Friday, September 30, 2005

i got an e-mail from philip. he had read my post about the early morning vapor rising from the allegheny and sent this. i asked if i could use it and philip agreed. he is excellent at what is called by some"found poems" taking words from anywhere, could be an advertisement or a news article, anything that somehow becomes a poem with the poet's mindset. thanks, my friend.

The Allegheny River
(a vision early this morning)

The night was cold and the river warmer.
It's winding, twisting, ribbon of silver rose to form a trail
above the water

beneath the silver ribbon: leaves, mostly maples, just begun to turn
red at the edges

their hue, like apples, green with red curves.
another weekend, fall is here. i love fall, the allegheny river was a vision early this morning. the night was cold and the river warmer, so the river was a winding, twisting ribbon of silver vapor rising to form low clouds about 6 feet above the water. the leaves are just begining to turn, mostly maples turning red at the edges of the trees, like apples that are green with red curves. s

shoulders white curves
and the hollows
soft shadows in the night
shadings on her body
from moonlight slipping
through half opened blinds.
starshine lines the
delta of her sex
colors skin
silver and black
midnight's wanderer
searching for dreams.
" it's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

Henry David Thoreau

Thursday, September 29, 2005

a small rant to go along with the poem. the drug of choice around here, is heroin. god, you'd think people would have wised up by now. there are so many young people here, in rehab or sadly, NOT in rehab. get real, HEROIN? god, we figured out fairly quick back in the 60's that it was really bad news. i had a relative die a few years back. he was older, a product of the 60's, partied his whole life away and even he didn't mess with heroin til the last few years of his life, when the drugs had pretty much eaten him alive. he said heroin was cheaper, imagine THAT, a cost conscious junkie, too bad he couldn't clip coupons for it!!!! one bright spot about having him in the family, watching him destroy his life and hurt family and abuse or kill friendships, seeing him waste away into a gollum like figure, it kept the young kids in the family away from drugs. they avoided them and him. his loss, they're good kids. too bad he didn't learn by THEIR example!
cocaine thoughts

in quiet times
i pick them up with
my memories of you
turn them upside down
with a gentle shake, set them
rightside up like a snowglobe
white flakes drift slowly down
covering your grave.
hello, i heard that the stones concert at pnc park here was amazing! i'm not surprised, tho i wish i had their energy! pnc park is a great place for concerts, you can hang out on the bridge or come by boat and float on the river and listen. me, i'm saving for their next cd, if i don't find something else i desperately need, like, um, a new pair of boots!!!! just a shoe slut at heart here. i'd have a closet full if i could afford them! s

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

i really don't watch much t.v. these days, tho i do channel surf a lot at night. i just want to recommend countdown with keith olbermann, on msnbc.

he is just the best around for a news junkie like me with a quirky sense of humor. he also has a blog which i try to read daily since i can't always catch his nightly show. you might want to take a look. s

yes revel in dark musings
wear your tortured soul your
proudflesh of germanic ancestors
you who thinks getting shitfaced
at an octoberfest in pittsburgh
you wear the uniform
of the mediocre artist well.
i saw the local news last night. the stones are in pgh. going to be performing downtown tonight. you know, i have always like the stones, and one of the first places they played in the states was here, years ago. you'd think they'd be gracious when they were checking into the hotel downtown, but the only member that didn't rush past the reporters was ron woods. ( think it was him, didn't have my glasses on or my new contacts in, ha!) he stopped to speak, and was charming and kind. it only takes a moment, yes, there are many cities, many stops, many reporters. still, it only is a moment or two out of lives that are richer and more interesting to live because of fame. only right to give back a moment or two for the fans. just my little sort of rant. i'm too old and too busy to care all that much anymore.
hello again, the sun is bright, but it's really chilly! the first frost of the season is forecast for this weekend. i am dreading having to turn the furnace on. they are saying that the price of heating, whether gas or oil will be awful. s

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

i hesitated to post this. it is adult in nature, BUT, it has already been submitted for c&c to my workgroup ages ago and was thought well of and it is a favorite one of mine. so be forewarned. it's a poem, ya know??

green quilt

white skin damp against white skin
a dark green quilt makes the curves and lines
legs, thighs, arms, hollows and hills, shine

dark eyes look down into darker
as i fit myself over you
heated muscles, a silky wetness

holding you as close as a condom could
gentle squeeze and release, over
and again

bending back, white skin, white ceiling
forward, dark eyes, green quilt, moist
words that i taste from your mouth

we wear each other's passions
like birthmarks underneath clothes
unseen but familiar, always there.

too soon, you go home.
i strip the green quilt from the bed and
stuff it into the washing machine,

now your scent is left
only between my legs.

"I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar." Robert Brault

this came in my e-mail, my daily thought alert.

I can count on one hand, I think, the times anyone didn't consult their "schedule" for me, unless there was an emergency involved. People are so very busy anymore. I used to be that way, til I found that truly, life is short and "things" are just that, "things" someone will always have more or better, someone will have less.

and at the end of each day, while one person is looking around and saying mine, all mine, just look at the things I have, someone else is saying goodnight to another human being, a living being, that cares about them and not their "things" and is the far richer one. s

i know that money is needed everywhere right now. i've been contributing as well. please tho,(in keeping with this latest poem) keep the children's tumor foundation, in mind. thanks, s
i reworked this. it's something that i submitted and was never updated on, once i was notified that i'd be notified. we all know how that goes at times. so i found it and decided to redo it because it is a very personal work. s


in dreams i dance
waltz, polka, boot scoot
cha cha

i feel the wind in dreams
riding the 10 speed i never owned
i skate, in line or
the old key clamps on penny loafers
just a normal 50's sidewalk kid

double dutch jumping
with a best friend, so fast
ropes blur

in dreams i live a different life
graceful, normal. in nightmares

i see bright lights, breathe
remembered smells that almost wake me
hear whirring inside my skull
metal on bone

in my dreams, i dance
and no one looks, and
looks away.

Monday, September 26, 2005

reglan is a medication, which some people truly must have. i didn't. how do i know this? because i threw the f'ing pills away after my neurologist confirmed that the medication was giving me neurological damage that might have been permanent. i still have some nasty little effects, but they are livable and i am still here, so i'd say i didn't need the pills in the first place. as to right wing talk radio, well, wish it was as easy to get rid of as those pills were! s
reglan or right wing talk radio

reglan stole my books,
left newspapers unread
tho i opened each section
page by page, pretending.

tiny little pills, swallowed whole
along with the promise of another day

another long night paced in
barefoot silence til dawn,
another daybreak without words
without escape

i turned to talk radio
any company i thought
any noise, any words
to replace the ones reglan stole from me.

i should have
thrown the fucking pills away sooner and
took my chances!
been reading a blog called, overheard in pittsburgh. yeah, it's my hometown alright!!! i am enjoying the hell out of it. maybe it's a " burg thing???" .
this poem, pittsburgh pre roe, watercolor, you can take it however you choose, to suit however you feel on the subject of roe v wade. you will anyway. me, i am just reporting history using a poem. s.
pittsburgh pre roe, watercolor

before the hill burned in the 68 riots
she walked toward wylie
early morning sun
it's shine filtered soft in sooty air
mill town, steel town air.

it painted a dull halo around
her shoulder length blondness
showed blue undertones to
suburban white skin

another pittsburgh madonna
standing on an uptown street
wearing bellbottoms, clutching
a folded bit of notepaper, knuckles
red with the cold.

a dozen rust colored row houses
broken grey sidewalks, yellowed curtains
one pair, pushed aside, waiting
for the first of that day.

black, brown, white
all pittsburgh madonnas
watercolored with tears.

she came. a sistine vision, knelt down
opening her churub pink mouth
to his dark hardness. unholy communion

before he scraped her shame
from a womb not ready
using a tool that might have come
from a kitchen drawer or
a carpenter's box.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

if you need a bizarre little laugh,

a friend sent me one of these little cartoons featuring foamy the squirrel. it was the squirrel's rant on the new orleans coverage by the media. really sharp commentary by a foul mouthed cartoon squirrel! this clip is about fears and mentions poetry so i thought, hey why not pass it on? bear in mind, foamy is loony and has a really foul mouth. i loved him tho. guess that says something about my nature and what strikes me as funny at times! s
a chilly, damp saturday. yesterday was the type of a bad day that i suppose gives people fodder for country and western songs! almost nothing went well. maybe someday i might get a poem out of the goings on, but not now, gaaawwwwwdd, not now! s

Friday, September 23, 2005

oh, i am envious. just heard from philip( i have some of his poems here, on my little blog)
he is going to see dylan in november.
i love dylan's words, the ones he chooses and how he places them, his concept of things.

philip lives in england, but i'll ask for a review!
i hope your weekend brings special moments. 2 quotes to help make it so.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage." Lao-Tzu

"The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved-
loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."
Victor Hugo
the note

typed neat
no smudges stark white
knife edged folds not
as sharp as the razor

i would like a coffin
of polished wood
dark and shining as
a buckeye just pried

from it's prickly jacket,
smooth with a soft glow
tempting hands to stroke

satin under fingertips
reminding you
of my skin.
i've been going back and messing with a few poems of mine that haven't been published. i think that's o.k.

i just can't be satisfied with most of my work. i have to keep trying to improve. s
a promise kept

hasn't rained for two weeks or more
sharp dry grass pricks my bare ankles
as i make my trips back and forth from

the trunk of my car, up the
short slope, back down carrying
green plastic flats, tall red geraniums, mixed
with small gold and orange marigolds

their shapes and colors bring to mind
buttons on a fancy dress uniform.
the kind of buttons that say

look, someone important is coming by
but, no one is, just me
with a trowel, watering can and
flowers that look like buttons

down on my knees i soak the ground so
i can dig holes in graveyard clay.
i arrange the tall and the short

reds, golds and oranges
to my satisfaction, maybe his
hope so anyway

pouring the last of the water
over the grey stone making it darker
washing away the pigeon droppings and dust

wiping my hands on my jeans
i say hello and goodbye for another year.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005


oak leaves turn
in the apple scented
breath of fall

sunlight splashes trees
makes laughing faces
in rough grey bark

autumn spirits
caper and tease
call me by name

an invitation to
make merry and
join in the dance.
i have found something to smile about. Gary Blankenship, who very kindly was a guest poet here, has told us(the PK list) that he is to have 3 tanka in the Tanka Society of Japan's 2005 anthology-in japanese-. they are poems from the River Wang Tanka. i am just so happy for him. as i wrote, he is gifted at forms that i wish i could do justice to. s.
wed. morning, trying to find reasons to smile. s
the wait

woolen blankets are a solid weight
holding my arms and legs
in a warmth i take
no comfort from.

each breath
a deliberate act
thought about, planned.

with each breath
a different memory
one in the rise of my chest
another in the falling.

my eyes, painful, unblinking
a dry, hard stare
single minded focus piecing
grey motes into outlines in the dark.

waiting for the
ringing of the phone,
telling me your breath has stilled
your memories gone into the night.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

a comment, i read the news today. (odd that phrase always reminds me of the beatles song)

Simon Wiesenthal passed on. i do not have words to express my feelings.his life, his experiences are beyond my ability to comprehend. blessings on him and on his work. s

Monday, September 19, 2005

if you are a poet, you should check out

he is putting together poetry to help in donations
for the hurricane survivors. it's an interesting concept.
i hope it does well. s
every time i google my name or check it on msn, yahoo etc. i come across this little poem. i think it was the first thing i ever attempted to get on the internet, right after i got my first computer(a hand me down from a wonderful friend. it was due to be scrapped and it became all mine!)

it wasn't even typed in correctly, but i left it there, as is, to remind me. now it's time for me to do a little work on it. it was a small thing, but it brings me memories that make me smile. this is how it was,

soap bubble

so very fragile, this love
we have for each other

like the promise of a rainbow
in a soap bubble
too delicate to be touched
by the fingers of reality.

THIS is what i decided to do with it.

soap bubble

so very delicate
this love

the promise of rainbows
in soap bubbles

too fragile for
our realities.
i just got this joke from mick.

what is george bush's position on roe vs wade?

answer, he doesn't care how people get out of new orleans!

sad, but true. s
ah, monday morning. on my 2nd cup of coffee. still trying to get used to these contact lenses. i can get them out, no problem and putting them in is getting easier. i hope to become an expert at it soon. you know, like the people that can pop them in or out without making a big production out of it, like i do. god, my bathroom sink looks as if i'm about to do a heart transplant on it! wish me luck, thanks. s

Sunday, September 18, 2005

dropping you, like

a bad habit

that's just the way
it is with me. it
always was, most probably always
will be, guess so
can't change. maybe
i wouldn't wanna
even if i could.

you know the way
i am. yes siree
you surely do.

while i'm in a mood for religious discussion,

at times

i come to you
owning the sin
i come
for the scent of your skin
the taste of your mouth
i risk hell and forgo heaven
i come

Saturday, September 17, 2005

"why not let people differ about their answers to the great mysteries of the universe? let each seek one's own way to the highest, to one's own sense of supreme loyalty in life, one's ideal of life. let each philosophy, each world-view bring forth it's truth and beauty to a larger perspective, that people may grow in vision, stature and dedication." algernon black

" at least two thirds of our miseries spring from human stupidity, human malice and those motivators and justifiers of malice and stupidity, idealism, dogmatism and proselytizing zeal on behalf of religious or political idols." aldous huxley
confessions at st. scholastica
circa 1958

3 o'clock saturday afternoon,every
saturday afternoon.
incense and burning beeswax
i thought it was like holy aftershave lotion
like my dad's aqua velva.
it tickled my nose.
i tried not sneezing. i never knew
if sneezing in church was a sin.
the sisters of st. francis, well
they weren't known for suffering the
questions of little children,
no matter WHAT jesus had to say about it.
they always told us that IF
we were hit by a truck after confession
we'd go straight to heaven
a get out of jail free card in
catholic monopoly.

they weren't sure if we were flattened
on our way there if our intent
would mean much.

i would squeeze my eyes shut, one small and

insignificant supplicant. confessing a little kid's sins.

they are much more interesting now

STILL forgive me father?

Friday, September 16, 2005

and just because it's friday and it's going to rain AND, i'll probably be eating a chicken dinner at boston market tonight...

why did the chicken cross the road??

"to die in the rain." ernest hemingway

enjoy!!! s.
have an album/cd, god, i'm old, ALBUM, ha! to recommend.

the excello story 1957 to 1961. it has some great songs on it. 3 of my favorites are, i hear you knockin' by lazy lester, rooster blues by light'n slim and this one, rainin' in my heart by slim harpo!

really some good music. s

tock, tick
the minute hand
in sharp starts and stops
in time with your words
deliberate tock
tick talk. i can
you choose just the right words.

i dug this out of my files. i had just found out that a local talk show host that i always enjoyed is back on the air. that made me remember this little poem. i wrote the poem before i started watching/listening to, the host, but hey, an idea is an idea! s

another weekend. gaaaawwwwwwwdddd! s.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

i was born and raised in pittsburgh. some of us have stronger accents than others, some slide into it when just "aht" or, " dahn tahn", so this poem.

you might want to check out, www.

i'm proud to be a pittsburgher. s.
one sided conversation, in pittsburgese

" hey buddy, ya needta grow up
will ya please? jesus buddy
ya were so fuck'n drunk, what
a show ya put on, at yer goddamn age
a god-damn-middle-aged man
act'n like 'at!

what were ya try'n ta prove anyway?
all that bullshit about tha old days
tha big time make out artist
tha local stud, HA!
hey, i'm yer best buddy here, ya unnerstand me? huh?
grow up, ya embarrassed yerself
yer wife, christ, didja fergit she was here, over
inna corner, play'n tha machines. jesus
was she PISSED! fuckit,
ya even pissed me off, ME, yer best buddy!
i threw a tip onna bar an walked out, never even
looked back atcha, buddy!!!!
hey, i know ya man
ya never was some kinda stud. i know'd it
everybody knows ya here. damn we tried hard not ta laugh
too loud.
we watched ya try'n ta pick up fuck'n angie
dumb bitch, an even she was'n kicked inna ass enough
ta go out inna park'n lot witcha, man
THAT'S say'n summp'n. hell ya
could'n even cop a feel offa her
even when yer old lady wassn't stare'n dagger eyes atcha.

christ sakes buddy, grow some balls willya?
ya make us all look like shit when
ya get THAT damn plowed
we're a classy buncha guys here, YA KNOW?"

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

This goes with the poem, "lunch"

" the world needs anger. The world often continues to allow evil because it isn't angry enough."

bede jarrett

Monday, September 12, 2005


a bagel
lightly buttered with accusations
black coffee
stirred with twisted truths,
swallowing words between bites,
the coffee grows cold
like me.
a little note about uncle buck.(see poem, "for buck" ) pudd'n boy had uncle buck cremated. i will be going that way as well, someday. i will be blow'n in the wind and one with the universe!

well, uncle buck's ashes are at pudd'n and pudd'n's wife GL'S place. they have included uncle buck in some parties and watching sports on t.v.(uncle buck loved t.v. almost as much as his Harley) pudd'n found a ton of old photos while cleaning out buck's house. he brought them out to the backyard where we were sitting and we put them up next to buck on a table and partied with and for uncle buck!

uncle buck wasn't a traditionally handsome man, but he had great charm and a good heart. his nephew has that heart as well. the pictures, i was surprised to find that buck was very good looking when he was young. he still had a way with the ladies, even right before he passed on. i can see why. it wasn't ever his looks tho, i think it always was his sense of fun and his kind heart. here's to you uncle buck! s.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

i thought it might be interesting if people saw an example of one type of c&c(comments and critiques) from my workgroup, the PK list. i'll post the poem i sent in and then i will post philip's reply. philip reworked my piece to show how he might have approached it. other times, a member might just suggest a word change or two, or perhaps point out that there are too many "ings" in the poem, or too many " I's" or, if a poem might be better ended at an earlier stanza, making the work more concise,things one might not have thought of. the workgroup i am in is one of the best i've seen, and because there are poets of completely different styles, everyone benefits. s

shine on, my love

like one of the stars dawn touches
unafraid of the coming light,
you reach for the rose tinged morning
to find the warmth hidden
in the softening blue
bright and beautiful still.
willing to risk all
for the sun's promise
of another day together.

this is philip's

my love, shine on

unafraid at dawn
you reach for a rose
find warmth in it's softness
risk all in hope just one more
star burst.

if you read my poem and philip's you'll notice that tho similar, the meanings are slightly different. philip's is more intimate, a lover reaching for a rose. mine is more of a statement. a discription of a lover's qualities. two poems, using the same basic idea, but really two different yet touching poems about lovers. my thanks to philip for agreeing to let me use his poem to show a little of how working with a group helps. philip is always there to help a fellow poet or a friend. he shares his talent graciously. s

Saturday, September 10, 2005

it's a beautiful saturday morning. the nights have been cool lately, 55 degrees last night, the days, around 80, tho it's going to get hot again this week. in the high 80's. doesn't seem like football weather, but the season's started and the rabid steeler fans have hit the streets and bars and such.

at the little club/bar, where i spend a lot of my time, steeler games are fun to watch. i really am not into sports, but the people at the bar make the game for me. we have one guy that sometimes dresses like a referee, striped shirt and a whistle hung round his neck. there is a lady there that has a plush toy chicken that flaps and sings when pressed and if the steelers score she runs a lap around the bar holding the chicken over her head! everyone knows everyone else there and it usually is a lot of fun. unless the team stinks that day! guess we'll see tomorrow.

me, i just like the company. i have one favorite player on the team, jerome betis (i think that's how it's spelled) i like him because off the field he seems a caring and generous man, always ready to lend support to a charity or a cause. THAT is a true hero in my books. s
to go with the start of football season...

hot sausage dip

1 lb. hot sausage
1 ten oz. can diced tomatoes and green chilies
1 eight oz package of softened cream cheese
3/4 cup(about 3 oz.) shredded sharp cheddar cheese

corn chips

cook and drain sausage, add tomates and chiles and cream cheese
pour into greased 1 quart baking dish, sprinkle with cheddar cheese bake at 350 degrees or until it bubbles. serve with corn chips

note. everytime i see something with sausage in it i think of mick, he sometime calls me a silly sausage. i like that, cause it's TRUE! s

Friday, September 09, 2005

i wrote,"Linda Lovelace" back in 02 after i saw a article on her. she had changed her life, wanted her idea of normalcy. i have no problem with adult films or the actors in them. IF they choose it, then it is their right. if they choose later to leave it, that should be their right as well. freedom, that is what it's all about. i felt bad for her, branded with that film, which, is pretty tame by today's standards. sex is sex. as far as i know we aren't handing out scarlet letters, at least, not yet, thankfully. s
Linda Lovelace

do you watch me in your bed
old videos, under covers
in the dark with eyes
half closed and curled fingers?
can you see me, do you listen
to my voice saying things i'd never say
not to you, anyway!
do you rewind to the"good parts"
fast forward those that aren't?
do you slo mo, can you freeze frame on
images that please, tease
get you off?
black or white
or color, these
movies in your bed
do you rate them? am i 4 stars?
does it fucking matter that i'm dead?
"Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained." William Blake

"If you greatly desire something, have the guts to stake everything on obtaining it." Brendan Francis

" The wise man will love; all others will desire." Afranius

"the best is to be loved and desired and to love AND desire." Me
" The secret to a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We rarely forget that which has made a deep impression on our minds." Tryon Edwards

sometimes i wonder if i am easily forgotten or if it has to be worked at, if one has to keep busy in order to forget. s

Thursday, September 08, 2005

still trying to get used to these contact lens! me, i think they need to be a little bit stronger, but i guess i'll find out next week with my follow up. i'm still nervous about taking them out and putting them in. having them in is no bother, i'm not squeamish about touching my eyes, been doctoring with my eyes and just about everything else since i was 2. i think if i can make it through a brain tumor at that age, i can get through a week of adjusting to contacts!!! maybe i'm getting wimpy?! s.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

" The primary purpose of government is for the protection of the people. My neighbor can tell me there are 20 Gods or no Gods at all... and it neither picks my pocket or breaks my leg."

new orleans 05

it was said this morning
to tether the dead
so bloated corpses

can't float away
human balloons
filled with sorrows.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

will you taste

if i say that i love
only you

will you taste
the truth with just the
tip of your
tongue, or

lick it dry,
juices running down your chin
like the sweetness of sex. words

locked around your mind, tight
as legs circling naked hips. truth
just got back a bit ago. went to my eye doctor. my goodness, i'm moving into at least the 20th century(hey, it's a start, ha! ) got my first pair of contact lenses!!!! i wore them for 4 hours, was a little nervous about removing them, but it was not as difficult as i imagined. have to go back in a week. if no problems arise i can wear contacts when i go out instead of fumbling for my glasses to read the selections on the jukebox!!! cool! s.
goodmorning. this is one from 03. i had a lot of help from the pk'rs. thanks.

that woman

her, the woman that i
want to be, she is
the woman that i really am
somewhere, in here
in the cluttered me, the
awkward me, buried
in the woman with bitten nails.
i see her at times
tiny teasing glimpses
see how she winks at me?
sly, seductive
urging me to dig, dig
deeper within, til i bleed.
singing a song with notes i can't yet reach
her sanity hidden in the chords.

Monday, September 05, 2005

no poem today. i've worn myself out watching parts of my country being turned into a land i do not recognize, not by katrina, not by the levees breaking, but by my government in washinton in their slow and seemingly callous response. sad and angry and fearful doesn't begin to touch my feelings. s

so, today, a quote,

"We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit."

e.e. cummings

Friday, September 02, 2005

by the way, don't click on links for any products in comments to this blog. it's just spam. i forgot to turn on my verification before. thanks, s.
for buck

i think i can write this now
for buck
because his death hasn't quite
become real for me yet, not
really real
like it was for pudd'n boy and randy
they found him. gone
two weeks or so, that's real.
buck is/was/is
pudd'n's uncle buck
he was everyone's uncle buck, but
he is/was/is, pudd'n's blood.

so this is for buck, cause
it isn't really, real for me yet.
it will be soon and i won't be able to write
because the realness will make my fingers
fumble at the keys. i will feel
as if i've no right, tho he was uncle buck
who always laughed and
brought cake, leaving his Harley at home
cause you can't bring cake on a bike.
if i saw his car in pudd'n's driveway
i knew there was cake.

there will be other cakes, someday
uncle buck tho,
he brought good times along with the cakes.
right now i'll think about the good times
because soon enough, it will be really real.
i think when i see pudd'n
or i don't see uncle buck's car in pudd'n's driveway,
then it will be real
and i won't write.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

her mom named her peaches

she thinks that's funny
so, she stuffs rubbers into a mason jar
hidden in the fruit cellar
on a shelf behind the canned peaches.
the tampons are sitting in a cupboard
with the liquid pine cleaner
peaches finds that funny too.
the freezer is filled with diet food
that's past the expiration date
by at least a year or so.
she says they taste like the feelings
she has when
she's shoving another trojan in the jar
and laughs the hardest at that.
peaches has all the makings of a poet.
god, it's getting late, i have insomnia, had it for years. so i'm writing. it's my blog, so i'm writing.

had an interesting evening debating politics and religion. i'm thankful that i live in a country where i can sit in public and discuss politics not worrying overmuch about being overheard and that i was sitting at a bar/club where discussing politics and religion won't get one into a screaming match or a brawl. ( tho it may get me looked at, as being odd because some of my views are not the majority views, some, not even the minority view, just MY views) i hope that never changes and i hope that it never gets to the point in this country where we, the people, are afraid to express opinions openly. s.
this poem, is about and for my late grandfather, Gabriel Ferraro. it isn't half of what he was, the rest is in my memories and a large part, in who i am. s.
everyday heroics

day by day
he taught by being himself.
strong enough to teach gentleness
to a grandchild schooled
in the harshness of life.
lessons given by example
not humiliation.
a wide smile, an open heart
through years of an
ordinary life
an extraordinary man.