Monthly Archives: March 2023

Poetry

What a Ride: A Proposal

Looks like we might have made it to the finish line.

At least we could walk it from here.

Well, you could. I have some doubts.

And it wasn’t like it was a smooth ride.

Lots of couples hit some bumps in the road,

But we skidded out more than once,

Saw the ditches way too close 

When I was driving a while ago,

And I know we caught air this last time.

You were driving.

But I think I can see the route ahead

And now that we know we don’t speak the same language,

But we think we’re heading the same way,

I’ll try to navigate if you’ll do the steering.

Deal?

[44]

Poetry, Uncategorized

Admonition

My elders were very poor teachers,
Or I was a piss-poor student.
So much about aging was left unsaid
Or unheard:

That pain is ugly
But it’s only pain.

That your heart will heal
But it might be a little crooked afterwards.

That the injuries from the Spring of youth
Return in the Winter.

That you can weep when one who cares
moves on—
And still wish them every goodness.

They also didn’t mention that
Mentors grow in age,
That gardens aren’t about vegetables,
That owning a dog isn’t about owning.

And shame on them for not telling
How an old heart can swell,
not just with edema,
But from the full panoramic view of life
As it plays out on the faces of children
And then the Elfin magic of grandchildren.

I’m writing this down today
So no one else forgets to say
Or hear.

[43]

Uncategorized

MEDIA ALERT!

for old mostly white people who medicate with Michigan legal marihuana (no, really, that’s what we legalized in Michigan). I have found a new show that caps the peak of the Boomer nostalgia mountain. Wait. It’s animated. It has Elvis (portrayed by Matthew McConauhey). It touches on every media button of the 60s and you want to shake off the pain and bring on a new, appreciative state of mind. AGENT ELVIS, Here’s a link to a real review. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-reviews/agent-elvis-review-matthew-mcconaughey-netflix-1235354807/

PS You don’t have to be white, or even mostly white to watch this show. The part of you that enjoys this show is the part that is an old white or mostly white person living inside you.

Poetry, What'sit?

A Gift From the Cosmos

I don’t know where these came from. They seem to be characters in a music/arts scene somewhere. Two are recognizable as characters I’ve known from Ann Arbor. That’s George Bedard of George Bedard and the Kingpins above. He seems to belong with these. I don’t now if there are more of them or if they interact somehow, but I put them here so they won’t get lost.

Rocky
Low blare of the bass sax.
Get back to it, man.
Cats wearing shades.
Collars up-turned.
Black pants.
Black pants.
Hepcats in the wings.
Rocky croons a vibrato.
Her name is Wynona.
Rocky never gives us rules,
A right-hearted man.
Wynona was all warm.
Her hair with wine.
Her voice full of no-nah, no-nah.

[32]
..

George danced like a question mark.
It was always the same question.
The cat snapped his fingers
And kept the burning stump of a Lucky
Between his lips,
Smoke curling into a squinted eye.
George had been around a couple more years
Than the rest of the hep-cats.
A pioneer with a question
That never got answered.

[33]

(PS This is not George Bedard. This is another George who may very well have gone to listen to the Kingpins.)
..

Billy
Tough Black cat with a white guy’s name,
In a scene that’s pretty white.
Took the bias both ways.
Talks code to cross over
When he hangs at the last juke joint.
It’s all Blues
And Rock-a-billy with him.
He’s a Blues-Billie.

[34]
..

The Ardog
Beat poet
Black coat
A fucking beret,
Do you believe that cat?
Clove mutherfuckin’ cigarettes.
Does percussion on road trips
From the back seat
On the backs of the front seat.
Long hair flailing
But it’s getting thin already.
He’ll look like a monk in ten years.
Talks a hep game
But he’s a
One trick pony with eyebags.

[35]
..

Jake.
Whatchew doing here?
You gotta get some strings for that thing, man. Whoever heard of a man playing the three string?
The hat
The shades
The trenchcoat.
Those beads.
Alcohol did that to your voice?
That ain’t mouthwash.
You’ll never change, man.

[36]
..

Marcie,
Seems so French.
Holding her smoke upside-down
Pinched between her thumb and finger.
Also with the the black ankle boots.
They are French too?
your French sounds American.
Champs Elysees doesn’t sound a “p” in it.
Sometimes.
With Magyo,
Tough one,
Speaking Island French.
Holding Marcie’s temple
Against her bare shoulder,
Marcie’s neck in the crook of Magyo’s arm.
Marcie pouts.

[37]
..

Lyman
Likes beer.
:likes wine.
My old lady left me
While I was paralyzed six months.
Don’t hit me with no bus.
I’ll sue yer ass.
I’m set for life.
Now she wants to come back.
Lyman says no.
But he’s mad he has to say it.

[38]
..

Lump,
Everywhere he goes
It rains.
It finds him in the park,
In the alley.
He oozes the gloom.
No one smiles to see him
Or buys him a drink.
Keeps his hands in his overcoat.
Self-fulfilling prophet.

[39]
..

Jimmy Hot
Best dancer
Best fighter
Best racer
Best car
Best piano
But he’s boogie woogie, dontchaknow.
Too big to be a back-up.
He’ll beat your rockabillies
With a baseball bat or a piano.

[40]
..

Sweeny
Like all vixens
That look
That walk
That way of listening
And acting like there must be something better to do.
Used to be in the life
Now she’s kept.
Angling for Lyman
But with a man the age of
Lyman’s father.
Lyman’s father is dead.
So will this guy be
Before Sweeny is done with him.

[41]
..

Smitty’s on Alto
Plays it like a clarinet
Squeaks it
Lets it drone
He sweats
And he finds that one riff.
He plays it again
Again
Again
Again
Again
It breaks and the guy on the drums
Brings the band back.
That cat’s always there.

[42]
..