Posts for June 22, 2020 (page 7)

My class project was due
tomorrow
i forgot to tell my mom about it.
We were supposed to bring in
A Collection.
i didn’t have any collections
Mom thought up a Seed
Collection.
we gathered seeds from places
One does not think
to find seeds
we started in the spice 
cabinet
the colors earthy
the smells delightful
the shapes odd and unexpected 
The pantry shelf surprised
my 6 year old self
rice and beans and
peas and oats
i don’t think we even got to
the garden shed
for flower seeds
we found all we needed
and glued them
on poster board
to make a pretty pattern
and wrote the names
underneath

when i got off the bus
and ran home downhill 
my blue ribbon
fluttered in the wind

Four ballerinas
behind a fiery stage
stretching
tightened
tense
deft in the orange glow—
the graceful denouement
before the next century’s gift:
trenches, tanks, and mud.

change the times

the current time

is created empty, unless

handled specially

change the standard.

Mandatory change

access time
and use it

instead of
dereference

change
reference

—
Found poem (erasure) from Linux Man Page
Full text at https://man7.org/linux/man-pages/man1/touch.1.html
Written by Paul Rubin, Arnold Robbins, Jim Kingdon, David MacKenzie, and Randy Smith.
 

It felt like fall.
     Blue sky, light wind, no clouds
               Sitting back to back under a tree
               
               With someone

Who wants
     nothing from you
               But to be there.

I needed more time to conjure your memory
since you’ve been gone 30 years now. 
We teased how you pronounced certainly.

Daddy’s girl was spoiled by the purple 
swirling dress sprinkled with diamond raindrops 
and umbrellas that mama said cost too much
but you didn’t care for my 6 th.

Thanks to you we always had a family dog.
Fritz was the schnauzer rescued from
the crowded pet shop after Christmas 
when no one claimed him. You said
he was mine.

Library visits every two weeks
were a treat with ice cream
after. Both of us with a bedside stack.

Never treated us girls different towards
career choice, you tried to make me
an engineer like you but math was
my downfall. We argued over liberal
arts and as a joke Rick and Dave
scattered some of your ashes at the
College of Liberal Arts  during 
halftime at your beloved Penn State
alma mater football game and laid
the rest at the College of Engineering.

I was the middle of five kids but you
always found 1:1 time. I cherish that
time but also enjoyed big family 
get togethers that followed us into 
adulthood with the grandkids.

You had a vision to bring our
scattered  family of four states together 
with the timeshares in Gatlinburg
back in ’85.

Since Mom passed in 2003, I have
kept that dream alive by paying 
the maintenance fees and getting 
my family there about every 
other year.

Your legacy lives on…

Beethoven dumped ice water
over his head when composing, his living room
covered with asphalt to keep
water from seeping through. Deaf, hopeless
& bedridden he left the world shaking
his dying blue fist at a thunderstorm while invoking
Augustus: Applaud my friends the comedy
is over.  Stravinsky stood

on his head for 15 minutes every morning
because it rests the head & clears
the brain. Gertrude Stein
preferred writing with a cow
in plain sight. With Alice, she’d recklessly
drive country roads in their early model Ford
until she sensed the just right spot,
where she mused on a stool —  if the cow didn’t fit
the mood, they’d drive to the next cow. After
The Waste Land, Eliot wore pale green
face powder. No one knows why he did it,
but his biographer suggests it made him
look the poet rather than bank official.

In college, I swooned to Satie’s hypnotic
Gymnopédie No. 1. On snowy days I’d
wrap myself in a violet afghan, part the long
linen drapes & behold the delicate
falling. For 27 years, it’s said, not one soul
entered Satie’s shabby room. After he died
from cirrhosis they found 100 umbrellas,
84 handkerchiefs & piles of letters stuffed
into his concert, grand, most written
to himself & then there were those wacky
ditties like Authentic Flabby Preludes
(For a Dog) & Desiccated Embryos.

When he was 21 there was Suzanne,
his one great love. Satie bestowed her
with necklaces made of sausages,
while she made her own corsages
from carrots.  In oil, they painted portraits
of each other, sailed toy boats
on a duck pond together. After six months
she left & for 30 years he showered her
with letters of abiding love.  No one knows why
he donned grey velvet suits exclusively
& ate only white food — coconut, rice
& shredded bones. I have a good appetite,
but never talk when eating for fear
of strangling myself, he exclaimed. We should
have a music of our own — if possible —
without any sauerkraut.

running from the soft, the scared, the lonely.

these inhibitions turned into these lines so these
hard men and women could—so

you might understand.

sweetness i feel soft and scared, and
nothing but trouble to you.

i crane my neck, feel the soft spot, the scale!—
pulled back from my dragon’s side,

and jump! a lone arrow from the heart of
you brings my demise.

then, in danger of shedding all my pride, and
crushed, because he’s not enough

when you say you love my mind,
i hide, openly, in between these lines.

running running from the soft, the scared, the lonely.

Something to wave
in other people’s faces? Or
is it more of a flag
to pack away
only for yourself?

Could it be what your heart
was made to do?
Or what you are bound to dread?

Do you select something
others will be proud of?
Something to bring home
the bacon, or a cause for
extra stress?

How many chances
do you get? And how long
until you know if you were right?

Pine Mountain Cemetery XXII
        Romeo and Juliet

Nodding over his Shakespeare, straying
Eyes glazed, earflaps secure so nothing
Slipped in, the boy missed the warning.

It was right there two kids flaunting rules
And tradition, reaching for sweet fruit not
Yet ripe in spite of all they knew was right.

Marrying young was almost the rule where
This one grew and played and finally strayed
Into territory not open for one white like him.

Oh, she was pretty, not doubt of that, amber
Skin, soft brown eyes, smile from there to here.
Music seemed as much apart of her as air.

Fell head over heels he did and only a kid
She did too, a bit older, but not enough. Families
Shocked, hurt, screamed at both. The day

Of brown and white entwined forbidden by every
Side. If they had read their Shakespeare and
Taken it to heart this lot would hold no stone.

Yet, not demands, an accident ends the dream,
Closed windows, cold night, warm car and sleep,
The long unintended sleep of mere children.

We don’t tell it much these days, story best
Untold in our modern climes, but strange
To say Shakespeare still holds so little sway.

The slightest difference, feud, or tongue
Splits apart not just families but kingdoms
Too. Five hundred years may change hearts

And minds of man. We will wait and see
Under stones much like these with stories 
Told of us who made the same mistakes.