr. Reasonable
sold, how about that and what do you know,
my carpet is for sale right now
for 6.3 million, the one by the door
put that in the Guinness record book
as the highest price asked for a carpet
call the queen or someone
Paris Hilton or Sharon Stone maybe
i’ll put a sign on the back of my pickup truck
and drive down to the Pied Piper
the local ice cream place and celebrate
i’ll buy – they’ll probably only get small cones
wait – let me think about this,
i won’t need a shot of botox will i?
couldn’t they use an old picture of me
or one of Pierce Brosnan and say it’s me?
maybe i’d better just drink
my morning coffee and think about it,
yeah, i do want to be reasonable,
yeah, that’s me, good old Mr. Reasonable
Thursday, April 15, 2010
so life is but a dream
so life is but a dream,
here’s one to sleep on,
we rocket back in time, she and i
take our journey in a flash,
contract it into a night
to see some high points
spend two days at that place
high above the beach in Zijuatenejo
have a nice dinner under stars
two days in the Piute mountains
our cabin , old friends dropping by
the wood stove, where it all began
two days on the boat in Sausalito
the cat’s there lying in the sun
what a decade that was
two days with my folks in Ohio
two with yours in Arizona
make those family festive occasions,
two in Hawaii on bicycles and camping
two in Italy on trains, busing, walking,
wine, pasta and pizza of course,
add two in Sonoma on the crazy oats ranch,
a couple of days here, a couple there,
a whirlwind happy couple dream
we rode the long ride
rose and fell with the tide
and iknow, sweetheart, we’d do it again
like gamblers with fortune smiling
we had the cards and the stars in our favor
someone’s watching over us
here’s one to sleep on,
we rocket back in time, she and i
take our journey in a flash,
contract it into a night
to see some high points
spend two days at that place
high above the beach in Zijuatenejo
have a nice dinner under stars
two days in the Piute mountains
our cabin , old friends dropping by
the wood stove, where it all began
two days on the boat in Sausalito
the cat’s there lying in the sun
what a decade that was
two days with my folks in Ohio
two with yours in Arizona
make those family festive occasions,
two in Hawaii on bicycles and camping
two in Italy on trains, busing, walking,
wine, pasta and pizza of course,
add two in Sonoma on the crazy oats ranch,
a couple of days here, a couple there,
a whirlwind happy couple dream
we rode the long ride
rose and fell with the tide
and iknow, sweetheart, we’d do it again
like gamblers with fortune smiling
we had the cards and the stars in our favor
someone’s watching over us
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
packed for business
waiting by the stop, standing there
saw one aged, elbow high on M.
looked shorter, had tall hair,
the bus arrived, all boarded
thirty minutes later i tried to call M.
to let her know i was still on the bus
and that i was thinking of her,
sadly, i found her phone was off
she was up there somewhere
in the front of the same bus as me,
stuck and folded in the pile of humanity,
excommunicato
out the widow i saw at a glance a guy walking
head down thinking hard hands in the pocket of his pants,
nearly walked in front of the bus
where the hell was his wife?!
SRO, never seats enough
designed in Italy for beauty,
never function, you want to ride,
you need a ticket and gumption
and we made the run
had some fun
got stuff done
it’s never easy
doing what we can
as woman and man,
plus a crowd of others,
world sisters and brothers
and to you i can say
whether work or play, until it’s done
let it gleam and shine in every way
cause this is your day in the sun
saw one aged, elbow high on M.
looked shorter, had tall hair,
the bus arrived, all boarded
thirty minutes later i tried to call M.
to let her know i was still on the bus
and that i was thinking of her,
sadly, i found her phone was off
she was up there somewhere
in the front of the same bus as me,
stuck and folded in the pile of humanity,
excommunicato
out the widow i saw at a glance a guy walking
head down thinking hard hands in the pocket of his pants,
nearly walked in front of the bus
where the hell was his wife?!
SRO, never seats enough
designed in Italy for beauty,
never function, you want to ride,
you need a ticket and gumption
and we made the run
had some fun
got stuff done
it’s never easy
doing what we can
as woman and man,
plus a crowd of others,
world sisters and brothers
and to you i can say
whether work or play, until it’s done
let it gleam and shine in every way
cause this is your day in the sun
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
tram this time
riding an underground mortuary
with the undead, where the noise of screeching
is paralyzing, the cost of grease must have
rocketed on the wings of the price of oil
eight stops and one-half migraine later
above ground, near empty ears
vibrate from a train passing
in the other direction
at last we had finally made it
to Hell’s End
to wait for a bus, it was sunny
my jacket now too heavy
thirty minutes later the bus arrived
when all boarded
the driver left
for a 15 minute break
foreigners aboard
heading for the office of immigration
to redo papers and fingerprints in case they changed
all for the pleasure of remaining in Italy
with the bus seemingly packed
at the first stop
we topped off, packed again
just to be sure it was filled to capacity
now my jacket acted like a heat blanket
felt a draft of cool air,
must have been a mistake
or the breath of an evil spirit
at the new office
200 people in a space for fifty
18 windows do business,
three were open
we had twenty minutes
window close at 1130, then reopen after lunch at 330
but we made it in time to hear
we should come back in the fall
seems we were here just a century ago
when we got back in the subway
zipping the way they say takes time
off a test-tube rat’s life
then near the termini
the happy people, 2
sat down for Indian Fast Food,
ate lunch and swallowed defeat
with the undead, where the noise of screeching
is paralyzing, the cost of grease must have
rocketed on the wings of the price of oil
eight stops and one-half migraine later
above ground, near empty ears
vibrate from a train passing
in the other direction
at last we had finally made it
to Hell’s End
to wait for a bus, it was sunny
my jacket now too heavy
thirty minutes later the bus arrived
when all boarded
the driver left
for a 15 minute break
foreigners aboard
heading for the office of immigration
to redo papers and fingerprints in case they changed
all for the pleasure of remaining in Italy
with the bus seemingly packed
at the first stop
we topped off, packed again
just to be sure it was filled to capacity
now my jacket acted like a heat blanket
felt a draft of cool air,
must have been a mistake
or the breath of an evil spirit
at the new office
200 people in a space for fifty
18 windows do business,
three were open
we had twenty minutes
window close at 1130, then reopen after lunch at 330
but we made it in time to hear
we should come back in the fall
seems we were here just a century ago
when we got back in the subway
zipping the way they say takes time
off a test-tube rat’s life
then near the termini
the happy people, 2
sat down for Indian Fast Food,
ate lunch and swallowed defeat
Monday, April 12, 2010
the elevator
across the street
workers were taking down letters
of the store name - Rinascimento
large metal script going one at a time
right into the trash
the name of the store could be read
on the unpainted wall
where for years the letters had hung
only O remained,
i was thinking
how i could use it
before it went down the drain into history forever
on my way into a nearby building,
a guy by the door was playing a violin so badly
he should offer people coins from his cup
for the aggravation he caused all too eagerly
i barely squeezed into the elevator
as the door closed it took off shaking chains,
one of those old rattling jobs
that sounded like Jacob Marley’s ghost
the little barred box we were in
was a packed rocket ascending,
as i noticed over the elevator door
900 kg 12 persons, a warning
i saw it too late for us,
we were locked down in a cage of the type
used to load wild animals
aboard a ship in Borneo in ancient times
there were too many in here,
couldn’t count them all,
that large one counts for two
had to start over three times
carry the four, 900 kilos divided into 12 people
is how much? nine into 12,
two zeros left
I’ll use them later,
reminded me of the letter O
i left behind,
must do the math quickly
or ring the bell and run
it’s about an eight floor building
high enough if it goes down fast,
i suppose there is a basement,
count that as another floor to drop
i broke out in a sweat
as the box quit shaking
and hung there
having arrived at some floor
didn’t matter where,
the door opened everyone bailed,
headed for the stair
before we all got impaled
workers were taking down letters
of the store name - Rinascimento
large metal script going one at a time
right into the trash
the name of the store could be read
on the unpainted wall
where for years the letters had hung
only O remained,
i was thinking
how i could use it
before it went down the drain into history forever
on my way into a nearby building,
a guy by the door was playing a violin so badly
he should offer people coins from his cup
for the aggravation he caused all too eagerly
i barely squeezed into the elevator
as the door closed it took off shaking chains,
one of those old rattling jobs
that sounded like Jacob Marley’s ghost
the little barred box we were in
was a packed rocket ascending,
as i noticed over the elevator door
900 kg 12 persons, a warning
i saw it too late for us,
we were locked down in a cage of the type
used to load wild animals
aboard a ship in Borneo in ancient times
there were too many in here,
couldn’t count them all,
that large one counts for two
had to start over three times
carry the four, 900 kilos divided into 12 people
is how much? nine into 12,
two zeros left
I’ll use them later,
reminded me of the letter O
i left behind,
must do the math quickly
or ring the bell and run
it’s about an eight floor building
high enough if it goes down fast,
i suppose there is a basement,
count that as another floor to drop
i broke out in a sweat
as the box quit shaking
and hung there
having arrived at some floor
didn’t matter where,
the door opened everyone bailed,
headed for the stair
before we all got impaled
Sunday, April 11, 2010
your invitation
to walk in the woods
birds over head, rolling clouds in the blue
by roads end, long grass and sticks,
kick around shall we, with family and friends
some sunny afternoon time together,
stretch into evening purple shadows
bring food and drink to share
we’ll make a warm fire
take along your musical instrument
for sweet sounds, we’ll sing along
remember a soft blanket to sit on
goodwill will ring in our voices
when you like, old friend
whenever we can
let’s make it happen,
consider this a personal invitation
birds over head, rolling clouds in the blue
by roads end, long grass and sticks,
kick around shall we, with family and friends
some sunny afternoon time together,
stretch into evening purple shadows
bring food and drink to share
we’ll make a warm fire
take along your musical instrument
for sweet sounds, we’ll sing along
remember a soft blanket to sit on
goodwill will ring in our voices
when you like, old friend
whenever we can
let’s make it happen,
consider this a personal invitation
Saturday, April 10, 2010
review
each day i note in quick review
stories true or fabricated
nothing untoward in what i do
brief impressions are here related
passing trains inside our head
haul events that we recall
piled higher than our daily bread
no way can we digest it all
stories true or fabricated
nothing untoward in what i do
brief impressions are here related
passing trains inside our head
haul events that we recall
piled higher than our daily bread
no way can we digest it all
Friday, April 09, 2010
lived in a ghost town
lived two years in a ghost town,
was a small graveyard
and a few cabins
there on the mountain
four or five folks lived within a few miles
a few more came on weekends
the judge married us there
amid a gathering of family and friends
we lived an hour from the nearest town,
our post office box,
traffic, a store or two
and people in general
electricity, none to speak of,
running water was a stream
and our well we pumped by hand
on a log tripod with wooden spool and rope
we had a battery powered radio
the scary programs on CBS mystery theater
was our nine p.m. entertainment
with a fire in the pot belly stove
and wind in the trees,
on moonless nights
after a scary show i’d accompany her
to the outhouse
once a park bear
that got too used to handouts
was dumped off in our part
and showed up on our porch
he got his nose
in some white lime powder
then stood on our porch on his hind legs
and left his powdery white nose print on our screen door
lucky for me he went away when i yelled at him
and he didn’t step through the screen into the kitchen
or it would have been suddenly
very crowded in there
stories and good times
we had a lot of them
our time in the woods
makes me smile thinking
was a small graveyard
and a few cabins
there on the mountain
four or five folks lived within a few miles
a few more came on weekends
the judge married us there
amid a gathering of family and friends
we lived an hour from the nearest town,
our post office box,
traffic, a store or two
and people in general
electricity, none to speak of,
running water was a stream
and our well we pumped by hand
on a log tripod with wooden spool and rope
we had a battery powered radio
the scary programs on CBS mystery theater
was our nine p.m. entertainment
with a fire in the pot belly stove
and wind in the trees,
on moonless nights
after a scary show i’d accompany her
to the outhouse
once a park bear
that got too used to handouts
was dumped off in our part
and showed up on our porch
he got his nose
in some white lime powder
then stood on our porch on his hind legs
and left his powdery white nose print on our screen door
lucky for me he went away when i yelled at him
and he didn’t step through the screen into the kitchen
or it would have been suddenly
very crowded in there
stories and good times
we had a lot of them
our time in the woods
makes me smile thinking
Thursday, April 08, 2010
The Internet Alerts Us
my morning coffee ritual
in our dark somber apartment in Rome
was speed jolt interrupted as
M. read aloud the full story
direct from the Internet
of the alarm caused by a guy
who smoked in the first class restroom
aboard a plane flying to Denver
when asked by security what he was doing
because they had smelled smoke in the bathroom,
he jokingly said he was lighting his shoes on fire.
they slammed him in his seat and cuffed him
causing two scrambled fierce military jets to accompany
the airliner while landing or, if need be, shoot it down.
bringing to mind actor and later President Ronald Reagan
who once said, “Lucky Strike means fine tobacco.”
as i quietly sipped my coffee in the far away zone
and thanked my lucky stars the Internet keeps us
informed and alert to the goings on
in restrooms high over Denver and other places
then went back
to finish watching
a six year old prodigy
play the piano in China
in our dark somber apartment in Rome
was speed jolt interrupted as
M. read aloud the full story
direct from the Internet
of the alarm caused by a guy
who smoked in the first class restroom
aboard a plane flying to Denver
when asked by security what he was doing
because they had smelled smoke in the bathroom,
he jokingly said he was lighting his shoes on fire.
they slammed him in his seat and cuffed him
causing two scrambled fierce military jets to accompany
the airliner while landing or, if need be, shoot it down.
bringing to mind actor and later President Ronald Reagan
who once said, “Lucky Strike means fine tobacco.”
as i quietly sipped my coffee in the far away zone
and thanked my lucky stars the Internet keeps us
informed and alert to the goings on
in restrooms high over Denver and other places
then went back
to finish watching
a six year old prodigy
play the piano in China
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
been on the road
been on the road and made it
back to Rome from away
quite a week it was.
label us vacationed to the hilt.
she drove the lion share, has the stuff
to persist, fight traffic and hold the gate.
now back, unpacked, thank goodness,
tomorrow we recuperate
back to Rome from away
quite a week it was.
label us vacationed to the hilt.
she drove the lion share, has the stuff
to persist, fight traffic and hold the gate.
now back, unpacked, thank goodness,
tomorrow we recuperate
can't see it
i can’t see it as a whole
not as well as you.
yes, i write this everyday,
from the middle where it’s spinning fast
i don’t see it as others do,
for it pops in pieces in front of you
in carefree digestible bits.
you have an idea how it goes
better to look from afar,
analyze the pieces.
and then tell me what happened
when it’s over
not as well as you.
yes, i write this everyday,
from the middle where it’s spinning fast
i don’t see it as others do,
for it pops in pieces in front of you
in carefree digestible bits.
you have an idea how it goes
better to look from afar,
analyze the pieces.
and then tell me what happened
when it’s over
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
another life
in another life,
i’m pretty sure
i wasn’t king or queen
or dog or cat
i think i was a dandelion,
and we’d just grow
with nothing to know,
tens of thousands of us
turning our heads
to honor the light of the sun
we sang together
a lot of songs
never had words to learn
we’d just turn
to the sun and knew the music,
we were like one
i’m pretty sure
i wasn’t king or queen
or dog or cat
i think i was a dandelion,
and we’d just grow
with nothing to know,
tens of thousands of us
turning our heads
to honor the light of the sun
we sang together
a lot of songs
never had words to learn
we’d just turn
to the sun and knew the music,
we were like one
Monday, April 05, 2010
water spray
the water spray
sky is gray
this early April day
and we rise for the occasion
content being here,
having been bestowed this reward
sky is gray
this early April day
and we rise for the occasion
content being here,
having been bestowed this reward
Saturday, April 03, 2010
approximations
Italian national TV news at seven
is an approximation of the starting time,
could be three or four minutes later,
it all depends,
so don't set your clock by it
lines down the middle of streets in Roma
also are approximations,
indications for vehicles
that give a general idea where to drive,
you better bet your life on it
is an approximation of the starting time,
could be three or four minutes later,
it all depends,
so don't set your clock by it
lines down the middle of streets in Roma
also are approximations,
indications for vehicles
that give a general idea where to drive,
you better bet your life on it
Friday, April 02, 2010
of the sea
the music of continuous waves
beat cleanses my soul
repeatedly bringing dreams,
stir turning clear waters
until fragile yellow
washes dawn silver sea,
sky grows light blue
and new gold day begins
somewhere, down Italy
to here by car or train
have returned to dream, digest and breathe
this thing again
from the terrace
over sounding waters
star light calls, i tell them
let’s go, take me
until that time comes
i’ll dream and wait,
these waves in my heart
have a place for me
somewhere out of time
a poets corner of many words
beyond the angle of night
a deep universe in order
i live near the sea
no matter where home
appears to be
or where rest my bones
in high wind
the long blue and fish
is where i begin,
my deepest wish
by the snap of sail,
pull of the tide
when you tell the tale
know there i hide
for i am of the sea
through not by address
a longing inside called water
calls to me more often than less
beat cleanses my soul
repeatedly bringing dreams,
stir turning clear waters
until fragile yellow
washes dawn silver sea,
sky grows light blue
and new gold day begins
somewhere, down Italy
to here by car or train
have returned to dream, digest and breathe
this thing again
from the terrace
over sounding waters
star light calls, i tell them
let’s go, take me
until that time comes
i’ll dream and wait,
these waves in my heart
have a place for me
somewhere out of time
a poets corner of many words
beyond the angle of night
a deep universe in order
i live near the sea
no matter where home
appears to be
or where rest my bones
in high wind
the long blue and fish
is where i begin,
my deepest wish
by the snap of sail,
pull of the tide
when you tell the tale
know there i hide
for i am of the sea
through not by address
a longing inside called water
calls to me more often than less
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Antonio Salvatore
on the little electric bus
i sat next to a fellow with a case
and a bandaged right hand
we talked, immediately got along well
a very interesting guy
with a home in the Albino hills outside of Rome
a boat he loves in Sardegna
i told him we lived ten years on a boat
in Sausalito, on San Francisco bay
he’s doing a concert in San Fran April 24
he’s Antonio Salvatore a world class violinist
always first violinist for Ennio Morricone,
travels the world, many awards to his credit
we talked until my stop ended our chat
i’m sorry i didn’t have a card to give him,
an immediate acquaintance lost in fleeting encounter,
best wishes, Antonio
i sat next to a fellow with a case
and a bandaged right hand
we talked, immediately got along well
a very interesting guy
with a home in the Albino hills outside of Rome
a boat he loves in Sardegna
i told him we lived ten years on a boat
in Sausalito, on San Francisco bay
he’s doing a concert in San Fran April 24
he’s Antonio Salvatore a world class violinist
always first violinist for Ennio Morricone,
travels the world, many awards to his credit
we talked until my stop ended our chat
i’m sorry i didn’t have a card to give him,
an immediate acquaintance lost in fleeting encounter,
best wishes, Antonio
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
pajamas
my wife bought me pajamas
some wives do that you know
these i’ve had for a decade
and don’t like them, never did
they look like Polish clown pants
ok, so i’m of Polish blood
and i do clown around a bit
so . . .
. . . . hey, wait a minute
. . . . . cancel cancel
. . . they’re really not that bad
some wives do that you know
these i’ve had for a decade
and don’t like them, never did
they look like Polish clown pants
ok, so i’m of Polish blood
and i do clown around a bit
so . . .
. . . . hey, wait a minute
. . . . . cancel cancel
. . . they’re really not that bad
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
bad rainbow
my umbrella worked
wore it low like a hat
had a stick on it to hold on to,
was psychedelic in nature
the color was majorly blue, dark
ominous, but nice handle,
you had to own one like it
to understand
alone at the wooden table
a glass away from foul weather
i peer out disheartened,
where did my lousy umbrella go?
wore it low like a hat
had a stick on it to hold on to,
was psychedelic in nature
the color was majorly blue, dark
ominous, but nice handle,
you had to own one like it
to understand
alone at the wooden table
a glass away from foul weather
i peer out disheartened,
where did my lousy umbrella go?
Monday, March 29, 2010
self satisfied
self satisfied are you?
i need your attention,
this is about you
when you feel you know,
when you have finally learned
that you’re not as smart
as you think you are
that very point is equivalent
to dawn in you,
the breaking open of daylight’s first rays,
the new beginning
don’t think about the afternoon
or days end as yet,
you still have a long way to go
until lunch time
i need your attention,
this is about you
when you feel you know,
when you have finally learned
that you’re not as smart
as you think you are
that very point is equivalent
to dawn in you,
the breaking open of daylight’s first rays,
the new beginning
don’t think about the afternoon
or days end as yet,
you still have a long way to go
until lunch time
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Giancarlino Benedetti Corcos
hats off to Giancarlino
he did the floor tiles for a bar on the corner
this is a step for his ever changing face
in the art bowl
as he moves on in art
making a mess
turning in the tide
doing his part
while nibbling on the money bone
he’s having fun
and i respect him for that,
that and being a good person is what it’s all about
he did the floor tiles for a bar on the corner
this is a step for his ever changing face
in the art bowl
as he moves on in art
making a mess
turning in the tide
doing his part
while nibbling on the money bone
he’s having fun
and i respect him for that,
that and being a good person is what it’s all about
Saturday, March 27, 2010
another space between
another space between
on a bus way out again,
way up denial, 27 march,
one month into chronic birthday digestion
make a note
sound waves, light waves, ocean waves
slow waves, fast waves, wet waves
more stuff you don’t have to Google
on the bus with folks from Nigeria
the six year old kid was quiet and observant
obviously not a TV junky, make a note -
dots of sun light from a board with holes - do it
not thinking of you, like the two end to end
parking spaces open and a one car pulls in the middle
and essentially takes two
he was not thinking of you either
deep up denial again, but it’s all true
i could tell we were far out of the city
when we saw a guy leading two camels,
at least they were on the sidewalk
sometime notes i make on the bus
can’t be deciphered because of the jiggle
but i know what i saw
about the camels i mean, i do so verify
note: when Italians count on their fingers
unlike America where one is the index finger
here, one is the thumb
just thought i’d let you know
m. just read a news story online
about a man arrested for trying to revive
a road kill possum
with mouth to mouth resuscitation
then TomC writes to say
he couldn’t digest his cornflakes or something
cause i skipped a day
pshaw! maybe when i was ten
i could have skipped all day.
what i did was lose a day just like
Ray Miland in Lost Weekend, Billy Wilder, 1945,
in which he played an alcoholic
and i just saved you more Googling
maybe Google lost some money then
and/or will make it up
somewhere else
note - if i wrote this in paragraph form
and you printed it, it’d waste money
on ink for big letters and periods
or space there of
on a bus way out again,
way up denial, 27 march,
one month into chronic birthday digestion
make a note
sound waves, light waves, ocean waves
slow waves, fast waves, wet waves
more stuff you don’t have to Google
on the bus with folks from Nigeria
the six year old kid was quiet and observant
obviously not a TV junky, make a note -
dots of sun light from a board with holes - do it
not thinking of you, like the two end to end
parking spaces open and a one car pulls in the middle
and essentially takes two
he was not thinking of you either
deep up denial again, but it’s all true
i could tell we were far out of the city
when we saw a guy leading two camels,
at least they were on the sidewalk
sometime notes i make on the bus
can’t be deciphered because of the jiggle
but i know what i saw
about the camels i mean, i do so verify
note: when Italians count on their fingers
unlike America where one is the index finger
here, one is the thumb
just thought i’d let you know
m. just read a news story online
about a man arrested for trying to revive
a road kill possum
with mouth to mouth resuscitation
then TomC writes to say
he couldn’t digest his cornflakes or something
cause i skipped a day
pshaw! maybe when i was ten
i could have skipped all day.
what i did was lose a day just like
Ray Miland in Lost Weekend, Billy Wilder, 1945,
in which he played an alcoholic
and i just saved you more Googling
maybe Google lost some money then
and/or will make it up
somewhere else
note - if i wrote this in paragraph form
and you printed it, it’d waste money
on ink for big letters and periods
or space there of
Thursday, March 25, 2010
city advantage
we saw one of three films featured
by the director Kurosawa
from 1949, in black and white,
free admission for the early show
a two minute walk from home
our neighborhood theater, time was right,
students and old people were there
subtitles in Italian, you can’t have everything
the theater was warm, i held my coat,
the people in the film were hot
sweating, every scene
we could see them beaded, dripping,
mopping their faces to remind us
after two hours it began to rain
just in the film,
still the heat continued for them and us,
but now muggy with rain
for 17 hours that seemed like 2
if you still believe in clocks
then it ended, and they let us leave
just like that
we had endured and
liked it a lot,
that’s what years in Italia can do to you,
so watch yourself
by the director Kurosawa
from 1949, in black and white,
free admission for the early show
a two minute walk from home
our neighborhood theater, time was right,
students and old people were there
subtitles in Italian, you can’t have everything
the theater was warm, i held my coat,
the people in the film were hot
sweating, every scene
we could see them beaded, dripping,
mopping their faces to remind us
after two hours it began to rain
just in the film,
still the heat continued for them and us,
but now muggy with rain
for 17 hours that seemed like 2
if you still believe in clocks
then it ended, and they let us leave
just like that
we had endured and
liked it a lot,
that’s what years in Italia can do to you,
so watch yourself
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
massive paralyzing total transit strike
another
massive paralyzing total transit strike
averted,
canceled at the last moment.
as they run, so we shall ride
into the dark heart of urban chaos
didn’t want to get halfway into
the jaws of hell,
some lonely half-deserted road
left to hike out,
have done that already.
what’s this?
a woman trying to be sixteen
and fifty pounds lighter
boards the bus
in brilliant shiny ultra high spike heels
with dagger toe points like a swordfish
waddling from pole to pole
a performing penguin
with red claws,
dainty as can be
as making notes
i ride deep up denial
longing for looking
on something for always,
or pizza for eating,
just a bite
save me
i can’t help it
or me or you
so don’t ask
i’ll say i never heard of it
just the truth
nothing butt,
take me up denial,
cruise by,
say,is that the Sphinx on your head
or just a stylish new hat?
getting off the bus
i look down to see
a flash of white in front of me
my zipper is half way down
and my shirt is sticking through
about half a foot's worth
like a large white rabbit's ear
as they run, so we shall ride
into the dark heart of urban chaos
massive paralyzing total transit strike
averted,
canceled at the last moment.
as they run, so we shall ride
into the dark heart of urban chaos
didn’t want to get halfway into
the jaws of hell,
some lonely half-deserted road
left to hike out,
have done that already.
what’s this?
a woman trying to be sixteen
and fifty pounds lighter
boards the bus
in brilliant shiny ultra high spike heels
with dagger toe points like a swordfish
waddling from pole to pole
a performing penguin
with red claws,
dainty as can be
as making notes
i ride deep up denial
longing for looking
on something for always,
or pizza for eating,
just a bite
save me
i can’t help it
or me or you
so don’t ask
i’ll say i never heard of it
just the truth
nothing butt,
take me up denial,
cruise by,
say,is that the Sphinx on your head
or just a stylish new hat?
getting off the bus
i look down to see
a flash of white in front of me
my zipper is half way down
and my shirt is sticking through
about half a foot's worth
like a large white rabbit's ear
as they run, so we shall ride
into the dark heart of urban chaos
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
graffiti
on a bus ride
that took us
to the other side
of the city
by the University of Rome
a large sign roughly spray painted on a wall
read: spegni i muti, scendi i bance
extinguish the fines, light the banks
that took us
to the other side
of the city
by the University of Rome
a large sign roughly spray painted on a wall
read: spegni i muti, scendi i bance
extinguish the fines, light the banks
Monday, March 22, 2010
8 in my pocket
i carried an 8 in my pocket
cause I heard it would
bring me money,
the next day got 500 euro
cash in my hand
came to me unexpectedly,
i immediately counted it
as coincidence
when the purpose of
carrying an 8 in my pocket
was to bring in money.
what do you think?
should i continue
to carry the number 8
written on a piece of paper
in my pocket?
tell you what,
i have a friend that needs it
i’ll give him an eight
to carry in his pocket
cause I heard it would
bring me money,
the next day got 500 euro
cash in my hand
came to me unexpectedly,
i immediately counted it
as coincidence
when the purpose of
carrying an 8 in my pocket
was to bring in money.
what do you think?
should i continue
to carry the number 8
written on a piece of paper
in my pocket?
tell you what,
i have a friend that needs it
i’ll give him an eight
to carry in his pocket
Sunday, March 21, 2010
marathon
a storm of choppers
over gatherers at the coliseum
and Piazza Venezia,
the heart of Rome
9:05, a five minute delay for television transmission
then it begins,
the front line twenty
then the ten thousand unfold
balloon carriers, applause, waves,
whistles, cameras, banners,
cheers for the courageous ,
the marathon runners of Rome 2010
over gatherers at the coliseum
and Piazza Venezia,
the heart of Rome
9:05, a five minute delay for television transmission
then it begins,
the front line twenty
then the ten thousand unfold
balloon carriers, applause, waves,
whistles, cameras, banners,
cheers for the courageous ,
the marathon runners of Rome 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
on and off again
at each bus stop
the middle door is for exit only
on-getting people have no sense
there are off-going people
although they have done this exchange
a thousand times or more,
it is all new, unveiled to them
as if they’ve never been at the door before
this somehow lead me to think in times like these
when things are tight
for a simple thing like a cup of coffee
some places raise prices
maybe it’s time to cut some slack
readjust and take it easy,
now we ought to step back,
these are new times
consider how we can
get back on track,
new times need new tactics,
for now the old times aren’t coming back
the middle door is for exit only
on-getting people have no sense
there are off-going people
although they have done this exchange
a thousand times or more,
it is all new, unveiled to them
as if they’ve never been at the door before
this somehow lead me to think in times like these
when things are tight
for a simple thing like a cup of coffee
some places raise prices
maybe it’s time to cut some slack
readjust and take it easy,
now we ought to step back,
these are new times
consider how we can
get back on track,
new times need new tactics,
for now the old times aren’t coming back
Friday, March 19, 2010
get ready for summer
get ready for summer
when wind blow
stirs crickets,
no one has to train them
like training the foolish
to do something foolish
isn't necessary,
no lessons to be learned
and summer all -
rushes toward us
tumbling, unfolding in leaves,
happens naturally,
the moon shines bright,
nearly white light,
behind racing clouds
over long fields, fences
lakes and lanes,
cities, rooftops
and trees in green
for miles
and kids and dirt
you need them
have to have them
and ice cream trucks
then nights bring
lonesome train whistles
fish jump
practically hanging in the air
thistles rattle
insects snicker
it’s the wind blow itself
that stirs crickets
no doubt about it.
mark that down
lest you forget,
now you know, how it go,
and it do go on
in dew
for you,
and for me, and forever
when wind blow
stirs crickets,
no one has to train them
like training the foolish
to do something foolish
isn't necessary,
no lessons to be learned
and summer all -
rushes toward us
tumbling, unfolding in leaves,
happens naturally,
the moon shines bright,
nearly white light,
behind racing clouds
over long fields, fences
lakes and lanes,
cities, rooftops
and trees in green
for miles
and kids and dirt
you need them
have to have them
and ice cream trucks
then nights bring
lonesome train whistles
fish jump
practically hanging in the air
thistles rattle
insects snicker
it’s the wind blow itself
that stirs crickets
no doubt about it.
mark that down
lest you forget,
now you know, how it go,
and it do go on
in dew
for you,
and for me, and forever
Labels:
poems of nature
Thursday, March 18, 2010
the string is out
my grandmother
was Polish and spoke English so-so
she used to have the radio on
or grandpa did, as she ironed
she told my mom that she felt bad
for the baseball player called “string”
because she always heard the announcer
say “the string is out”, “the string is out”
this is what announcers said
during the game when it was
a 3 ball, 2 strike full count on a batter,
one pitch remaining for him
my cousins son is in his fifties
his grandfather was my dad’s brother
i knew his grandfather and his great grandfather
also that little old woman who was his
great. great grandmother, oh my . . .
time passes like a soaring bird,
sailing overhead deep,
like a long fly ball heading over the wall
somewhere it’s the bottom of the ninth,
the big game nearing completion,
tap the bat against your shoes,
knock the mud off your cleats
tuck the bill of your hat down to cover the sun,
two out, bases loaded, the full count is on,
one pitch remaining,
the string is out
when it comes down the pipe
go for it,
knock that puppy
over the wall
was Polish and spoke English so-so
she used to have the radio on
or grandpa did, as she ironed
she told my mom that she felt bad
for the baseball player called “string”
because she always heard the announcer
say “the string is out”, “the string is out”
this is what announcers said
during the game when it was
a 3 ball, 2 strike full count on a batter,
one pitch remaining for him
my cousins son is in his fifties
his grandfather was my dad’s brother
i knew his grandfather and his great grandfather
also that little old woman who was his
great. great grandmother, oh my . . .
time passes like a soaring bird,
sailing overhead deep,
like a long fly ball heading over the wall
somewhere it’s the bottom of the ninth,
the big game nearing completion,
tap the bat against your shoes,
knock the mud off your cleats
tuck the bill of your hat down to cover the sun,
two out, bases loaded, the full count is on,
one pitch remaining,
the string is out
when it comes down the pipe
go for it,
knock that puppy
over the wall
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
i am x
i am an x-patriot
living in Roma
in need another letter for this term
not so hopeless, infinite, outcast
something positive,
uplifting, outgoing, optimistic
was thinking this thought
on the way to an appointment
when i realized i had gotten into
the slowest taxi in the free world,
new world, old world,
another planet, any planet
in agonizing minutes Pokey the Driver
had torpedoed my good attitude,
a direct hit into my inner workings
had whipped my mental machinery to jelly
i quivered, i sank, went down
nose first like a rocket pointed to hell.
cross me out, x me out, go ahead x-me good.
i was and am no more, move over, i'll drive
The driver was a nice old man. he just couldn’t push the gas pedal.
Even after I left the cab, usually they’re gone before I can turn my head, he sat there a while before he pulled out into traffic. I was wondering if I was going to have to call a cab for him.
living in Roma
in need another letter for this term
not so hopeless, infinite, outcast
something positive,
uplifting, outgoing, optimistic
was thinking this thought
on the way to an appointment
when i realized i had gotten into
the slowest taxi in the free world,
new world, old world,
another planet, any planet
in agonizing minutes Pokey the Driver
had torpedoed my good attitude,
a direct hit into my inner workings
had whipped my mental machinery to jelly
i quivered, i sank, went down
nose first like a rocket pointed to hell.
cross me out, x me out, go ahead x-me good.
i was and am no more, move over, i'll drive
The driver was a nice old man. he just couldn’t push the gas pedal.
Even after I left the cab, usually they’re gone before I can turn my head, he sat there a while before he pulled out into traffic. I was wondering if I was going to have to call a cab for him.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
woodbine twines
woodbine twines climb higher
where white fragrant flowers go
one after the other,
we shall follow in our time
franco worked for the flower venders,
a woman or two, maybe three of them
covered head to foot in coats
and scarves and inane chatter
would be partners with who knows,
always changing faces,
girasole toward the sun,
now fond franco hasn’t reappeared
he the simple helper schlepper
down on luck, getting by in fancy time
when he wasn’t drinking and falling down
eye trouble, though money never a factor
not when there is none
comes and goes as he wished, as others wished,
then went home, somewhere south,
i heard the name of the village last year
have forgotten the village but not Franco,
thought he’d return
but winter’s over
and he remains gone as the snow
city life is seasons,
that visit, then change,
while woodbine is curling
life does rearrange
where white fragrant flowers go
one after the other,
we shall follow in our time
franco worked for the flower venders,
a woman or two, maybe three of them
covered head to foot in coats
and scarves and inane chatter
would be partners with who knows,
always changing faces,
girasole toward the sun,
now fond franco hasn’t reappeared
he the simple helper schlepper
down on luck, getting by in fancy time
when he wasn’t drinking and falling down
eye trouble, though money never a factor
not when there is none
comes and goes as he wished, as others wished,
then went home, somewhere south,
i heard the name of the village last year
have forgotten the village but not Franco,
thought he’d return
but winter’s over
and he remains gone as the snow
city life is seasons,
that visit, then change,
while woodbine is curling
life does rearrange
Monday, March 15, 2010
the line
mindless repetition
is not really,
for it takes mind and attention
to repeat exactly
repetition then is practice,
to learn a skill
to do it unerringly,
completion of an action beyond fault
next, alteration
and experimentation
lead to discovery
and invention
artistic expression
is on the path
toward improvement
of an idea
is not really,
for it takes mind and attention
to repeat exactly
repetition then is practice,
to learn a skill
to do it unerringly,
completion of an action beyond fault
next, alteration
and experimentation
lead to discovery
and invention
artistic expression
is on the path
toward improvement
of an idea
Labels:
practically science
Sunday, March 14, 2010
be prepared
on a narrow city street
our large city bus stops
behind another,
two, three, four others
our bus driver
says nothing,
gets out, walks away,
doesn’t look back
we get out and get into the front bus
it goes away
with us aboard
we’ll see where it goes
then on another jammed narrow street
all cars are parallel parked
except the one that’s nose in first
and blocks our buses passage
bus honks, a man comes, waves apologies
and moves his little car
hey, this is Roma, we expect chaos,
receive it routinely, good naturedly, warmly
they must put kryptonite in the water
cause we’re all supermen for being here
and then it dulls us enough
to put up with this mess and love it
the bus moves on past new old stores
apartments, flowers on sills, kitties watching,
new kids playing in the streets, a chained yapping dog,
new old folks walking or talking in small groups
we get out to walk in Trastevere
buy pizza slices and ricotta cheese for later
we’re right below Giacomo’s apartment
i call, he invites us up for coffee
he and Virginia with two other couples
had just finished red pasta and green salad lunch,
desserts on the table, we chat over coffee,
meet new people, a good time for all
you never know where the next step leads
when you take to the streets in Roma.
so when you venture out keep a clear head, stay alert,
and like the boy scout motto - be prepared
our large city bus stops
behind another,
two, three, four others
our bus driver
says nothing,
gets out, walks away,
doesn’t look back
we get out and get into the front bus
it goes away
with us aboard
we’ll see where it goes
then on another jammed narrow street
all cars are parallel parked
except the one that’s nose in first
and blocks our buses passage
bus honks, a man comes, waves apologies
and moves his little car
hey, this is Roma, we expect chaos,
receive it routinely, good naturedly, warmly
they must put kryptonite in the water
cause we’re all supermen for being here
and then it dulls us enough
to put up with this mess and love it
the bus moves on past new old stores
apartments, flowers on sills, kitties watching,
new kids playing in the streets, a chained yapping dog,
new old folks walking or talking in small groups
we get out to walk in Trastevere
buy pizza slices and ricotta cheese for later
we’re right below Giacomo’s apartment
i call, he invites us up for coffee
he and Virginia with two other couples
had just finished red pasta and green salad lunch,
desserts on the table, we chat over coffee,
meet new people, a good time for all
you never know where the next step leads
when you take to the streets in Roma.
so when you venture out keep a clear head, stay alert,
and like the boy scout motto - be prepared
Saturday, March 13, 2010
in the back of the bus
a pair of rain wash angels,
bone cold hearts worn
skirting desperation
seated in somber silence
poised, pensive,
tightening spirits,
as we bus rush away
from the maddening center
the princess sisters observe nearby
two younger girls, heads together,
soft giggle working in a word puzzle book.
the older sadly perceive fate of the younger
while along this traffic-bogged way
there are no costly cell phone calls for these riders
full of thought with the occasional low murmur,
remain packed fish in a tin silent
bone cold hearts worn
skirting desperation
seated in somber silence
poised, pensive,
tightening spirits,
as we bus rush away
from the maddening center
the princess sisters observe nearby
two younger girls, heads together,
soft giggle working in a word puzzle book.
the older sadly perceive fate of the younger
while along this traffic-bogged way
there are no costly cell phone calls for these riders
full of thought with the occasional low murmur,
remain packed fish in a tin silent
Friday, March 12, 2010
we are like globes
we are like globes,
similar to the one we live on
with different regions, aspects
when i see you
perhaps my soviet union territory
is facing your north America
always like that
sometimes turned a bit
yet exposing familiar surfaces
we are similar on the edges
where we overlap,
though, if we were to part
then return after a revolution around the sun
and my Australia faced your South America
we wouldn’t recognize each other
we might not even see each other. so
as a point of contact, as reference, as renewal
show me your china, i’ll show you mine
similar to the one we live on
with different regions, aspects
when i see you
perhaps my soviet union territory
is facing your north America
always like that
sometimes turned a bit
yet exposing familiar surfaces
we are similar on the edges
where we overlap,
though, if we were to part
then return after a revolution around the sun
and my Australia faced your South America
we wouldn’t recognize each other
we might not even see each other. so
as a point of contact, as reference, as renewal
show me your china, i’ll show you mine
Labels:
practically science
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