Piping hot coffee warms
my innards
cozy
inside a moss green mug.
Juicy blueberries burst
pushing against
orange cantaloupe
swimming inside a
slippery pool
vying for my attention
tempting me sweetly
from the second shelf
next to a muscled Greek
packing extra protein
blinking
his vanilla honey code.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Kornelia with a K
Kornelia with a K
sat next to me last night on the flight
from Honolulu
but that’s wasn’t all
Kornelia liked to be called Konnie
I had to ask her twice, to be polite
did I hear it right
Konnie with a K?
yes she said, that was right
Kornelia was German
spoke with an accent
her family
originated in that land
where they made the kielbasa
but that’s not all
Kornelia loved living in Hawaii
but it was time for her to go
back to Germany
back to her family
back to school
she’s no fool
Kornelia will be back some day
to the land that paved the way
so send an email, drop me a line
keep in touch for you won’t find
many of us in economy class
so plant your behind, listen up
Cornelia is coming from the back of the plane
and Cornelia, dear sisters, is unrestrained.
sat next to me last night on the flight
from Honolulu
but that’s wasn’t all
Kornelia liked to be called Konnie
I had to ask her twice, to be polite
did I hear it right
Konnie with a K?
yes she said, that was right
Kornelia was German
spoke with an accent
her family
originated in that land
where they made the kielbasa
but that’s not all
Kornelia loved living in Hawaii
but it was time for her to go
back to Germany
back to her family
back to school
she’s no fool
Kornelia will be back some day
to the land that paved the way
so send an email, drop me a line
keep in touch for you won’t find
many of us in economy class
so plant your behind, listen up
Cornelia is coming from the back of the plane
and Cornelia, dear sisters, is unrestrained.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Bake, Bake a Cake!
An old German Nursery Rhyme in German and English with a Haiku at the bottom.
“Backe, backe kuchen!”
der Backer hat gerufen
“Wer will guten kuchen backen
Der muss haben sieben Sachen:
Butter und Saltz,
Zucker und Schmaltz,
Milch und Mehl,
Und Eier machen den Kuchen gel.”
“Bake, Bake a cake!”
the Baker called out.
“Whoever wants to make
a good cake,
He must have seven things:
Butter and Salt,
Sugar and Lard,
Milk and Flour,
and Eggs to make the cake gold.”
“Backe, backe kuchen!”
der Backer hat gerufen
“Wer will guten kuchen backen
Der muss haben sieben Sachen:
Butter und Saltz,
Zucker und Schmaltz,
Milch und Mehl,
Und Eier machen den Kuchen gel.”
“Bake, Bake a cake!”
the Baker called out.
“Whoever wants to make
a good cake,
He must have seven things:
Butter and Salt,
Sugar and Lard,
Milk and Flour,
and Eggs to make the cake gold.”
German rhyme calls back
Happy childhood memories
Bitte, Deutsch sprechen!
(kindly speak German)
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ready to Go
All packed
Breathe deeply
Check list
Determine objective
Early on
Freedom earned
Goals accomplished
Heady thoughts
Ignite memory
Jump high
Kick habits
Leave anchors
Manage choices
Need little
Open up
Pop pretense
Question everything
Resolve approval
Speak clearly
Tackle doubts
Use resources
Value judgment
Work hard
X-ray attitude
Yield for no one
Zealous stance.
Breathe deeply
Check list
Determine objective
Early on
Freedom earned
Goals accomplished
Heady thoughts
Ignite memory
Jump high
Kick habits
Leave anchors
Manage choices
Need little
Open up
Pop pretense
Question everything
Resolve approval
Speak clearly
Tackle doubts
Use resources
Value judgment
Work hard
X-ray attitude
Yield for no one
Zealous stance.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Wonder Bread and Klingons
We grew up in a quiet town surrounded by four lakes;
sometimes we'd go hiking and swimming at the fourth lake,
since it was a short walk from the railroad tracks,
halfway between my house
and my cousin Ralph’s
just before the town dump.
Mid summer
the urge to explore
strange new trails became strong,
Captain Kirk and
Mr. Spock were my heroes.
Ralph and I would
set our phazers on stun
and dare to encounter
alien life forms.
it was quiet
except for the odd branch
falling or when our shoes crunched
on a dry patch of leaves,
occasionally a snake would cross our path,
but Ralph would always arm us
with a cap gun
or a long stick with a sharp point
on one end to protect us.
The favorite part
would be lunch,
my chubby cousin
always made sure
that we had plenty to eat.
Being a skinny child,
I was more interested
in the possibility of
running into some
Romulans or Klingons
but when the food appeared
I would inhale it.
One favorite, when my Aunt ran out of bologna and cheese
was cherry koolaide accompanied by
wonder bread and white sugar sandwiches,
the grit of the white sugar
against our teeth put us into orbit
and I would lick the sugar
and let it dissolve
slowly on the tip of my tongue
after showing my
cousin,
who had an annoying habit
of teasing me
for no reason.
Sometimes I would daydream
of him falling down
and breaking a leg
and then I would have to save him
and he would be eternally grateful
and never tease me again, of course
I would have to let him lie there helpless and in pain
for a very long time before I came back,
and risk running into aliens and bears just to teach him a lesson.
sometimes we'd go hiking and swimming at the fourth lake,
since it was a short walk from the railroad tracks,
halfway between my house
and my cousin Ralph’s
just before the town dump.
Mid summer
the urge to explore
strange new trails became strong,
Captain Kirk and
Mr. Spock were my heroes.
Ralph and I would
set our phazers on stun
and dare to encounter
alien life forms.
it was quiet
except for the odd branch
falling or when our shoes crunched
on a dry patch of leaves,
occasionally a snake would cross our path,
but Ralph would always arm us
with a cap gun
or a long stick with a sharp point
on one end to protect us.
The favorite part
would be lunch,
my chubby cousin
always made sure
that we had plenty to eat.
Being a skinny child,
I was more interested
in the possibility of
running into some
Romulans or Klingons
but when the food appeared
I would inhale it.
One favorite, when my Aunt ran out of bologna and cheese
was cherry koolaide accompanied by
wonder bread and white sugar sandwiches,
the grit of the white sugar
against our teeth put us into orbit
and I would lick the sugar
and let it dissolve
slowly on the tip of my tongue
after showing my
cousin,
who had an annoying habit
of teasing me
for no reason.
Sometimes I would daydream
of him falling down
and breaking a leg
and then I would have to save him
and he would be eternally grateful
and never tease me again, of course
I would have to let him lie there helpless and in pain
for a very long time before I came back,
and risk running into aliens and bears just to teach him a lesson.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Rose
On a dusty August night in 1974 a rebel rode into the Town of Rosendale in Ulster County, New York on his 750 chopped Honda the chrome was polished and the sissy bar gleaming,
as he parked in front of The Well, where he met Billie Ghoulie, the unofficial mayor who
owned and bartended there. Billie was freakish in his top hat, black cape, and skin tight jeans
but had found his niche and calling. Billie also owned the Astoria, the only hotel in town. The Well had a good reputation and you could find well-known bands like Three Dog Night jamming to “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” on a Saturday night.
That first night he met and befriended a man named Dirty John and his wife Sue.
Dirty John’s Everything Shop housed both him and that Honda for the next few months
as he quickly made his way through the local town
produce, squeezing and partaking of all the fresh melons
passing on the Astoria—full up for the Labor Day holiday.
Of course, she didn’t know that yet, a good girl, Cheryl was barely out of high school.
Sue had whispered about him
the way he shined like a new copper penny.
He had called her pretty lady, that first night they met
fresh from a hot bath, he didn’t know
he had swept her away
smelling that way.
Not until much later did he recall
that he had stolen
the Rose out of Rosendale.
as he parked in front of The Well, where he met Billie Ghoulie, the unofficial mayor who
owned and bartended there. Billie was freakish in his top hat, black cape, and skin tight jeans
but had found his niche and calling. Billie also owned the Astoria, the only hotel in town. The Well had a good reputation and you could find well-known bands like Three Dog Night jamming to “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” on a Saturday night.
That first night he met and befriended a man named Dirty John and his wife Sue.
Dirty John’s Everything Shop housed both him and that Honda for the next few months
as he quickly made his way through the local town
produce, squeezing and partaking of all the fresh melons
passing on the Astoria—full up for the Labor Day holiday.
Of course, she didn’t know that yet, a good girl, Cheryl was barely out of high school.
Sue had whispered about him
the way he shined like a new copper penny.
He had called her pretty lady, that first night they met
fresh from a hot bath, he didn’t know
he had swept her away
smelling that way.
Not until much later did he recall
that he had stolen
the Rose out of Rosendale.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Self-Loathing
Bruxism
that's what they called it
grinding her teeth
at night while she slept
only one of the nasty habits
she'd picked up
the main reason
she still needed
to unlock those damned doors
Her subconscious
still directing
the plot
tangled
inside a sixties B movie
protecting her
by hiding
the truth
redirecting
her thoughts
leading her
towards the light
but the dark
still beckoned
leaving a slick stain
beneath the sheets
of her memory
like unwashed skin
exuding its distinct odor
she had to find the key
she had to let go of the ring.
that's what they called it
grinding her teeth
at night while she slept
only one of the nasty habits
she'd picked up
the main reason
she still needed
to unlock those damned doors
Her subconscious
still directing
the plot
tangled
inside a sixties B movie
protecting her
by hiding
the truth
redirecting
her thoughts
leading her
towards the light
but the dark
still beckoned
leaving a slick stain
beneath the sheets
of her memory
like unwashed skin
exuding its distinct odor
she had to find the key
she had to let go of the ring.
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