February 15th, 2010

Breakfast today comes with Spanish homework
and a correction in the Times because
some financial reporter copied from the Wall Street Journal.

There's still snow on the ground,
cheesy cards in mailboxes,
and confetti or ribbon still about
when you look in the right places
(a heart in windowpane fog).

February is filled with things undone,
and now it's half over plus a day.
I wonder how much chocolate was eaten yesterday in America -
the wrappers filling trash bags,
kids with sugar come-downs
still asleep at this hour,
having crashed yesterday afternoon,
from their highs and binges.

What would poor, doomed St. Valentine think?
Would he approve, from his cell?
The day before his execution:
Farewell, from your Valentine, with love,
as if his chains were made of foil and
the bars on his windows sugar-wafer-thin.
Today isn't his day any longer;
he must be lonely in his frozen cemetery.
Go: cover his grave with cut flowers.

CDL

Out There Is Tomorrow--Feb 3rd

On a day like today—this day that comes

Every year, sometime between when the streets are swept of pine needles

And when the confetti falls—there are no memories

That come naturally. Conversation is impossible

Because all you can see is outside—

Outside the air is sun-filled and crisp,

And distance is an illusion of the cold.

Outside is tomorrow or the day after.

It takes all your thoughts, but

Doesn’t burden you with concerns like dirty dishes

Or monthly bills.

You’d have to tell yourself, Remember.

Tomorrow already took today,

And yesterday is long gone. When you finally

Leave the house and knot your hands in your pockets

Until the car warms, you don’t

Adjust the mirrors.

--EWW

February 1st, 2010

It’s the first of the month and that’s good:

Everyone wants to forget last month

(Too much wine, broken promises, hair loss)

And maybe even last year—February’s

The new January.

Consider the evidence:

Item 1: J.D. Salinger died last week, and everyone think that’s sad.

(The Times ran a horrible story today:
Memories of Jerry buying groceries and going to church dinner.)

Item 2: The Democrats and Republicans are maybe not feuding

Right now. Pundits are too scared to

Hope they’ll be nice, but

I hope so.

Item 3: It’s still really cold, but

Probably not for much longer. Everyone’s talking about it and

Item 4: Valentine’s Day, even though

We’re all single. It’s like Valentine’s is good.

So case closed. It’s the shortest month

But the expectations are high

And unclear. There’s newspaper ink

On my fingers from doing the crossword, but

I finished it today.

(It’s Monday.)

--EWW

February 1st, 2010

J. D. Salinger just died
and I'd feel like a phony if I said I were sad
(I never gave much thought to the fact that he was alive)
but I'd be lying if I said I weren't and all I want to do
is walk up the steps of the Museum of Natural History
and go hide in a bear cave in one of the dioramas
where it's warm even if it's fake
and maybe the den will have a copy
of Franny and Zooey left by some kid
who found the same hiding place
back when Salinger was alive
and we never thought about him

-CDL

Frank'll Start Things Off

Personal Poem

Now when I walk around at lunchtime
I have only two charms in my pocket
an old Roman coin Mike Kanemitsu gave me
and a bolt-head that broke off a packing case
when I was in Madrid the others never
brought me too much luck though they did
help keep me in New York against coercion
but now I'm happy for a time and interested

I walk through the luminous humidity
passing the House of Seagram with its wet
and its loungers and the construction to
the left that closed the sidewalk if
I ever get to be a construction worker
I'd like to have a silver hat please
and get to Moriarty's where I wait for
LeRoi and hear who wants to be a mover and
shaker the last five years my batting average
is .016 that's that, and LeRoi comes in
and tells me Miles Davis was clubbed 12
times last night outside BIRDLAND by a cop
a lady asks us for a nickel for a terrible
disease but we don't give her one we
don't like terrible diseases, then
we go eat some fish and some ale it's
cool but crowded we don't like Lionel Trilling
we decide, we like Don Allen we don't like
Henry James so much we like Herman Melville
we don't want to be in the poets' walk in
San Francisco even we just want to be rich
and walk on girders in our silver hats
I wonder if one person out of the 8,000,000 is
thinking of me as I shake hands with LeRoi
and buy a strap for my wristwatch and go
back to work happy at the thought possibly so

- Frank O'Hara, 1956