Len Germinara
—Poetry by Len Germinara, Elk Grove, CA
—Poetry by Len Germinara, Elk Grove, CA
—Anonymous Haircut Visuals
JOE AND MADGE
Drink coffee and a plan for the day
Discussed over scrambled invectives
Much the same as
So many of today’s
Modern cosmopolitan couples
They don’t own firearms
Pragmatists of their ilk
Shouldn’t
Children—zero
That’s kept them smiling for years
Religion—god no
He’s mentioned ecstatically
Occasionally
Mostly in relation to food
Environment NO
Deity’s redemption
Imminent
The sitting President
Mudflat and sulfur pools
Exposed crab holes
Festering mud
Punctured soles
Muck boots
Muck boots
Muck boots
If only
Fake news could save the world
From
The Cheeto in Charge who
Wants to raw-dog everything
Like a half-fucked Fox
In a forest fire
Everything
Maleficent CNN please
Create a scenario where
It gets better
Or it ends
Faster
TALK TO ME LIKE I’M 5
It feels like a Mr. Rogers day
So let’s all of us
Put on our speedo and swim cap
Take a bow-legged waddle
Down to our favorite
Watering hole for a moment
Call in, well, hell
Invite whomever
We answer to
Along
We’re all human
Even middle management
Put our collective toes
Mud-deep mired
For as long as we want
In Oceanus
Feel the spin hear the hum
Not move a muscle
Feel the knot of money
For foolishness made of plastic
Evaporate if only for a moment
Hear Blue say Ahh!
Like a baby’s reaction to its
First fart
Before we decide what comes next
Still (the moments of clarity sunrise brings)
Money made from the harvest
This land our land
Should provide a living wage
Along with social security
For everybody let’s start there
If we’re to talk at all
INVESTMENT
Saturdays
Were for haircuts
Dad and I always went to
Joe the barber
On Main St
Nice guy
Real pro
Little heavy with the
Talc
In my opinion
His rules
Told you nose to nose
Every time
And you did not interrupt him
Mind your manners
Get a Lolly Pop
Act up
Get a whack to the back of your neck
He was in those moments
God
And
I’ve always been foolish in the face of the delusional
So
Saturdays were
A little nervous
One Saturday I found Borges
In a second-hand store
Right next door
Because Joe opened late
Thankfully Dad knew the guy behind the counter
So we waited there where
They exchanged b.s. the way men will
While I wandered free range
Amongst the cracked bric-a-brac
There sat Jorge in a stack of paperbacks
His labyrinth straddling
Sport Magazine
The one with Red Sox
On the cover
An extravagance I couldn’t afford
Coveted nonetheless
Borges cost a nickel
Indian head on the front
Buffalo on the back
My one and only
SWERVE
Teddy back from the war
In tatters
Who used to be
Just another one of us
So we left him alone
In the hole he dug for himself
Into an
Embankment on the Merrimack
Recently
Saw his face
In a photographer’s retrospective
From the archives of the Haverhill Gazette
An inquisitive face in the crowd
DA
Jeans and Jack Purcell’s
A real time capsule
Watching the firemen at work
Another shoe factory burns
Let them all burn
Almost ran him over
One Christmas
Buttonwood’s side of the river
Must have been the early eighties
In the gold Ford Maverick
I drove away from my 1st marriage
Following the river’s contours
Like Hannah Duston’s sister
Chasing King Philip’s
Brother
When
Teddy came out of nowhere
Wild-eyed and wet
Looked like a suicide rabbit
In the headlights
Watched him shake his fist
In my rearview mirror
As I passed him
Mad
Because I missed
I guess
TRUCE (FOR CANADA)
For the better part of a decade
She’s been little more than shadow
A forgotten book
In a spare bedroom
Paid little attention
Loved nonetheless
My life and pursuits
Hers
Separate
But overlapping
Ships going somewhere else
Sharing only
A port of call
Just this winter
Things have changed
Imperceptibly at first
Greetings at the door
An occasional Goodnight kiss
Alien but eerily welcome
We are these nights
Wound up in the same bed covers
Vying for the best spot
By the fire
Catching the last light of the day
In its downward slant from the picture window
To where we sit together
Too tired
To get out of
Each other’s way
AH, MAN
With the approaching
Thunder and such
Portend the up-turned collar
Dig my hands down pocket
Turn my shoes towards home
Follow the dog he knows
Where to go
Get
To the rise
Shimmer in the treetop
Icicle shiver
Catch my breath
Almost
Wake in Dave’s basement
Partying with the dead boys
Good to be home
Passing the bong of summer
Where the dead boys flew
In full flower gone
Tied off and wrapped up
Remnants scrapbooked
So we’ll remember
Until we forget
That I would think of you now
Sits me down dumbstruck
No door remains locked
Forever I
Wish it wasn’t so
____________________
Today's LittleNip:
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
—Thomas Gray
___________________
Our thanks and welcome to Len Germinara, a recent California transplant who is author of six collections of poetry, publisher of 18 chapbooks, and 2003 winner of the Cambridge Poetry Award for best narrative poem. Founding member of Spoken Word Nantucket and the Moors Poetry Collective, Len ran a poetry venue on Nantucket for twelve years and one in Southern Massachusetts for four years. In addition, for over fifteen years he has provided literacy workshops on poetry and bookbinding for a host of schools in Massachusetts and Colorado. Len and his wife, Dr. Sarah Oktay, recently moved to Elk Grove, California. Len’s most recent reading was as co-feature with the Sacramento Poetry Slam team at the Sacramento Poetry Center in August. His most recent collection, Of Course I Could Be Wrong, is available from Amazon Books (www.amazon.com/Course-Could-Be-Wrong/dp/0692231161/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1536427869&sr=1-1&keywords=len+germinara).
Welcome to the Kitchen, Len, and don’t be a stranger! For more from Len, go to lengerminaradotcom.wordpress.com/.
Tonight, the Placerville version of Poetry Off-the-Shelves meets at the El Dorado County Library on Fair Lane in Placerville, 5-7pm. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
Len Germinara
Celebrate poetry—and poets!
Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.
