Slow Lane   Saturday, November 07, 2020

 






slow lane

it's 10:30,
the movie we want to see this week
starts at noon so we have
some time to kill

meanwhile,
I've had my breakfast, the multiple coffees
needed to set the world back to
its proper rotation,
and the Sunday morning pleasure
of both my local paper and The Times, slowly read...

Dee just out the door for a walk
and some window shopping,
and me, here, with this...
making me think, as writing a poem
always makes me think...

this time about how much pleasure there is
in these slow Sunday mornings
and how happy I am I not hung-over as so often
I used do be because of the way Sunday morning
always followed the self-abuse of Saturday night









All  of my poems for this post are from my eBook, Always to the Light, available at a very reasonable price wherever eBooks are sold.

Here they are.


Here and Now
Slow Lane
Herenow.7beats.com


Me

slow lane
an atheist's prayer
Old John's looking kind of worn these days
last week
never argue
red balloon


Chiyo-ni

haiku


Me

peas in our time
no days off
fat man dancing


Lucille Clifton

a visit to Gettysburg


Me

January 1, 2009
a lesson
tiny little girl drinks her juice
window shopping
attack of the 50-foot woman
deep summer

herenow.7beats.com










an atheist's prayer

send me to the fire
naked as the day I came

sear from me this 
corrupting flesh

release me into the sky,
pale smoke of me drifting
where the winds might blow,
letting me fall
on some rocky field
where I might become a part
of something new,
bits of me, and some day you,
and all creation that comes,
then goes, the cycle
of me and you and all the rest
repeated again
and again and again
unto the end

amen









Old John's looking kind of worn these days

at 82 he's looking
not a day over 70, but
that's a good 5 years older
than he looked a year ago

it might be the hat
or the relaxed fit jeans

old men
should not wear
relaxed fit jeans, makes
them look like they
forgot their asses at home
when they set out in the morning,
demonstrating strong perception
of two symptoms of aging in me

asslessness 
and memory loss









I wrote this six or so years ago, a history of the time.




last week

the lady says
the CIA lied to her
and people who claim intelligence say
they find that idea very hard to believe...

the Dungeon Keeper-Darth Master
former vice-president goes on TV to complain
that the new guys are messing up all the good work he did,
his former boss wisely cuts his brush and keeps his mouth shut

the bishops
want to boycott the president, suffering,
as he does,
the anti-Catholic vice of intelligence
and the anti-Christian arrogance of seeking to exercise it

a university in the great white state of Arizona
refuses to honor that same president
because he hasn't picked his quota of cotton yet

in the great armed state of Texas 
time runs out on legislation that would have allowed
every student at a state university
to come to school in the morning with guy in hand,
validation of the foresight of the writers
of the Texas Constitution, who, trusting politicians
even less than we do now, restricted their opportunities
for mischief to just 180 days every two years

state employees who must make sense
of these biannual sessions think half the 180 
would be time enough and even less would be better

such a week

and now a weekend to prepare for another one
just like









never argue

never argue with passionate people
who are large and muscular
with a network of scars on their knuckles

who have a black belt in Karate
and various other Asian schools of mayhem

who have a weapon at hand and know how
to use it

who know the password to you online bank
account

who are so drunk they are beyond
the sensation of pain

who were not as drunk as you were
at the last office party and have the photos
to prove it

who remember what you said about your wife
when you were in high school and about
to ask her for a date

these are hard-learned lessons I pass on to you

and I recommend them to you
highly









red balloon

little boy in a shopping cart
says to his mother as she pushes down the aisle

he's still my dad, right?
and I still love him, right?

my mind is a-crush with sad stories, 
none sadder than this, I think,
and I imagine pain radiating
from that cart,
across time, across generations,
the world's pain that is a red balloon
filling a little more, the world's pain
an angry balloon near to bursting
















Next, several randomly selected haiku by Chiyo-ni, from the collection, Chiyo-ni. Woman Haiku Master, published in 1998 by Tuttle Publishing.

Born in 1703, Chio-ni became familiar with poetry, calligraphy, and painting at a very early age as her family was in the scroll- making business and in the end became Japan's most celebrated female haiku poet. 

The book, with translation by Patricia Donegan and Yoshie Ishibashi, is the first book of a haiku poet published in English.




the moon's shadow
also pauses -
cherry-blossom dawn


wrapped around
this world's flower -
hazy moon


the shimmering haze
above
the wet stone


everything I pick up
is alive -
ebb tide


squatting
the frog observes
the clouds


Death Poems

clear water is cool
fireflies vanish -
there is nothing more

I also saw the moon
and so I say goodbye
to this world









peas in our time

dinner last night
at Grissini's'

Italian
penne pasta
with some kind of orangish
sauce,
tiny pieces of ham, mushrooms
& peas

&
the peas did it for me
since peas are my second favorite vegetable -
peas & corn being my favorite

&
someone mentioned that it was strange,
my liking peas so much, 
since no one was eating peas anymore

that's hardly a surprise to me
since the world slips into further decline
with every passing day









no days off

a cool
and sunny
Sunday morning,
time to take the family
out for a walk
before the chores of the day begin

a stop-off for coffee and fresh apple juice

I see them out front at an outside table,
mom and dad and three little girls
and their pup
who watches each coming and going,

ever alert -

no days off in the family protection 
business










fat man dancing

fat man
dancing, throwing
his arms to the 
cool
clear
sky -

the kind
of bright autumn day
when
that sort of thing
happens















This poem is by Lucille Clifton, from her book, good woman: poems and a memoir, 1969-1980. The book was published by BOA Editions Limited in 1987.

Born in New York, Clifton taught in numerous colleges and universities and achieved honors as a poet
and fiction writer including a Pulitzer Prize nomination, an Emmy Award, writing fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, Poet Laureate of the State of Maryland.




a visit to Gettysburg

I will 
touch stone
yes i will
teach white rock to answer
yes i will
walk in the wake
of the battle sir
while the hills
and the trees
and teh guns watch me
a touchstone
and i will rub
"where is my black blood
and black bone?"
and the grounds
and the graves
will throw off they clothes
and touch stone
for this touchstone










January 1, 2009

sun came up this morning -
same one as yesterday

went out to my car
backed
into the street

passed a pile of leaves
beside the driveway

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

drove to Jim's for coffee
and morning papers

very familiar,
like I'd been there before,
finished my coffee and 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









a lesson

would you like to learn
a lesson in the transience of things

try going home again to from whence you came

you will learn that special places
are not so special anymore

and neither are you









tiny little girl drinks her juice

little girl
sits,
waits for mom
to finish her morning phone call
to
friend
lover
spouse
hairdresser
 who knows

mysteries
and stories
abound in our every day world

tiny girl
drinks from her juice box,
straw never leaving her mouth,
eyes above the straw
like small blue diamonds,
blue ice
beneath bright blond curls.
survey the room,
eyes like a blue flame
flicker,
watching every thing,
every body

mysteries and stories
abound in here everyday world









window shopping

morning walk around the square,
notice the sign in the Gap store window,
40% off everything, it said

and I'm thinking,
40% off everything...
I ought to go in and buy
something

but remembering where I was,,
remembering the Gap store
doesn't sell anything that doesn't
make fat old men look even more ridiculous

than they, by nature, already are









A good movie from the fifties that was good, but could easily have been better.




attack of the 50-foot woman

enjoyed the movie,
and, being 14 years old,
the idea
of the scarily magical girls I knew
growing to 50-feet wasn't something
I could rule out

but the idea that their clothes
would grow with them
did not seem reasonable to me,
imagining, in my festering little mind,
how it would be such a much better, more realistic, movie
if they did not











deep summer

sunlight
cracks the window,
falls across the tile floor
in bright shards of deep summer

blue sky promises another day
of cinders













GOOD NEWS - the "comment"  function is working again after several years when it did not.

I'd love to have feedback from readers, about the blog, about the poems or pictures, favorite recipes from your old dearly departed Aunt Herminia, or anything else on your mind.



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, iBook store, Sony, 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



0 Comments:
























0 Comments:

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
June 2017
July 2017
August 2017
September 2017
October 2017
November 2017
December 2017
January 2018
February 2018
March 2018
April 2018
May 2018
June 2018
July 2018
August 2018
September 2018
October 2018
November 2018
December 2018
January 2019
February 2019
March 2019
April 2019
May 2019
June 2019
July 2019
August 2019
September 2019
October 2019
November 2019
December 2019
January 2020
February 2020
March 2020
April 2020
May 2020
June 2020
July 2020
August 2020
September 2020
October 2020
November 2020
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