Car to Laguardia

Cab driver young white boy
Steve from Staten Island
He had a girlfriend named Angela no angel
Said Steve they broke up 3 years ago.
Angela sent him a letter
When his son Luke
Was 2 weeks old.
Steve sees Luke
On Sundays.

Dear Friends and Non-Friends Can We Be Non-Friends Who Read These Posts

So I made a mistake last week, and I’m here to explain. Because of these sentences, these poems and then, your comments and answers, I feel that we have made a funny community here and I want to tell you what happened. Even though it’s Sunday.

I went to a poet’s retreat in Mexico for 8 days, and what I wanted was to write about WHAT HAPPENED, in poems. For me most of what happens always is the people who happen, and what they say, and how what they say connects me (or doesn’t) to them. But I wasn’t taking my lap top because it’s heavy and this trip was an experiment in not taking anything much except many pens and earrings and notebooks. And I couldn’t write about the trip and the people and What Did and Didn’t Happen so I asked Ilana who helps me here (I don’t even really understand where HERE is) to post 5 pieces of poems that weren’t really poems and that wasn’t a good idea and I couldn’t change the process because Ilana was in Jerusalem and though it DOESN’T MATTER NOT REALLY because everyone can have a Bad Online WEEK I wanted to explain today and to tell you that tomorrow I will describe WHAT HAPPENED, again.

Today when I went onto the computer even my password here did not remember me, and I had to start this process all over again. So This Is It.

Subway Strangers

I often meet strangers

on the subway and sometimes

I intend to see them again.

Yesterday I met a man

who said his grandmother

died in 1967 at the age of 92.

She was born in France.

What a bitch he said.

Still she had 3 husbands.

I had to leave the train

in the middle of his story.

He gave me his card

In case I wanted to hear more.

 

I Am Going Away

“Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.”
Kurt Vonnegut

I am going
away on my own
away from my
thousands of possessions
books papers my button
collection my grandmother
collected buttons too
I have chosen ten earrings
ten days
I couldn’t take blue ones
I am trying to be
unencumbered I fail
at unencumbered
naturally encumbered
I want twenty pairs.
Books too I had to choose couldn’t download
six because I’d feel
I would have to read all six
I might not have time to read
so I chose two. I tried
taking just two of everything
two pairs of pants two shirts
two notebooks what if they’re
not the right two?
When I was young
I traveled a lot. All I needed
were earrings and perfume.
Today because I am
carrying on my luggage
I can’t take my perfume.
But I am going away
going to Mexico to poem.
Last year I tried to go.
Three storms in a row.
But this year, it’s a beautiful
day. My plane is on time.
I have chosen my earrings.

They may not be
the right two.

FACEBOOK POEMS, New Years Day

Dear Esther

Can I call you Esther?
If not, what should I
call you? Do you like the name Esther?
If you don’t, can you
tell me why not? In that way
I will get to know you. And you
will get to know me. Do you
want to do that? Let’s start
there. My hope is that you and I
have a lot in common. That’s what
Facebook leads me to believe
By the way my name is Murray.
You can call me Murray. Or
anything else that you prefer.
Happy New Year, by the way.
Murray

Yes Maybe Never

I keep thinking I should
write a Resolution poem
what I’d like to do
but never will.
Enormous list of impossibilities.
Tango Lessons. Portuguese.
My friend Linda
gave me some advice
before she died.
Resolutions should
be mindless and simple.
Polishing your nails red.
I will never learn Mandarin
never do yoga every day
never throw out the thousands
of pieces of paper I keep in a friendly
hopeful mound never accept
the word never. In my head
I replace it with maybe.

(If send me your
resolutions. I will save
them for a year. Maybe
sending resolutions
could be its own resolution.
One we can all do.)

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