All memberships have expired here
The clocks have lost count
So there are no daylight savings
The clocks have lost count
So there are no daylight savings
You won’t find a pen with ink
Or a pencil with a point
No matter how well you search
Or a pencil with a point
No matter how well you search
A trail of fingerprints might lead you to
A fat furry fly
Whose body lies exactly where it fell
On a sill in the dust utterly silent
A fat furry fly
Whose body lies exactly where it fell
On a sill in the dust utterly silent
Bits of red and green Christmas tree ornaments
Glint in dark corners
Dog hair memos
Scrawled into threadbare oriental carpets
Caught in a butterknife of sunlight
Glint in dark corners
Dog hair memos
Scrawled into threadbare oriental carpets
Caught in a butterknife of sunlight
(Are they a clue?)
If you grow hungry here
The dog’s lamb dinner ever simmers on the stove
And for the thirsty
An ancient distiller drips water
Which smolders with the flavor of burnt rubber
Into smeary glasses which already hold
Untold poisons
The dog’s lamb dinner ever simmers on the stove
And for the thirsty
An ancient distiller drips water
Which smolders with the flavor of burnt rubber
Into smeary glasses which already hold
Untold poisons
(Sorry Mr. Moto. No whiskey and soda served here!)
The sponges here are criminally insane
They squish and squash between your fingers
Like the wet gloved hand of a long dead great aunt
They squish and squash between your fingers
Like the wet gloved hand of a long dead great aunt
Yet….
Glass polar bears and brass sea horses
Do shine here
In the light of grease-caked windows
Do shine here
In the light of grease-caked windows
The greatest danger here is
Getting stuck on the kitchen floor
Where you might remain
Unnoticed for a tortoise age
Getting stuck on the kitchen floor
Where you might remain
Unnoticed for a tortoise age
Or getting locked inside the coffin-sized water closet
Under the stairs
Where your screams for help
Would be drowned in the ever-flowing john
Under the stairs
Where your screams for help
Would be drowned in the ever-flowing john
If ever you find yourself here
Fondling your last breath
Gazing up the underbelly of the cracked stairs
Fondling your last breath
Gazing up the underbelly of the cracked stairs
Beware!
For something miraculous is always
Just about to happen
And if you’re quiet enough
Just about to happen
And if you’re quiet enough
You might be called to witness
An old man
As he winds his tall clocks
And walks in shadow lodgings.
An old man
As he winds his tall clocks
And walks in shadow lodgings.
. . . . . . . . . .
He wanders the silent
Dust-twilled air
Dust-twilled air
“Eh? What did you say?”
I said
He scuffles the timeworn
Smoothly grooved floorboards
He scuffles the timeworn
Smoothly grooved floorboards
“What? I can’t hear you!”
He hobbles the wobbly
Cobblestone snow-piled streets
Cobblestone snow-piled streets
A man carrying a colossal
Account of hours upon his shoulders
With flat feet
Account of hours upon his shoulders
With flat feet
“Just a moment. I can’t hear you.
Let me turn up my hearing aid.
Now!?”
Let me turn up my hearing aid.
Now!?”
Pressed down into his crumbling shoes
Which have grown huge
Catching the crooked iron rail
At the cracked brick corner
His dog with ears pressed down—
Which have grown huge
Catching the crooked iron rail
At the cracked brick corner
His dog with ears pressed down—
How can a dog walk so slowly?
How can a dog
Keep its ears pressed down
Walking down a steep hill so slowly
Past a cement lion in lichens?
Keep its ears pressed down
Walking down a steep hill so slowly
Past a cement lion in lichens?
I wonder. Neigh. I marvel
How can this ancient man
Tied to this ancient dog
Climb back up this steep ancient hill so slowly
Tied to this ancient dog
Climb back up this steep ancient hill so slowly
Up these ever steeper ancient stairs?!
“Did you say something?”
No. I said nothing.
. . . . . . . . .
No dog barked
As I entered the vestibule
With the tree on my shoulders
An old man
A passerby on the red brick sidewalk
Had remarked
“Who are you? Santa Claus!?”
A passerby on the red brick sidewalk
Had remarked
“Who are you? Santa Claus!?”
And you had said—
Stopping a moment
To catch your breath
Stopping a moment
To catch your breath
“Even with a tree on your back
I can’t walk half as fast as you can.”
I can’t walk half as fast as you can.”
Another old man
The one who had sold you the tree
For fifteen bucks at the Charles Street Market
Had stated gleefully—
The one who had sold you the tree
For fifteen bucks at the Charles Street Market
Had stated gleefully—
“It’s the best one I’ve seen
For its size and
I’ve been selling these things for
Fifteen years!”
For its size and
I’ve been selling these things for
Fifteen years!”
“Quite a salesman” you had sniggered.
And as I carried the tiny “charlie brown” tree
Into the cavernous front
Eighteen-forties parlour room
To see if it would
Fill the whole front window!
Into the cavernous front
Eighteen-forties parlour room
To see if it would
Fill the whole front window!
He smiled.
I saw him
He smiled.
He smiled.
. . . . . . . . . .
Where is that old doggy
We knew so well?
One day she stumbled... or
Who can tell?
Who can tell?
Her name was—
“Amica… which is Italian for… or
Did you know?”
Did you know?”
Yes…
“We loved her so.”
She stayed with your sister… or
The reason—
I don’t recall
The reason—
I don’t recall
She simply didn’t return
After the fall
After the fall
Perhaps it was too much
Just walking her around
Just walking her around
Perhaps she’s been planted
In the cold cold ground.
In the cold cold ground.
. . . . . . . . .
The real Santa Claus couldn't make it
Down and through the intricate
Five-story Beacon Hill townhouse chimney
At 46 Mount Vernon Street this Christmas
He couldn’t even make it downstairs
So we dragged his motorized metal slay
And all of his earthly paraphernalia
Onto the first floor
(Second door to the right...)
Into the once formal family dining room
And all of his earthly paraphernalia
Onto the first floor
(Second door to the right...)
Into the once formal family dining room
Overlooking a tiny hidden garden
Beside the cavernous front parlour
Next a narrow rear kitchen—
There he half-sat
Half-lay sideways
Propped up on a mountain of pillows
Lion’s pose
Calling for milk and cookies
All Christmas season!
Half-lay sideways
Propped up on a mountain of pillows
Lion’s pose
Calling for milk and cookies
All Christmas season!
Like the immutable coddled cherry
Red oozing from his lower right leg
Atop an impossible pile of whipped cream
Swooning in his hospital bed
Lost in woolly mammoth dreams
Maintaining reason.
Red oozing from his lower right leg
Atop an impossible pile of whipped cream
Swooning in his hospital bed
Lost in woolly mammoth dreams
Maintaining reason.
. . . . . . . . . .
You called me on the big black
Bakelite GPO 300 Series
Vintage rotary dial out of the blue
And we dug holes together
“Eight inches deep!” you commanded
And we sprinkled bone meal—
“Grandpa’s bones?” I muttered
On the naked ground
“Grandpa’s bones?” I muttered
On the naked ground
“One hour!” you proclaimed
As though the god Pan himself
Would have strapped us with a birch
For tardiness
As though the god Pan himself
Would have strapped us with a birch
For tardiness
Soon the sky grew dark
Then darker still
So that I had trouble
Seeing the bottoms of the holes
Then darker still
So that I had trouble
Seeing the bottoms of the holes
We were silent mostly
Working against the rough edges of time
In the shadowy moldering corners
Of a hopeful hidden garden on Beacon Hill
Working against the rough edges of time
In the shadowy moldering corners
Of a hopeful hidden garden on Beacon Hill
The yellow the pink and
The black "Queen of the Night" bulbs
Their tiny spring green shoots
Piercing the onion skin petticoats
In the last glimpses of January
Hiding inside the moist earth.
The black "Queen of the Night" bulbs
Their tiny spring green shoots
Piercing the onion skin petticoats
In the last glimpses of January
Hiding inside the moist earth.
. . . . . . . . . .
So carefully balancing
Upon a crusty sunbeam
Between two broke-leg antique chairs
This irascible old man
Who fell down hill
All summer long
Fetching his pail of water
Who fell down hill
All summer long
Fetching his pail of water
His legs bothering him
Why should he bother
To salute inconsequential me?
Why should he bother
To salute inconsequential me?
While I
Stumbling over sunny openers—
Stumbling over sunny openers—
“Hi. How are you my heroic good man, Achilles?”
Feeling the peak of idiocy
Turn to the Necco candy heart glass jars
Whose grunge-coated shells
So patiently concealing
Random odd forgotten crumbly
Betty Crocker mysteries
And vanilla wafer soliloquies
Turn to the Necco candy heart glass jars
Whose grunge-coated shells
So patiently concealing
Random odd forgotten crumbly
Betty Crocker mysteries
And vanilla wafer soliloquies
I shall wipe to gleam
And so begin again
With my ancient twin Br’er Sisyphus
Our Monday routine.
With my ancient twin Br’er Sisyphus
Our Monday routine.
. . . . . . . . . .
A 280-Z skidding around a wet bend in Brookline MA
Met a big red Custom Deluxe Ten Chevy pickup head on
A clear lucite bookend atop a Philco Predicta tv circa 1959
Fell decapitating a clay replica of the Lady on the Grande Jatte
Fell decapitating a clay replica of the Lady on the Grande Jatte
An adjustable metal-ribbed hospital bed
Wedged under a round mahogany antique flip-top
Reading stand tearing the top off
Wedged under a round mahogany antique flip-top
Reading stand tearing the top off
A shiny globular midnight blue Christmas bulb
Toppling from a small dry Christmas tree
Smashed during the night upon the grand parlour floor
Toppling from a small dry Christmas tree
Smashed during the night upon the grand parlour floor
A youngish alleged to be the same man
In the red big pickup truck with the Rod n Gun camper shell
Losing control of his ten-speed bicycle
Sliding head and shoulders upon sheet ice
Avoiding an anonymous lady in black
Destroyed his red and blue plastic bike horn today
In the red big pickup truck with the Rod n Gun camper shell
Losing control of his ten-speed bicycle
Sliding head and shoulders upon sheet ice
Avoiding an anonymous lady in black
Destroyed his red and blue plastic bike horn today
A huge ugly hunk of cement came unglued
From a sagging garage ceiling in Jamaica Plain MA
Crashing onto the once perfect hood of a
British racing green 1963 four-door Buick LeSabre
From Pipestone Grange Minnesota
No injuries were reported
From a sagging garage ceiling in Jamaica Plain MA
Crashing onto the once perfect hood of a
British racing green 1963 four-door Buick LeSabre
From Pipestone Grange Minnesota
No injuries were reported
The ancient diabolical-looking electrical transformer
WWI-II military surplus
You told me to plug into
Household current and—
WWI-II military surplus
You told me to plug into
Household current and—
“See what happens…”
Sizzled with lively flames and
A great ostrich plume of magician’s magic smoke
In the shape of a no-longer-flightless question
Burning a Susan B. Anthony silver-dollar-size hole
In the Kelly green Irish linen holiday table cloth
Making me laugh cackle gasp and... stop
A great ostrich plume of magician’s magic smoke
In the shape of a no-longer-flightless question
Burning a Susan B. Anthony silver-dollar-size hole
In the Kelly green Irish linen holiday table cloth
Making me laugh cackle gasp and... stop
Through it all
You sat there unimpressed
With your swollen feet raised in a bi-pedal salute
Waiting--
Waiting for your hospital sleigh to levitate
Waiting for your next home-cooked meal to appear
Waiting for the US Mail to drop through the slot
Or?
You sat there unimpressed
With your swollen feet raised in a bi-pedal salute
Waiting--
Waiting for your hospital sleigh to levitate
Waiting for your next home-cooked meal to appear
Waiting for the US Mail to drop through the slot
Or?
. . . . . . . . . .
Nothing remarkable
About this man
“Do you read…
The Reader’s Digest?
The Reader’s Digest?
Well you should.
There’s an article about
Ohhh…
What’s his name—
The guy who started
Reader’s Digest
Ohhh…
What’s his name—
The guy who started
Reader’s Digest
Became a billionaire!
Read everywhere
‘cause he figured out—
See?
People want things
Read everywhere
‘cause he figured out—
See?
People want things
Short and snappy!
His parents and friends
Thought he was stupid
Thought he’d amount to nothing—
He lived to 91!
Gave his father 50 mill!
Thought he was stupid
Thought he’d amount to nothing—
He lived to 91!
Gave his father 50 mill!
They say in the year 2000
There’ll be 50,000 people
Past the age of a hundred—
There’ll be 50,000 people
Past the age of a hundred—
I’m 87!
The trick’s to live to ninety!
The trick’s to live to ninety!
Will you be alive in the year 2050?
Why did I ask you that?!
I can’t remember what I was gonna say…
I can’t remember what I was gonna say…
Oh. Dewitt Wallace!!”
Nothing memorable
About this day.
About this day.
. . . . . . . . . .
Is lunch at 12?
Or is it at 2?
Well. I don’t know—
Do you?
I have to wait
Until she gets back
’til then I’ll settle
On a snack
Until she gets back
’til then I’ll settle
On a snack
Alligator pear
Oozing Brunswick green delight—
Oozing Brunswick green delight—
I sure hope she’s home
Before night!
Before night!
With my ancient legs
In bed I lie still
Whilst my dutiful wife
Climbs Beacon Hill
In bed I lie still
Whilst my dutiful wife
Climbs Beacon Hill
And in Time magazine
I’ll confide
Reading ‘bout—
Teenage suicide
I’ll confide
Reading ‘bout—
Teenage suicide
The housecleaner will come
The housecleaner will go
Wondering whether
It’s rain or snow?
The housecleaner will go
Wondering whether
It’s rain or snow?
But. I don’t know
’tis all the same to me
S’long’s my name’s
Not in the obituary!
’tis all the same to me
S’long’s my name’s
Not in the obituary!
Nope. I don’t care
If they’re growin’ poinsettias
On the new moon!
The doctor told me--
To lie here
’til June.
If they’re growin’ poinsettias
On the new moon!
The doctor told me--
To lie here
’til June.
. . . . . . . . . .
Remember that day
You ate half a box of—
Whitman’s Sampler?
(Roll over Russell Stover!)
And played boogie-woogie
On the Deagan Deluxe rosewood zylophone
Ragtime on the big black
On the Deagan Deluxe rosewood zylophone
Ragtime on the big black
Yeah baby--
Play it Henry E. Steinway and great great grandsons...
Baby grand!
You told me that the holey moley
Zoot sooted oil painting
Hanging over the cracked marble mantle
In the paint-starved dining room
Was worth well over a swell hundred thousand clams!
Play it Henry E. Steinway and great great grandsons...
Baby grand!
You told me that the holey moley
Zoot sooted oil painting
Hanging over the cracked marble mantle
In the paint-starved dining room
Was worth well over a swell hundred thousand clams!
And the sagging aubergine upholstered
Moth-eaten yet ever stiff-backed—
Empire period fainting couch and
All those collapsing mahogany lady's chairs
In the just-barely living room
Were well well over a hundred years cold!
Moth-eaten yet ever stiff-backed—
Empire period fainting couch and
All those collapsing mahogany lady's chairs
In the just-barely living room
Were well well over a hundred years cold!
And that out of your Harvard graduating class
Of 30 jolly gads in 1917—
Only three were still jiving!?
Of 30 jolly gads in 1917—
Only three were still jiving!?
Well… I didn’t eat
All those amiable stuffed chocolates
You kept giving me
All those amiable stuffed chocolates
You kept giving me
I put them back
Into the musical grooves of
That many-slotted box.
Into the musical grooves of
That many-slotted box.
. . . . . . . . . .
