NUMBER 357

i wonder what would happen if
i ate a whole pint of hagen-daz
ice cream every day
that’s almost 900 calories but
if i only ate ice cream
would i gain weight
would i lose weight
would people begin smelling
sour milk as they pass by
would the ice cream remain frozen
if i meditated on cold or frozen
would i eat every flavor
or would i choose my favorites
vanilla,
chocolate,
caramel latte against coffee
chocolate genache wrestling with mango
butter pecan throwing strawberries everywhere
some of these flavors are pure spirit
some are so undiluted
they should be called spirit cream
if rum raisin starts dancing to
‘casey would waltz with the strawberry blonde
and the band played on’

( no plastic spoons please )

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NUMBER 356

look for comfortable
cloud banks
on the lower side
of what could be
an opening,
climb up slowly, safely
but hurry,
it’s only going
to be there for
a few minutes.
don’t hesitate
crawl through that
shining, disappearing
entrance.
don’t be frightened
jump
you just made it.
wow,
wow,
wow.
look at what you did,
you opened another
foothold.
don’t ever be shakey
again
you don’t need me anymore
i’m going to disappear
“please don’t, what if i”
“oh, how silly i am “
this place is beyond gigantic

am i dead?
but what is it called?
don’t go–what’s your name?

NUMBER 355

the springer rose is
doing it again.
it’s spring moving toward summer
and it’s in full bloom.
it’s larger than ever
it’s half the length of
the back garden wall
it’s not necessary to
know its history.
just stand on the deck
and sniff.
rose stories you never heard before
will waft through your nostrils.
you’ll start thinking that
you’re floating toward the
wall of roses.
if you get close enough
you may become entwined
in the rose net
and then you will be almost eternal.
you will bloom whenever you please.
oh to be a rose tree and never have a worry
to smell in the garden in any season.
pretend you’re not alive,
pretend you’re not dead,
pretend rose eternity

NUMBER 354

damn
i have the clicker
will bring it back
click
click
Where am i
i am the
clicker
THe clicker
THE Clicker
the clicker is quicker,
quick, fast
the

disappearing has. begun

(for jeanne)

NUMBER 353

when shall we three meet again
in summer or in rain
when the hurly-burly’s
done . when the battle’s
fought and won.
when the woman gently
strokes the truth ;
when the gentleman
softly sings sunset
when the symbol of beauty
lies within
the
pink
peony
held by a siamese angel
when the clock only stops at three
and bows to silence

NUMBER 352

she told me i was sitting
there like a gargoyle
i thought she said
dog’s tail
obviously my fine tuned hearing aide
still needed tweeking
i wondered how a gargoyle feels
sitting through several centuries

yeaterday was our
wedding anniversary
we used our present to Greens
and went there for dinner
the final winner’s choice
narrowed down to the
large ronund
rolls
i couldn’t stop thinking
about them.
long after we left the restaurant
i smelled their single scent.
they gave us two for our breakfast,
i felt like a kid,
waiting for christmas.

we’ve been married for 33 years,
how could this be,
she’s so beautiful
and i sand away at my sarcasm
making it smoother
so slippy one can’t get off,
so slideful one can’t
get on or stay on.
i can’t imagine having
anyone listen to my bullshit
for so long,
and yet we thrive
we shout at each other,
we whisper when we
lose our voices
and yet somehow we continue
being us.
isn’t it wonderful
if only we could hold on forever,
playing scrabble
watching old movies,
asking for so little
and receiving so much

NUMBER 351

he had tried
so many times
to sing an aria
with unbelievable
be auty
but the fates visited only
once
with the grandeur of Lenski,
the depth
of his love.
as he flew above the stage
Olga turned around
and couldn’t believe
the burning passion
radiating from his heart.
they joined hands and lifted
above the scenary
beyond the theatre.
this was more than anything
they had ever touched
they flew
into the arms
of Tchaikovsky

NUMBER 350

twelve beautiful bursting
red roses
shone upon the table
for so many days,
now
the leaves had crumbled,
the vase was taken away
but the deep impression
of so many years
stayed there
forever
in memory of
teacher and student
sculptors of so many
tones,
so many deep sounds,
that became a reality:
in the spirit of the roses
in the soul of the music
there is no disappearance
in the music that floated there
in silent songs

( for Christie and Laurel )

NUMBER 349

for several days there have been
many whispers,
whispers aren’t rare
but these are piling up,
more whispers than can ever
be counted.
there are long clouds
of smile whispers,
sometimes they dissolve
into t e a r s,
there are laughing whispers
that bump into each other
as if a joke has been told
and everything
is burst- ing.
there are compassionate
crying whispers
that won’t let go
they hang from trees
they sprout from the grass.

munch
is passing,
it’s happening slowly
like a sad, sad rainfall,
everytime he looks
toward a crowd and throws
a k i s s
there is a loud, banging silence.
he is dressed in one of his best
suits,
it has the soft, silken sheen
of expensive.
he doesn’t want to leave
but he knows it is time
his thin, thin
supple, graceful body
is getting thinner
i t’s becoming angel
i t’s becoming cloud
but we can still see him
i t’s becoming star glitter
we always knew he was magic
all of his jokes are popping
out of his soul
the universe is filled with munch smiles
munch laughs munch love
for several days all that can be heard
is the melting of evil
the truth of ‘i told you’
i left but i didn’t soon you’ll understand

( for Richard Belzer/munch)

NUMBER 348

at about 11:30 p m
i stood near the living room window
it’s a tall window, at least eight feet
i stood there and waited
i wasn’t sure why i was waiting
later i looked at the clock
it was 4:30 a m— my legs were tired
i was waiting for a swishing sound
a sound made with a little water
a sound made with a gentle wind
at 6:15 a m, i went to bed

at exactly 1:30 a m the next day
i stood near the dining room window
within fifteen minutes i could hear
a gentle sound, an unmistakable sound
as i looked out the window
it was filled with large, square snowflakes
large, square snowflakes everywhere
wet, large snowflakes all over bergen street
probably all over brooklyn
if i could stretch my brain enoough
i could imagine
the universe
full
of
dancing snowflakes.
at three a m, the snow was still falling
more and more and more
i put on my heavy overcoat, my gloves,
my galoshes and a winter smile

i walked into alex’s room
i shook him gently, “it’s snowing
the street is full of snow,
let’s go sledding”
those words,”let’s go sledding”
were magic
i helped alex into his warm clothes
the sled was hanging in the kitchen
we pulled it down from its hook
it was waiting for the snow
we left our apartment quietly
and walked into a winterland
we smiled at each other
we couldn’t stop smiling
the snow was perfect
sticky enough
wet enough
packed down enough

there were people everywhere
it was very quiet
nobody wanted to wake the sleepers
mothers and fathers
pulled their children on sleds
everytime we passed someone
we smiled and giggled
it was a winter miracle
we slid into solitude
it was like sledding in church
singing snow hymns
murmuring snowflake prayers
after a few hours we all went home
for a little more sleep.
later that day when
we passed each other
we didn’t speak
inside ourselves we were saying,
“don’t tell anybody
it’s our secret”

[ for alex }