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| —Poetry by Tom Goff, Caschwa, Michael Ceraolo, Joseph Nolan, Sue Crisp —Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan and Sue Crisp |
ELEGY FOR L.F.*
—Tom Goff, Carmichael, CA
Franciscan poets’ patron saint and chaplain,
Eager we read, electrically more,
Radicalized as you rayed your stubborn stanzas
Lit hot, from the centripetal rose-heart outward
Invincibly to-all-compass-points radiating.
Not only were you Bookstore Man, your shelves
Ginsberg’s, Lamantia’s, Snyder’s, Hirschman’s, Duncan’s;
Howl your cause célèbre, your legal fist
Erected, knuckles scant inches from censors’ faces;
Truthful your Coney Island mind, your paintings:
Time you subdued generous, rendered uneroding:
Into print first pressed Marie Ponsot’s word-mandalas…
Envoi
City-ensorcelling on, your North Beach station,
Life-powering heartbeating current, City Lights.
*Lawrence Ferlinghetti, San Francisco poet, publisher, bookseller (City Lights Bookstore) who passed away this month at the age of 101.
DOWN AND DIRTY*
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
in the far greater scheme of things
a clam, an oyster, a turtle, and a
snake were reincarnated—bing!
into humans, and placed on a veranda
from which they could look out
upon the landscape and seascape
and all commiserate about
the plight from which humans could not escape
all of that smug complacency
with having such sizable brains
had made it the utmost emergency
to tally their assets and gains
while plopping their worthless bodies
indoors in guess what? a SITTING ROOM!
warming their tongues with hot toddies
never reaching or touching a broom
it’s not our nature
to sit in a closet like
shiny, new dust pans
*triggered by Tom Goff’s reference to
“sitting room” in “Mistress Mary”, Medusa’s
Kitchen, February 24, 2021
SENIOR ADVANTAGE
—Caschwa
my Chihuahua is about
40 years older than I am
suffers from heart disease
which causes her to wheeze
loves her medicine ground
up in cream cheese
will jump off the bed
when ready to be fed
but we help her to get back up
because she’s no longer a pup
THE WRITTEN WORD
—Caschwa
televised interviews depict
individuals posed in front of
recently polished bookshelves
displaying published classics,
the top authoritative reference
works, etc. using the faces
and spines of the collection of
books to distract us from other
possibilities, such as arsenals
of illegal weapons, stashes of
street drugs, stacks of cages
of stolen children, columns of
counterfeit cash, wormholes
of wrangled women
the mere viewing of
wrongdoing lacks the muscle
to correct what’s wrong
COUNTING MATTERS
—Caschwa
they flee a tyrannical regime
ruled harshly by oil cartels
consent of the governed is hogwash
complainers told: don’t ask, don’t tell
somehow they manage to arrive
at the gateway to the land of liberty
and face a welcoming committee
that only welcomes their puberty
the lucky can start a new life
become citizens, salute our flag
pay taxes, be good neighbors
their children and ours will play tag
but before you get your hopes up
there is something else to consider
the counting of votes was disrupted
by a wannabe highest bidder
hail to the money
stop worrying about crime
we don’t really care
TWO POEMS FROM DUGOUT ANTHOLOGY
—A Collection by Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
At the BallPark
Eventually,
the parks' public-address systems
were done away with,
leaving
the fans at the park with three choices
of how to receive game information
(and the constant music,
though
some of the choices allowed one
to reduce or eliminate the music,
and
there were those few who chose
to eliminate the information):
one,
to read it off the many smaller video boards
that had replaced the single giant board
(ever-declining literacy levels
made this the most esoteric choice);
two,
audio/video apps for one's mobile device(s)
(the most popular choice);
and three,
audio/video streams implanted
directly into the brain once a person
had reached the age of majority
and could legally choose to do so,
though
of course there were those who didn't wait
and had it done illegally
(this was the least popular at first
as the bugs in the new technology
were worked out,
but it eventually grew
to be solidly the second-most popular choice)
* * *
At the BallPark (2)
Another innovation
was the excess section
This was not for standing-room fans
once the park had reached
its seating capacity,
as it had been in the old days,
but
rather a special section
for those dedicated to excess,
whether food or drink or real or
simulated game situations
There would be vomitoria,
overnight accommodations for those
no longer able to drive or teleport,
with
those who chose this section
knowing they would be subject
to strict scrutiny of their sobriety
if they wanted to leave
(it has never been noted
how much wisdom was found
by those who traveled this road)
CHARGING UP MY E-CAR*
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
If I come to visit,
I might need
To charge my car,
Because electric vehicles
Can’t travel all that far
Without another charge.
I hope that you won’t mind
If I drive up your e-bill,
Since every little takeaway
Counts a little?
These things are the
Burdens of electrical cars:
You have to charge them somewhere
Since they won’t go very far.
PAINTING MY WHITE SLIPPERS BLUE
—Joseph Nolan
I surrender,
Give in,
Concede,
To provide
Whatever you need,
If only you’ll agree
To paint my
White slippers blue.
No one would ever
Imagine
That it’s what I
Want you to do,
Since it’s so obscure,
But so much depends
On how a line ends,
If it rhymes
Or keeps its time,
If its images
Startle or blend
With its colors, waves and hues,
If it’s happy to ring
Or celebrates blues?
I have to confess
I don’t know what it means
It’s really just something
I saw in a dream:
You painting my white slippers blue!
IF YOU WERE ICE CREAM
—Joseph Nolan
If you were ice cream,
I might dip a little
Spoon in for a lick,
Lounging back
In a chair,
As if I never
Had a care,
Taking time
To taste the
Taste of you.
Then turn on the news,
To see how the world
Had eaten up
The weaker ones, today,
Like any other day,
Since genocide
Is hegemony’s bride
And we only have to watch
To hear the way
Vulnerable peoples
Are made to pass away,
As shown on the evening news.
THE HEALING PROCESS
—Joseph Nolan
The first, hurried layers
Of healing come quickly.
The later layers
Mount slowly
Over time,
To overlay the wounded spot
With coatings of gold and silver;
Lastly, comes the iron and steel,
The rust,
And overgrown clover,
To make it seem
That nothing was mean
In the way it hurt, before
Healing came over.
The overgrown spot,
Worried and hot,
Reminds you of
—What is not—
Once it is gone.
It’s a miracle
How simply,
Sad things can
Disappear!
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| Family Tree |
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| Nature |
__________________________
Today’s LittleNip(s):
WAY OUT THERE
—Caschwa
it is prophesized
in the big book of losers
—think what you want to—
* * *
TEACHERS*
—Caschwa
silence, patience, and
experience replace doubt
with enlightenment
*triggered by James Lee Jobe
___________________________
___________________________
—Medusa
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—Public Domain Illustration |
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