"id" May….or May Not

(This month will feature selected works from Sometime Grief-barks up the wrong tree)


After You’re Gone


  After your gone and left me crying

After you’re gone there’s no denying

You feel blue, you’ll feel sad

You’ll miss the dearest pal you ever had-

Bessie Smith w/ the Benny

                                                                                                                 Goodman Quartet 1935


On the cafe table

on this train this morning

is a book of Short Stories

with his art work on the cover

The one he always wanted you to write.

The stories are accounts

of a person’s life.

Each page turns like days

which were collected into years

as a lifetime passed.

Later this afternoon

you are taking his book home.

You will walk in the door

out on the end of the island

to spend time with a lonely woman

who has lost him at last.

She will be so very glad to see you

to have company and conversation

at the end of the day at sunset.

You’ll make her the drink

and crackers with cream cheese

just like he always did

at this time of day.

You’ll place his book in her hands

and perhaps take away

for just a few hours

that dreadful feeling

of loss

of abandonment.

Now you have become

the sound of a familiar voice

the sound of comfort

in the very empty room

he passed away in.

 The smile in the doorway

for his wife

your mother

but really

all the heartache in the world

is simply never




From the Edna Variations        5/2011



The Trophy Poet




So in the end

My memory

My love for you

All the time and years exchanged

Was relegated to the designation

I once had the Trophy Poet.



But wasn’t he fun

To parade around.

He was usual looking

He was married

He was passionate.

He was scandalous

And nuts about you

Just like in those

Romance novels

And for a while there

He tasted like lightening in a bottle.


And you knew he would do anything

In the world for you.


Except relinquish

His identity.


And so you’ll have to settle for

The memory of the Trophy Poet

Who drank too much

Danced your legs

Off till dawn

Sang in the shadows

Of your kitchen

Made you laugh

and come so hard.


Because you couldn’t tame him

House brake him


Guess he wasn’t

The house broken poet

After all


Just couldn’t get that SOB

To eat his peas and carrots


And like it.


How he loved you.

Like nobody else

ever did.





Don’t Ask


 Never ask when

 you know what all ready

Your thoughts may escape

but you won’t.

Words might fly off the handle

but not far enough to be heard

either distinctly or accurately.

Drama is never

in short supply

in this stage flat world.

But good scripts

are at a premium

while eager bad actors abound.


If you don’t know your own lines

any better than anyone else  ?

Don’t ask.



 Back Fence Neighbors



                  (for Minnie)

Saw my next store neighbor

in the adjacent yard over

 the fence between us on a

 May evening and of course

I said hi and she asked

how I was doing…..

 and I replied

O….Ok….I guess

and she said

you guess ?

Yeah I went

most people when asked that

either brag or complain

or worse yet ?


They explain.



Nothing to See Here

-Well I honestly didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. In the past there was always somebody to pay for what I wanted behind me.

-Actress Gene Tierney’s explanation when caught shoplifting in the film Whirlpool (B & W 1947)


No Yellow crime scene tape.

No chalk outline of a victim on the asphalt.

A crowd didn’t gather.

Perhaps someone wandered by on the way to

the store and might have glanced here

in this direction looking for something else.

Just curious.

That’s all.

But really ?

No one saw anything.

A bored cop took the complaint

from an anonymous source.

Turned out to be a false report anyway.

It was ascertained that truth was the only injured party.

But nobody could locate that

And it never showed up at the hearing anyway.

The only charges filed were dropped later

due to lack of any real evidence

Or indication of criminal intent.

So Enough.

Nothing to be seen here.

Not even Poetry was called in to question.

So just….

Move along.

Nothing to see here.


From Sometimes Grief – 2011/2012



You Must Fight it



  You must fight it

Like a champ

You must

You have to

No choice

Are you going let

Those soft bottomed

Ham and Egg-er stiffs

Beat you ?


You’re swinging at specters now

Realizing you are really alone

Here in this ring.

Your opponent

Your sparring partner

Bolted long ago

They can’t take it

Take you

And they come to

Know that after awhile.

They beat you senseless

Silly, bloody, soundly

You go down


And again

And then

Wobble up

On a shaky knee

Stand back up.

To face them with four eyes.

Few have the guts

Or stamina to

Stand toe to toe

With either

What can you take

And dish back out.

So swing Vince

Swing away


Pepper their ass

To distraction

With your perpetual poetry

You are as Monk

Once said



Round house them

With your madness

Knocking them

Back on their heels.

You go 18 rounds.

You always

Went the distance.

Anybody who ever

Knocked you out

Was by a split decision

That was fixed by judges

Who wanted to forget

Your name.

Just remember

They all end up

Kissing the canvas

Sooner or later

And you’re no


But the fight in you ?

That just doesn’t go away.

So don’t

Ever take off

Those gloves



Cut them off you.

                                                                                                           Sometimes Grief -2011-2012



The Bank of Infinity


In just one second

the moment rolled

over on the next

tried in truth

to skip it

but ended up

stepping on it instead

threw it under the

bus of time and snarled,

“you know there are plenty more

where you came from.”


So it would appear that the clock

is durations ego after all



scribbling checks

against the assets

of the 1st Nation Bank of Infinity.




and Pain

had all been writing Rubber Eden checks

concluded their business

in the lobby and head down to the bar.


Boredom bought the first round

and looked around checking his watch

and indicated to just keep them coming


Boredom called Silence by name

as it walked in the door remarking,

I just don’t know what I going to do

with these other two.”


Silence shrugged wordlessly.

It always did just that.


Boredom approved

and set to murdering the seconds

like stepping on Ants.



Pain spoke up,

“you think that hurts them?”


Boredom yawned

“Give me another hour to think about that”


Intoxication quickly added

“Yeah….by then we should know something.”


That of course

was the problem

with boredom

preferring to sweat tomorrow

or stew over yesterday

rather than do anything

in the Terrible Now.


Intoxication started laughing

sending a snide barb

You just can’t think past yourself”


Boredom rechecked his watch shooting back

“Yup…..you’re right on time.”



as Intoxication

might have been

The laughter continued

in the face of Boredom’s

obsession with his watch.



looked down the length

of the bar to the swirl of

orange, violet, red, blue

shadows in the

bottles and mirrors

reflected other patrons.


Seduction shot him a look

Delusion took note

sent another round over

Disappointment smirked

Bitter elbowed the ribs

of Smug and grinned.


“You got to know where

all this headed,”

shrugged the Bartender

cutting the lemons and limes

while blood tinted water gushed

into a sink filled with sanitizer.


It was only a matter

of time here

with all of them.


Boredom atrophied the senses

Intoxication insisted

on blowing his to smithereens.


Pain watched


Pain waited in the wings.

There was all the time

in the Bank of Infinity

to spread around here.


All sure things

had expiration dates.


And who knew

whose default that was ?


But they all came to Pain.

Sooner or later.


You could count on that.

Take it to the Bank

as the next moment

rolled over on the……


Sometimes Grief 2011-12


Just a Matter of Time


On a Friday Spring afternoon

just before suppertime

I’m sitting out in the Garage

at workbench drinking a cold

bottle of tall neck life with

chucks of ice stuck to it

like barely barnacles

smoking camels

and eating fresh crispy

little horn of plenty corn chips

looking over at a pile

of mute televisions

stacked in the corner

like dead eyes


that this moment

is pretty damn near perfect



all the sure thing suffering

and certain death looming

ahead for everybody

I know and love

including myself

So in the meantime

I mow the law

black bag leaves from last Fall

with a missing teeth rake

trim a few branches

and gradually


and give in

to the reality

at last

that I will do

any goddamn thing

I want to

And think I can get away with

anytime I get that chance

before it all

does it to me.


                                                                                         Sometime Grief 2011-2011


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