> monolog

> monolog

You weren't paying attention

when I told you, like before,
that the teaspoons, the little spoons.
The spoons you eat your oatmeal with.

Well, those spoons, the teaspoons,
the ones you use in the morning,
they must go into the dishwasher
a certain way...

That's with the fat side down. 

The scoop end goes into the holder first.
Otherwise, the skinny end, the part you hold,
will fall through the holder and jam the machine.

-dp-
 10-28-13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And again, you weren't paying attention
at all when I told you, like before,
that the teaspoons, the little spoons.
The spoons you eat your oatmeal with.

> monolog

You probably weren't paying attention
but I'll tell you again, just as before,
you know the teaspoons, the little spoons.
The spoons you eat your oatmeal with
at breakfast?

You know the spoons I'm talking about?
Well, those spoons, the teaspoons,
the ones you use in the morning, well
they must go into the dishwasher
a certain way...

That's with the fat side down. The end
that you put in your mouth goes in the holder.
Otherwise, the skinny end, the end you hold,
falls through the holder and jams

the machine.

-dp-
10-28-13

-dp-
 10-28-13

crumbs

>> crumbs

I only eat whole cookies
not ones that are cracked
or in pieces, or the tiny
crumbs that cling to the
bottom of the cookie jar
or even those rattling sugary bits
mingling with grains and chips
that may have some dough
and chocolate melted inside
or bound to the clear plastic
clamshell container that they
arrive from the store in
but what's left now is only
destined for some landfill
or better, perhaps, some
cookie recycling center
deep in the desert
where maybe one day
they can be re-mixed
and become whole again!
besides, nobody really knows
what goes on out there...


-dp-
8-5-17

Leena

somewhere some time...
perhaps tonight

a young girl
rests her head
on her grandmother's lap
watching Leena Horne
on the Dick Cavett Show
some sixty, or so, years ago

Grandma nestles the child
closer and whispers
honey
honey...
do you hear that...
do you hear that...
coughing

do you hear that coughing
in the background
that's me, that's me
many years ago
when I was young
about your age

I was a big fan
of Leena Horne
back then,
when I was young
and I wanted
to hear her sing
and speak
so much
that I asked my father
to drive over
to the studio
because I'd heard
on the radio
that she'd be there
later on TV.

and there she was
my idol, my hero
Leena Horne
not twenty feet away
so eloquent, so
stylish and beautiful
Full of poise and class
and as witty as I'd dreamed

and then, suddenly
from nowhere
came this scratchy
itchy cough
it just
wouldn't stop
and only got worse

the ushers
with great politeness
escorted me
from my seat
to an outer room

gave me some water
and a hard candy
they tried to help
consoled me
but the cough
just got worse

I cried and coughed
coughed and cried
and without monitors 

in the room

like there might be today
I missed Leena's entire
interview and song

Leena
always the sweetheart
had heard about
what had happened
and after the applause
after her exit
from the stage
she sought me out

Leena bent down
and hugged me
dried my tears
with the sweater
she had about
her shoulders
and kissed me
on the cheek

Leena told me
it was alright
that I was brave
and sweet
spoke to my father
and then gave me
a ride home

The red sweater
the one you're 

covered with now 

was...


-dp-

2-12-16

> dedicated to my Dad, who for unexplained reasons had a framed picture of Leena Horne on his desk and would claim she was his wife.

absence

I checked her room
everything I loved 

was gone

her mother stood 
rattling knobs
a fixture at the door             

revealing only rage

this shuttered house 
conceals only memories

and the tiny absence

she permitted
home to be

-dp-
4-6-15 

decline

this decline from middle class
to a place less brightly lit
long days lost in narrow streets
between ancient bordered brick
to my cracked stucco walk up
climb those dark sooted stairs
hard steps I rise to view bleak

alleys lined with dirty dented

dumpsters spilling loose waste

boldly to vagrant pools of

homeless piss running gently

from crudely boarded doorways
where flies buzz and feed
on randomly aged excrement
and taco bell treats of spurted puke

I wipe the wonder of
whose used condom
there dangling from my
tired steel toed boot 
resting now lifeless on
my welcome mat wanting
only for swift revival

at last, I'm here, home

at my torridly torpid room
bearably safe from this
last little patrolled lost corner
of enraged desperate city
after crackers and bread
I  shower cold stained as
water drains past my ankles

I pull the cord and kill the
swaying light bulb clinging
from wire nuts to the cracked
and peeling damp ceiling
pulling back thin sheets I

lay my boots and body down

-dp-

3-21-15

like gravity

I lean               

perpetually
towards earth

step by step
I ease along 

its arc 

with steady 

plodding 
footfalls

each step
induces descent 

exposes fault  

hastens

my course    

towards destiny

draw me

instruct me

ease this pace

guide me

closer 
to gravity

-dp-

1-24-15

drawn

I lean

perpetually
towards earth

always
step by step
directly
               
treading
the curves
of your heart  

drawn
helplessly                               
by gravity  

-dp-
12-10-14