Welcoming the Cool Winds of Autumn   Wednesday, September 21, 2016



 
More completely random photos this week, as close to blindly pulling poems out of a hat as I can get. I've decided it's a lot more fun that way.

Poems are all me this week, new poems, plus old stuff  from 2007, 2008 and 2009.


All Me this week


From last week
the voice of hard times  coming

From 2008
reply to  a critic who takes himself and me much to seriously

From 2007
first robin of spring, takes 1 and 2

From 2009
a man of faith

From last week 
like Salome

From 2008
bits and pieces from a Tuesday morning that  seems like a Monday

From 2007
flashing

From 2009
pitty-pat

From last week 
how I tell the difference

From 2008
an unwelcome Samaritan

From 2007 
green  pastures

From 2009 
scant skits

From last week 
shed of her  veils

From 2008
the shortest poem

From 2007 
it bleeds, it leads

From 2009
relief

From last week
the man who lives under the bridge

From 2008
girl
From 2007
license to carry

From 2009 
January 1,  2009

From last week
watching worker rehab a building I was  hoping they would  tear down












First for the week.











the voice of hard times coming

pretty young woman
with a hard voice, hard
as an asbestos shingle, talking
to an older man with a softer voice,
apparently manager/owner  of a movie theater
talking about the movie business, talking
about good times in the business...

she, the voice of hard times 
coming,
like Marley's ghost,
 a coffee shop
latte-
drinking
reminder
of the  dangers of great
expectations...












From 2008











reply to  a critic  who takes himself  and me much to  seriously

look
there are no  babies
being fed here,
no tyrants being  brought
to  heel,
no visit
to  the housebound,
no  rehab
of housing for the homeless,
no justice
for the poor and downtrodden

there
are no  cures here
for diseases
that maim and kill

no
philosophy
to light the way
to  personal  fulfillment,
no  formula
for turning water to wine,
lead to gold,
scrap  bobby pins,
electric toasters,
and old video games
to a clean, inexhaustible
energy source

there is none of that
serious stuff

it's
just  a damn poem,
an old man's game,
an alternative to daytime TV,
a reminder that there is still life
in this husk and thought
in this dying,
shrinking
brain

if you read it
or
if you don't
will  have no  impact
on the reality
in our struggling
needy world

I can live with that












An old piece  from 2007.












first robin of spring, takes 1 and  2

bad  weathermen version

on the
porch  today
chill  winds
blow
discouraging
extended stay

good  weatherman version

on the porch
sun
warms
sleeping dogs
encouraging
extended stay












 From 2009













a man of faith

rain
around here
is like the
Free Beer  Tomorrow"
advertised
at the corner pub  -
always
in the offing
'two or  three day hence
but never poured

well
today is the day
it might be tomorrow

it is cold
and overcast
with a  little bit of drizzle
that promises
to become rain any instance

I brought
my umbrella
for I am well-known 
as a man of faith

in beer
always
and
sometimes
in rain












Here's another new piece from last week.










like Salome

thin clouds
fast-
moving
over a full, silver-bright moon

like Salome
with her seven
diaphanous
veils
dancing












From 2008. I was working at the time scoring state assessment tests. Often  a very boring job, but leaving time for better things













bits  and  pieces  from a  Tuesday morning that seems like a Monday

1
green lichen
on bare
branches
over brown
grass gathered
in the  cold  forest
like boy scouts
at camp

2
sunshine
on a foggy day

seen from  my
high place
tree tops
float
in cotton  swirl

3
the hive
buzzes
with low voices
all eyes tight
on computer screens

every now and then
loud laughter
as something seen
in a child's writing
wakes
the room

4
a thermos top
pops
and brown-coffee
eyes
open like
Pavlov's
dog

5
green winter  rain
anticipates  spring

too soon

6
work done
wandering halls
waiting
for approval

will  write a  poem

soon












2007 again.











flashing

watch her walk

with each step
the rear of her foot rises
as weight shifts from her heel to her toe
while her shoe lags behind
and between the shoe
and the bottom of her foot
the soft pale flesh
of her instep flashes
like a lover's wink
across a crowded room,
this most beautiful, unseen place,
inviting a caress,
a kiss,
flashing like a secret
across a  crowded room











From  2009,  a very dry year.














pitty-pat

I was hoping
for a thunder-pounder

instead
it's just
a  little putty-pat
pitty
pat

pitty
pat

pitty

pat

but
hell
you can  still get wet
if you  stand out in it

just
takes a little  longer












Again, from last week












how I tell the difference

entranced
nightly
by the dark and sparkling sky,
remaining
nonetheless
astronomically ignorant

knowing
the difference
between a helicopter and a star
only because
a helicopter goes
whappada whappada whappada
while stars as  a rule
are silent and
still









From 2008. For a period of about a year, I was hanging out at coffeehouse downtown, above the river. I loved the location. If I go tired of sitting I could get up,  go down to the river and walk awhile. There was a homeless woman who was usually hanging around outside early in the morning, dressed always in autumn golds and browns and reds, all looking hand made. A black woman,  at one time  a beauty it was still plain to  see. I said good morning every morning, but was never acknowledged.









an unwelcome  Samaritan

the autumn lady
is not well -
she bends over
by the black  iron rail
that looks down
on the river
and coughs and coughs,
her  blanket wound
tight around her

she does not seek help,
does not  acknowledge me,
will not accept help
and I am tempted to the arrogance
of the unwelcomed Samaritan

but,
so little
this woman has,
the dignity of choice
as to how to live or  die
all she has  left

her
tragedy,
if such it turns out to be,
is hers alone,
a final possession
I will not choose to take  from her

(is this
my thought and inaction
an allowance
or is it avoidance -

a question
that  pricks softly
at my conscience)












 And another from 2007.













green pastures

cat wants
out

dog wants
in

rooster wants
the day
off
on
Thursdays

isn't  anyone
ever
satisfied?











From 2009












scant  skits

the back door
is the front door
to those
who dawdle in
kitchens

~~

politics,
the art
of what can I
get  away with
today

~~

superheroes
never have to take
a whiz -  part
of what makes them
super

~~

the short man
has a tall hat, which
are you going to believe

~~

the girls all look better
at closing  time -
like silly ideas
all seem wiser  in  a

~~

that woman
has crooked toes
pointing in all different
directions
no matter which way
she goes

~~

the girl  with the  sly smile
crosses
her tanned legs
repeatedly - she
knows I am
watching and
likes it

glad
to  be of service,
I think

~~

three old men
read  their newspapers

hah,
they think,
could'a told'em  so

~~

sex
can light up
both night and day

as I remember
it

~~

enough of this

time to write a real
poem...

tomorrow
panic













Still in last week.











shed of her veils

shed of her  veils,
Salome
flies west, bare and beautiful
in the high, bluing
sky

she will return
in the next dark,
diminished
and slightly misshapen
as the effects of the month's aging
begin to take their toll..

but she will be back
when the new month comes,
pale and beautiful again, veiled
or bare  again -

it is for us to wait, as is always
the way of
life...












From 2008












the shortest  poem

the shortest
poem
is

the sigh
in a lover's
farewell












Old, 2007.













it bleeds, it leads

smiley faced
anchors
with puddin' pop
eyes
love the blood
of it all
because
without
those crimson
streams
and grieving
screams
who would watch
and in the further
recesses
of their minds they know
if nobody watched
they would disappear
in little white puffs
of frosty-perm
hair













From 2009. My charity work is  important to me.












relief

cut all  my hair off yesterday

do  it
twice a year

whether
needed or not

January
and July

it's important
to  be regular with such

hygiene
issues...

July's
not so bad

but
January

well
let's just say

my neck  feels
refrigerated..

but
it's for a good cause

I ship all the clippings
to the society for relief

for bald-headed men in
Bangladesh

world peace
will surely ensue













An observational from last  week.











the man who lives under the bridge

I  see him there
every time
I
pass,
morning, evening, in-
between times,
black man
with his pack beside him,
a solitary man
lying  on the inclined bank
between I-35 and the
fly-over exit to I-10

where
he goes when
he goes if
he goes, that's  the question
I ask myself
whenever I pass

I wonder at the sight
of  a  man who seems to never
move, a man who seems to  have
nowhere to be but where he is,
a  man who has found
his place

and I think of the beggar-monks
of ancient China, some
who constantly moved, constantly
on the ramble, begging cup
in hand, and others
who found the spot  prepared
for them by their life's Tao
and never left 
it

I  think I would be doomed to be
the rambling 
monk, always seeking my own
way in the universe,  
committed to the search,
still expecting to never find
the place that is
my own












From 2008, a memory of the coffeehouse by the river.










girl

dancing
across the stage
as  she  delivers
my order of decaf
and a scone
then back again
still dancing
still in the music

the abandon
of dance
and rhythm
and music

and youth

elixir
bringing
a moment of light
to an  old soul
heavy
with the news of the  day













An issue in 2007, settled today by the usual suspects.










license to carry

license
to carry
that's  what  we have
where I live

that means your
normal
everyday
psychotic
whack'o
can carry a gun
as long as they keep  it
concealed
and as long as they can pass
a test developed by the NRA
to  insure that every
normal
everyday
psychotic
whack'o
who wants to carry
his own
personal
six shooter
can
by god!
buy one at the weapons
and murder  store
of their choice

and I  think that's
plain stupid
since it seems clear to  me
that if you're going to let your
normal
everyday
psychotic
whack'o
carry a gun
you don't want that sucker
concealed

instead
you oughta wanna be
fuckin' sure  they're required
to carry it
right out in  plain  sight
maybe with a big  arrow
pointing right at  it
with flashing neon lights saying
"whack'o whack'o whack'o"
so us regular-people can
get out of  the way
when we  see  them
moseying murderously

in our
direction













From 2009. I gave up a long time  ago believing anything changes just because the calendar changes.












January 1, 2009

sun came up this
morning -
same one as
yesterday

went out to my car

backed  into the street

passed the pile of leaves
beside the driveway

same car
as last year,
same street
same leaves blown
into our yard
by the neighbor's yardman

drove at Jim's
for coffee
and morning paper

very familiar,
like I'd been  here
before

finished my coffee

drove  home

almost  ran over a
squirrel
that ran across the street
and up  a tree

same tree

different squirrel

change..

the best part of a
new
year












Here's  the last  from last week













watching workers rehab a building I was  hoping they would tear  down

ugly

whitewash  will not
help

just a  different color
ugly








As usual, everything belongs to who made it. You're welcome to use my stuff, just, if you do, give appropriate credit to "Here and Now" and to me



Also as usual, I am Allen Itz owner and producer of this blog, and a not so diligent seller of books, specifically these and specifically here:



Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBookstore, Sony eBookstore, Copia, Garner's, Baker & Taylor, eSentral, Scribd, Oyster, Flipkart, Ciando and Kobo (and, through Kobo,  brick and mortar retail booksellers all across America and abroad








Poetry

New Days & New Ways


Places and Spaces
 




Always to the Light




Goes Around Comes Around



Pushing Clouds Against the Wind





And, for those print-bent, available at Amazon and select coffeehouses in San Antonio




Seven Beats a Second





Fiction


Sonyador - The Dreamer




                                                            

  Peace in Our Time
 


2 Comments:
at 10:00 AM Blogger davideberhardt said...

hope the #'s correspond going down- on photos i like 1 "Meditation, 8 surprise, 12 Eliot Porter colors, 14 best, also 18 (solitary trees) , 21 good composition

Did you ever look at any Eliot Porter?

How's Tx gonna vote? any Hilary fans at all? Not even the femaliens?

at 1:40 PM Blogger Here and Now said...

some polls show trump ahead with likely voters by a couple of points, clinton ahead with registered voters. clinton at least coming close would be a revolution. a lot's going to depend on turnout

Post a Comment



Archives
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
September 2011
October 2011
November 2011
December 2011
January 2012
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
September 2012
October 2012
November 2012
December 2012
January 2013
February 2013
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
November 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
April 2014
May 2014
June 2014
July 2014
August 2014
September 2014
October 2014
November 2014
December 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
September 2015
October 2015
November 2015
December 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
June 2016
July 2016
August 2016
September 2016
October 2016
November 2016
December 2016
January 2017
February 2017
March 2017
April 2017
May 2017
Links
Loch Raven Review
Mindfire Renewed
Holy Groove Records
Tryst
Poems Niederngasse
BlazeVOX
Eclectica
Michaela Gabriel's In.Visible.Ink
zafusy
The Blogging Poet
Poetsarus.Com
Wild Poetry Forum
Blueline Poetry Forum
The Writer's Block Poetry Forum
The Word Distillery Poetry Forum
Gary Blankenship
The Hiss Quarterly
Thunder In Winter, Snow In Summer
Lawrence Trujillo Artsite
Arlene Ang
The Comstock Review
Thane Zander
Pitching Pennies
The Rain In My Purse
Dave Ruslander
S. Thomas Summers
Clif Keller's Music
Vienna's Gallery
Shawn Nacona Stroud
Beau Blue
Downside up
Dan Cuddy
Christine Kiefer
David Anthony
Layman Lyric
Scott Acheson
Christopher George
James Lineberger
Joanna M. Weston
Desert Moon Review
Octopus Beak Inc.
Wrong Planet...Right Universe
Poetry and Poets in Rags
Teresa White
Camroc Press Review
The Angry Poet