A Couple More Poems (it's been awhile...)

DRIVING LESSON

so i was riding
along with my cousin
to a party
and we were talking about
when we were kids

how our family cookouts and
get-togethers were so much fun
how our mothers and aunts made the best food
serving fresh lemonade and sandwiches
how our fathers and uncles told the best jokes
and drank cold Hamms beer from
aluminum pop-top cans
with a baseball game
crackling out of a transistor radio
on the picnic table

and I laughed about Uncle so-and-so
and his chain-smoking Marlboro cigarettes
when she said
No - they were Salems and
the reason I remember that
she said
is because one time
he asked me to run to his car and
grab another pack for him
and so I did
but I couldn't find those cigarettes

and I searched and searched
and checked the glove compartment
and under the seat
but didn't see them anywhere and
when I gave up looking
I turned around and there he was

he tried to kiss me

but i slipped away
and ran off as he was trying to say
he was sorry and please don't tell

about 30 seconds passed
as we drove along
before I could think of anything to say

so i said
are you SURE they weren't Marlboros ?


HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOE R.

at that suburban bar you don't want to park in the parking lot
because the suburban cops watch over it and
pull over the patrons sometimes so it's best to
park a couple blocks away in the neighborhood
and that's what I did tonight before walking into the
birthday party of Joe R. and when you walk into
that suburban bar where Joe R. is throwing a party
you are walking into a family celebration and
he wraps you up in a big hug and then walks you around to
the rest of the group and brother, you are in
in like a capo to the Corleones

where tonight Emily was waiting the tables
tall and lean in her hip eyeglasses
that frame her lovely face perfectly as she
rounds the tables picking up emptys and
replacing the ashtrays with the kind of attitude
you wish every waitress had but truth be told
there's no one like Emily and you are
just happy with that

and the party carries on as Lefty the manager
tells Joe R. the next 3 shots are on him and
Joe R. says "I need a hug, then !" and Lefty says
"No thanks" but Joe R. insists "I'm Italian - don't deny me!"
and he walks behind the bar and grabs Lefty who
complies and then says "Get your dago ass back where it belongs!"
and we all laugh and raise our glasses
to the birthday boy and the manager who loves him
and to ourselves who are lucky enough to
be invited to such a party and
smart enough to park a couple blocks away
so the cops have no chance of ruining everything.

Change For The Worse

OK - a few days ago I thought a change of template would be in order. You know, maybe the black background was a little "heavy" ( not to mention difficult to read ) and perhaps a different "feel" would be something to inspire myself to a brand new start, after being idle for so long. Ha ! It turns out you cannot simply switch templates without creating a whole new blog. Or at least I couldn't figure out how to do it. And the harder I tried to figure it out, the more convinced I became that computers were invented just to piss me off. And, of course, I became more convinced that the original template was just fine. I made just a couple posts on that failed-experiment-of-a-blog before deleting it altogether. (Chris - it was nice of you to comment just the same ). I'm not that adaptable to change, I guess. You know, there's a reason I have 9-year old shirts I still wear and have my cupboard stacked with basically the same dishware since I moved into this apartment in 1995. Fuck it. I'm a dinosaur/poet/blogger and someday my fossil record will verify that fact. Onward and into the future.........

Avant-garde Jazz, American Idol, and The Form of No-Form

Just returned from a Tuesday night at Hotti Biscotti where the music is free-form or avant-garde jazz - or simply "improvised music". There is quite an art to experiencing this type of music and it took me a little while to get a grip on it. I used to think that this type of music was self-indulgent and intended for the enjoyment of the players rather than the listeners. Not true. Consider this : In "conventional music" of any style, the musicians play for the audience and basically go through established forms and routines. No matter how brilliant a particular soloist is, he is always backed by the familiar patterns of that genre. Consequently, not a whole lot is required of the audience, because they can sit there and evaluate the music on comfortable, well-known terms. However, in improvised music, everything is brand new - especially to the musicians themselves. So, the audience must get involved and follow closely. Otherwise it is just noise. As listeners, we have to organize sound into patterns - however loose and vague. In regular music, most of this is done for us. But in avant/free-form/improv/blow-your-mind music YOU HAVE TO PARTICIPATE !

Another thing about listening to this music is that you realize there are very few fundamentals to any kind of music in the first place. There is tonality and rhythm. These two units are about all there is to The Form Of Music. In Zen Buddhism, there is a concept called "the form of no-form" and I am always reminded of this philosophical insight when listening to challenging and bold music. All is in the elements and when you scrutinize it closely, there is no form, but "no-form".

Which, improbably leads me to American Idol. No, I'm not going to trash that show. I merely want to point out a humorous link between one of the smallest audiences possible (like improv-jazz) and one of the largest in the world (American Idol). On tomorrow night's show (2/21/07), America and the world will hear a young woman named Leslie Hunt. She is the daughter of Steve Hunt - a Tuesday night regular behind the drum-kit at HB. Yes, the musical torch has been passed from father to daughter and Leslie will attempt to catch the attention of a has-been studio bassist, a smarmy British guy and a chick who's either really crazy, or really smart. Or perhaps, my idea of a perfect woman. No idea what song Leslie will sing, but here's hoping she knocks it out of the park.

Anyway - we wish her well and have our TiVo's set on STUN.

A Difficult Return

OK - I don't know what the hell Blogger is thinking with this "new and improved" version with Google getting involved. I could not for the life of me sign in here, until I signed in on a different blog (on this same site) and THEN came back here and signed in to SSP. I fail to see the logic in this, but what the hell - I'm an artist, not an engineer.

Been a long time, I know. Since November, actually.

A brief re-cap:

October to December - Back trouble that wouldn't go away. Like Vicodin-level back pain. Thank you Doctor for the generous re-fill. It was needed. Much better now. Pain-free and drug-free also.

Then came the holidays and I didn't even think of posting. After that, a nice cold/sinus infection that laid me out for a couple of weeks. Finally over that, too.

Throughout this time period, I considered the fate of SSP. Should I just abandon it ? Or should I launch a second blog that will feature my poetry only, and maintain SSP for other writers and things that I want people to notice. In the end, this seemed like too much work. I will stay with SSP in it's current format. Sometimes I will share a poem, sometimes I will share a link to something cool/weird/idiotic, etc.. Other times I will let loose with a commentary that will leave the real world entirely unaffected but will make me feel better anyway.

And so you have it. Nearly three months off and nothing has changed. Such is life, sometimes.

Two really nice things have happened to me personally, though.

ONE - The baseball team that I have followed and cheered for and fretted over and worried about and prayed for all these years - from childhood to today - finally went all the way into October and WON IT ALL ! And they did it by working through the injuries. They did it despite everyone saying they couldn't. They did it as underdogs. They beat probably the best team in baseball in 2006 (The Detroit Tigers) and it only took them FIVE GAMES. I love my St. Louis Cardinals and I love the example they set by never giving up and by pulling together as a team. The Cardinals ROCK.

TWO - I have discovered one of the best poets I have ever read - an American voice, authentic and real. She is from Kentucky and the images she creates are stunning. I will devote an entire entry just to her, complete with a link to her site. She is remarkable - trust me.

Time to go now. See you sooner than three months from now - I promise.

Clouds and Collisions

"We owe our existence to random collisions in some long-forgotten cloud". - Dr. Carl Sagan

Good News / Bad News About Hannity & Colmes

Well, a few minutes ago I was watching TV and decided to check in with that beloved American propoganda machine FNC (Fox News Channel, or Fucking Nut Cases as I lovingly refer to them). The program was "Hannity & Colmes", and their guest was Betty Phelps-Schurle, wife of the Rev. Fred Phelps, who first made names for themselves by picketing the funeral of Matthew Shephard.
They've since moved on to picketing the funerals of American soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Basically they feel that whatever tragedy befalls America these days is because God is punishing the U.S. for allowing homosexuality to "flourish". (Tell that to the gay-marriage supporters.)

When asked if the Amish schoolgirls killed this week deserved to die, this rhymes-with-witch actually answered "yes". Not because they were homosexual, but because they refused to "obey God". Quite frankly, if I had to point to an example of a God-fearing American, it would be hard to top the Amish, but whatever......

My point about the good news / bad news angle in this affair is as follows. I think it is GOOD that H & C allowed this woman to spew her hatred and insanity on national television. The more that people see this, the better warned they are. Certain types of horrible ideas need exposure in the same manner that vampires need sunlight - so they can wither and die.

However, I think it is bad because they only attacked her on her own terms. Their questions were along the lines of "Are you not a sinner, too?" That is, they took the position that her version of Christianity was harmful and hateful. I would have taken a different approach. At her first mention of "God", I would have asked : Which god are you talking about ? The one who shoots 6 year-old Amish girls, the one who flies airplanes into skyscrapers, or the one who stood by while six million of his followers went to the gas chambers in WWII ?

I know that according to the traditional rules of debate and deliberation, I just flew off the rails right there with those questions. But these are extrordinarily dangerous times and most of it is due to religious fanaticism. It's time that people get a grip on their beliefs and realize that their faith is basically an un-testable hypothesis. And I don't say this as an atheist, either. I'm not sure what to believe, but I also find it hard to believe we are a cosmic accident. One thing I am sure of is that it is now 3:00 A.M. and I may not have made perfect sense here. Maybe I'll come back and refine this tomorrow. Maybe not. In any case, I know that I will continue through life discovering some things to be true, some to be false, and some an eternal mystery. But I won't accept ancient writings from the desert to be THE TRUE WORD just because my parents, church, teacher or president told me to.

To paraphrase W.C. Fields, I may be drunk, but the world is insane. And tomorrow I'll be sober.

:>)

Testing...One...two...

...Is this thing on ? Hello ?

Poem (inspired by chrisn'cats photos)

A TOAST

to lift
and tip back
at an angle
most welcome

the cold wash
of day's end mercy

curved glass and
beaded wonder
singing under the fingertips
to a song
our hearts
learned long ago

open the evening now
and let it breathe

we have skies to admire.

Fear is temporary - Regret is forever

the greatest words i have heard (recently)....

New York vs. Chicago

OK - the law is on the side of New York-based Federated Department Stores, the new owners of Marshall Field's store. They have every right to issue cease-and-desist orders to a local deli for selling a sandwich called "The Marshall Field." Fine.

If it's copyrighted/trademarked, it's your property. You don't have to share.

That's why I think the deli owner should stop selling that sandwich as "The Marshall Field". Instead, the name should be abbreviated. With initials.

Call it "The M. F. "

Let New York interpret that any way they want.

Chicago Poetry Fest 2006

This Sunday, August 27th, I will have the pleasure of reading at this year's Chicago Poetry Fest. There will be great mix of known and unknown (like me!) poets reading their work outdoors at Giddings Plaza in Lincoln Square on Chicago's Northwest side.
We each have seven minutes to read our best stuff and impress the crowd with our fabulous-ness. I'm just hoping for a microphone that doesn't squeal with feedback.

Here is the poem I submitted to the editor C. J. Laity of www.chicagopoetry.com which earned me a slot at the fest.

TWO-WAY STOP

i love to kiss her

my lesbian friend
when saying hello
or goodbye

i never go for the lips
or even the cheek
i dive

for the base of the neck
where that collarbone
scoops out
a lovely depression

where the heart lung and nerve
trade pulses
like the smoothest freeway
exchange you ever saw
and my mouth
searches

for that cellular dividing line
that changes traffic forever

turning her one way and me another

and i wonder where it is
where that answer is buried

in science
in childhood
or under my kiss
beneath her lovely depression

but that doesn't matter

doesn't matter at all
and neither do I.

Thank God/Buddha/Joni Mitchell For Fire-Retardant Carpeting

20 minutes ago I walked into my apartment and panicked.

No air-conditioning. In this weather. No sound of an air-conditioner. In this heat. Hot enough inside to tell me that the freon had probably run out again. There goes 75 bucks, I thought. Nothin that bad except the money. And then I stepped into the room where the AC was and turned on the light. What I saw scared the spit out of me.

A six-inch section of the extension cord was coal-black. And so was approximately 12-18 inches of my bedroom carpeting. Scorched (but not smoking). But here's the best part- MY CAT DID NOT DIE IN A FIRE. So I've got that to be grateful for.

And the flame-retardant carpeting was key. 50 years ago, my cat would have been dead and this apartment - with its guitars and poems and songs and letters - might have made the sad "Weather Round-Up" fatalities report on Channel 9.

(gettin up early to buy new extension cord and carpet de-odorizer).

Thank God/Buddha/Joni Mitchell - The Holy Trinity

A Quick Test of Verbal Skills

Try this : Describe the difference between a tank-top and a sleeveless T-shirt without using your hands. Be precise. Simply describe each type of shirt. Words only. No gestures.

Good luck and try not to sound like an idiot.

Chris n' Cats

Everyone should check out Chris' Blog.

I Will Say It One More Time....

Every single person in the Unites States should read this.

A Poem

THEY KILL ME

what is it with green eyes.

is it because they usually
look blue at first glance
and when you realize that
holy fuck
those are not blue
they're actually green
and not a milky hazel
or a fiery hazel
or a set of colored lenses
from the trendy eye boutique
where the shallow and wealthy
collide in one big urban disaster
or a trick of the light
(or a dimming of yours)
but honest-to-God green
like the shade of backyard maples
in 1972 or the color of
your first bicycle

yes that green

what is it with green eyes.

Let Me Share Two Quotes Completely Out Of Context

1) "I'm tired of talking about my breasts, so I'm picking up my accordian and going home".

2) "You might think that the three of us times 10,000 makes a great neighborhood, but No - we need hookers and crackheads and stuff to keep from boring each other to death".

God bless my friends.

Gig Tonight

Yeah this is stupid to post at this late hour, but there is a gig tonight at Hotti Biscotti, 3545 W. Fullerton, Chicago IL featuring myself and another poster to this blog, Julie. We will entertain you. You will have fun. You have no choice. It begins in two hours. Be there.

( HB is a place where all the cool cats hang, like the one in the picture. )

Mark Cordell !

I have been meaning to post a thank you since Memorial Day. On that holiday weekend, the weather here in Chicago was brutally hot and humid with the kind of air that seals your skin like blacktop. Temperatures made a one day jump from the mid-60's to the upper 90's. And picnics, cookouts, and outdoor gatherings all around were affected. Suddenly, smoky grills and BBQ pits were to be avoided like wind sprints in August from your football coach. Sweaty, dirty , and dangerous work that only the truly dedicated should undertake.

And on that day, I was due to attend a backyard cookout with friends and family. Trouble was, I had no sleeveless t-shirts in my wardrobe. As I have said, this was a day unsuited for mere short-sleeve t-shirts. It required NO SLEEVES AT ALL. If I were in better shape physically, I would have gone shirtless. But, alas, I no longer have the flat stomach I had at age 22. So it was time for a sleeveless solution - And where to get it ? The local re-sale shop, of course. My favorite re-sale shop has been the source of many a 3 or 4 dollar wardrobe treasure, and this time it came through again.

I found two perfectly good Fruit-Of-The-Loom sleeveless t-shirts, one yellow and one light-blue. My size exactly and no defects whatsoever. However there was one detail I had to inspect : there was some writing above the tag. It was in black felt-tipped marker. And the writing said "Mark Cordell ! " That's right. Mr. Cordell not only had to mark his shirt with his name, he had to add an exclamation point. Dammit ! These were HIS SHIRTS. And you had better KNOW IT ! . I wonder what had happened to him in whatever locker room in the past that made him take a stand.
Stolen clothing obviously, and maybe a confrontation with someone. (Somebody shirtless and threatening ? ) Who knows.

I paid a total of $4.34 for the two shirts and they will serve me well for the rest of the summer. Quality cotton. Good stitching and still-bright colors. And the black felt-tipped marker which reminds me that once upon a time, Mark Cordell(!) valued these shirts so much that he personally autographed them.

I am lucky and I know who to thank.

Happy Memorial Day

The closest I ever came to being in the Army was the Cub scouts. History chose to make me a stateside hero, earning my ribbons in peacetime. In the midwest.

In fourth grade.

It's the least I can do to pass on my uniform to my oldest nephew.Happy Holidays America.