rather symbolic

another poem from 8:95. rather symbolic of the feelings lately - esp. from the containerboard mill ....




OLD MEN WITH LANGUAGES OF THEIR OWN

they spoke in riddles
old men with languages of their own
old men who had their own myths
from places so far away
they never were real

they fumbled with napkins
as the waitress tried to hurry them
they counted pennies & dimes for tips
like it really made a difference

when the dark wind spoke to them
with fog & blackened leaves
they seemed deaf
they just hobbled along avenues
like they had all day to get somewhere

dandelion seeds in the wind

another 7:95 poem, published in April 1998 by Vantage Point. Gotta love them small presses and their dedicated editors, and of course gotta love all those that help support those presses.

back to the linerboard machine in the morning ... so most likely no updates for four or five days ...



POEM FOR LEONARD

words are dandelion seeds in the wind
beautiful as they spiral
into the cracks of broken sidewalks
- all too easily ignored
& stepped upon
by non-believers

call the night lover, as fog slips
from the river
& peers through your window
you stare into dark eyes
reach for pale flesh
darkness is no comfort

the price paid - from our vantage point
the sun is a curse & inspiration
-as is the rain, the wind
to the dandelions
they are merely tools
of existence

words are dandelion seeds in the wind
the estate gardeners may not see beauty
but the children laugh
as they blow the seeds
into a dark wind -
the perfect incantation

we shall see

today's poem is from 8:97 .

late April and the past two mornings, there has been snow before daybreak. Nothing major, and it's melted as soon as the sun manages to get through the clouds. just a twist in the weather, but pretty interesting stuff for late April.

we hear August is the earliest before the IP transaction of the papermill could happen. i suspect lots of rumors and uncertainty by then. i'll keep you posted, as i hear things. right now, the biggest concerns are if the mill will continue to run and for how long. We already know that the retirement issues will be pretty messed up. we shall see.



URBAN LOVE
-after carruth

you can look for love
the way old men wait for buses -
wondering when they changed the time-table.
frost on the hood of cars that no longer run,
all bundled -or it is gift wrapped-
for the season.

or you can search for it
like a spelunker,
in all the hard to find places of strip malls,
as if it were a discount bin treasure.

neither way works well.
if you find one that does,
send proofs. you have my address.

the wind scatters cup & napkins
from the McDonalds down the street.
i tell you, they don't pay me
to keep this street clean.
ain't no love worth finding
on dirty napkins anyway.

in memory

Today’s poem is from 1:5:94 - i wrote quite a few poems about my sister Lori, after her death. she was born a year and week after me. we were best of friends. this one was written on what would have been her birthday. She died of cancer in her early 30’s.



IN MEMORY: LORI


i tells you, ghosts in this frozen wind
bites the balls off angels.
whispers
in a gale. intellectuals finds uncomfortable ways
to dismiss it. me: i pees my pants
in solemn worship.
ghosts - i seen 'em
wearing gowns of stars,
wearing fallen leaves in their hairs,
like the wind itself.

i tells you, january ain't no time for canonization.
water wears a crazed stare & the wind
hobbles on one drunken leg.
ghosts whispers
in a gale. holy men worship stone,
swearing ghosts be demons. fools, Ha!
ghosts be the loneliness of dreams. i tells it proud,
even if i pees my pants in worship.

only a pawn in the game

8:93 is the time frame for today's poem ... but the sentiments are pretty much what i've been feeling since Weyco put the containerboard division for sale, and esp. since the "sale" to IP has been announced and all the either non-information or misinformation that has proliferated since. As of now, all we have been told for certain is August is the earliest the sale can be completed and the Weyco pensions (as crappy as they are) will not be carried over to IP, thus everyone now employed by Weyco will be retired the day the sale is finalized (with all the penalties of early retirement levied?). The "seminars" promised by the big company to clarify all this are now surfacing as "webinfo" gatherings. nothing like that personal touch, you know, from the Mother Company, letting her children go forth into the wicked world .... damn, i should be putting Bobby Dylan's "Only A Pawn In Their Game" up as the theme of the day ...



I TELLS YOU, GOD IS A WHORE

i tells you, god is a whore
on the rag,
looking cross-eyed at the world
no favors to grant.

i speaks to him in eloquent soliloquies
& he does not understand,
nothing but cold cash
keeps his attention.

i shaves with a dull razor,
the old face knows the terminology of pain
& is not made beautiful.

my limp could have been heroic
had it been upon a rare visionary,
rather than an old man.

i cuts sunlight into broken patters
misplaced in pockets
& limps around the darkness,
seeking places to enlighten.

rainbows ignore me
as they cradle mossy mountains
& i caresses rust.

no explanations.

vacuum cleaner blues

today's rumor mill contains a hot one - seems our mill manager (and thus a company vice president) "resigned immediately", as explained in a note sent out to all employees yesterday (ie the personnel to be sold in the mill change-over) .. but the talk in back rooms is he was removed due to inappropriate statements made to some secretaries. Who knows? Well, someone does, and i doubt they are saying anything beyond the official statement.

spring is sort of arriving. cool and cloudy today, with a chance of rain - but still in the 50's and nights above freezing. but hey, i am on vacation for a week, and the weather isn't really an issue. Besides, soon i am off to really celebrate - buying a new vacuum cleaner, as the old one bit the dust (oh, well, bad pun) yesterday ..

the poem for today comes from 2:98. a pleasant piece, for a change.


WHERE THE CAT ONCE SLEPT

afternoon sunshine where the cat
once slept. two shadows converse
about the latest government crisis.
old woman in a dark kitchen
cooks the same dish as yesterday,
the thin cat between her feet.
in the streets young boys at football
until curfew.

a slave - on vacation

today's poem comes from 7:93.

i am on vacation this week and hopefully will get a couple of new posts up, or at least get a few poems typed up for possible future use...

no rumors lately from the great Kraft Linerboard machine. Of course, there remains a HUGE uncertainty about what IP (International Paper) plans to do with us. One of the Weyco webpages said, so matter of factly, that IP bought the containboard as well as the employees. (Gee, i thought they fought a war in the 1860's to do away with buying and selling of humans ... must not have had to do with the paper industry ....) Anyway, whenever the deal is finalized, August or there abouts we are hearing, though nothing is confirmed, we will become the property of IP. Here's to hoping they are good masters.



THE CANDLE NEVER LIT

the candle never lit
remains perfect
as the prayers rehearsed but never offered

rain off a window
that sees the mundane repeated
until it past boring
now a vigil

two arms aching
as they hold the stones of despair
bones that ultimately fail
& dreams that keep life a possibility

the candle waits
a dream
yet to be ignited