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POLISH
Mother made a point of remindingme to polish my shoes, she saiduntidy shoes are the markof a poor man, one to be avoided. I noticed she never wore shoesthat needed polish, never had waxand brush in hand, and when her shoesshowed wear they were replaced. I learned early not to talk backto her, the penalty…
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SUNDAY MORNING
Every Sunday morning my parents,usually my father at mother’s directionwould drive me the four blocksto attend Sunday school. I could easily have walked, a longblock and a half by cutting through yards,but they were afraid of I haveabsolutely no idea what. My friends that weren’t there with mewere probably in church soit wasn’t like I…
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SIEGAN’S COST OF RICE
How long have you wanderedalways searching for the oneanswer, the hidden truththat, when revealed to you,will show you enlightenment? Where have you searchedfor this one truth, onethat will collapse the past,present and future intoa single moment of purepresence which you can graspand carry with you through life? Stop and ask the infantstrapped to his mother’s…
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LIONEL HAMPTON AND THE GOLDEN MEN OF JAZZ
Blue Note, pardonour constructionblack paintedplasterboarda hangingair conditioning duct. Grady Tatesneering at the skinsgrowling at a high hathands shiftingdeftly reaching inpicking a beatand sliding itover the crowd. Jimmy Woodeblind to the lightsslides his fingersover stringsand talks to the bassresting on his shoulder.It sings backbegging , pleadingdemanding as his headsways with an inner vision. Junior Mancesways slowly…
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ANCESTRY
Children have an innate senseof their ancestry.I was a child of the cityit’s streets my paths, alwaysunder the watchful eyeof my warden – mother. Dirt was to be avoidedat all possible cost,so I never dug my handsinto the fertile soil of myvillage in the heart of Lithuania,or tasted the readying harvestthat dirt would remember. I…
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TREASURES
I keep in my pocketall the treasures of my family,all of the keepsakes from my mother,and those from my fathergiven to me when they died. I would share them with you,but they are highly personaland would not mean much to onewho never knew my parentsor my step brother, the one with whom I have not…
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ORIGIN
I am told that I should writeabout my origins, that is the stuffthat long poems are made of, orrather the soil from which they bloom. I have written about my birth motherand visited her grave in West Virginiaseen those of my grandparents, meta cousin, I’ve written all of that. So its time to write aboutmy…
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KP
My younger step-siblings had it easyonce our father made seriouis money,for then my mother decided we neededa live in housekeeper, one whocould cook, clean and take careof all those things domestic. So my siblings had only to puttheir dishes near the sink,their laundry down the chute,and keep their rooms marginally tidy. I had missed most…
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ENFORCED SILENCE
The city is a ghost town,the ghosts peering warilyfrom windows they nowwish they had takenthe time to have cleaned,and now there is timeand no one to clean. They fear the silence,cannot fathom the smellof the air, somethingfaintly like a cool morningfrom their suburban childhoods. They have found pots,pans cast aside or usedfor any purpose otherthan…
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A PERFECT STILLNESS
You lie there, perfectly still,the morning breeze slides awayleaving the sun to stare down,and the birds fall into silence. I gently touch the stone, feelyour cheek beneath my finger,see your face, the college yearbookphoto all that I have of you. I speak silently to you, tellingof my sixty-seven years, of yourgrandsons and great grandchildrenand I…
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an old writer and his words 