POEMOGRAPHY | 2025
Poems by R.M. Usatinsky
pōəˈmäɡrəfē, noun: form or process of writing and representing poetry
APRIL
01APR25 | EQUALIBRIUM
That’s what I’m after, balance, where
both sides of the scale are levelled off,
the place where like parts meet in the
middle to attain equilibrium and some
semblance of harmony so that my life
remains balanced and in sync; but then
again, I wonder if being just slightly off
kilter produces a different kind of subtle
equanimity, one where imbalance offsets
affliction, discombobulation and anxiety;
maybe it’s there, hidden in a black hole of
complexity where day meets night, darkness
encounters light and where good and bad,
love and hate and life and death converge
to create the elements of the origins of the
universe and a force of endless equilibrium
02APR25 | SHE HATES US BOTH
You know she hates us both, don’t you?
she won’t let you in on her little secret
though she’s made a clear decision to
cut me out of her life while using you
for whatever a child needs a mother for;
she hates us both because she knows we
brought her into this world selfishly, to
get what was needed and missing from
our own sad lives at the time; she hates us
because we gave her a life she never asked
for, and she knows she was born not out of
love but out of lust and desire for carnal
pleasures; she hates us for hating each other,
for hating who we have become; and she hates
us for growing older, for becoming indifferent,
obese and obtuse; for becoming these strangers
03APR25 | THE BUBBLE
I was talking to someone the other day,
telling them about my life and all of my
experiences over the last four decades;
the other person said it seemed like I was
able to create an ideal life for myself on
my own terms, create my own universe or
bubble as he put it, safe, impenetrable and,
from his point of view, quite envious; that
brief conversation made me reflect for a
moment; bubbles are anything but safe,
they’re ever so fragile and vulnerable and
can burst in a split second; then I realized
the safe, impenetrable world I built wasn’t
all that safe or impenetrable after all, that it
had always been—and always will be—on
the brink of being obliterated without notice
04APR25 | BORDERLINE
I guess being diagnosed with any
condition can carry the stigma of
being seen as broken, difficult, or
permanently flawed, when in reality,
it often just means being human in a
way that needs understanding without
judgment; I’ve always questioned my
borderline diagnosis, especially seeing
that it was pronounced during a time of
great duress and emotional upheaval; it
was shortly after my neighbor took his
own life and a time where my life was
beginning to unravel in more ways than
one; I saw that film with Winona Ryder
last week and it got me to pause for a
moment and ponder deeply about things
05APR25 | BUILDING A SUSTAINABLE LIFE (FOR E.B.)
Yesterday’s doctor visit didn’t exactly go as
planned; after one month off meds, my blood
pressure was off the charts; my GP said, So
back on the medication then? No, I replied
firmly; I feel great, better than I have these
past few years I’ve been on the meds (and all
the different varieties that only made me sick
and only slightly lowered my blood pressure);
my thinking was, why go back to the lethargy,
brain fog, wheezing, getting up to pee three
times in the middle of the night? so no, not
going back there…but later that night it hit me;
the silent killer, and I’ve just given it the green
light; so I decided to get back on the meds and to
continue trying to build a sustainable life, for me,
for my kids, and for every good reason to do it
06APR25 | MORE DREAMS ABOUT DRIVING
I have lots of car dreams and dreams about driving;
perhaps it’s because I miss driving; perhaps it’s
because I haven’t had a valid driver’s license in more
than twenty years; the last time I drove a car was in
2011 when I had a few lessons in preparation for
taking my Dutch driving exam (which I took and
failed twice—in English no less); a common theme
in my driving dreams is that the breaks never seem
to function properly—or not at all—leaving me in a
pickle and oftentimes floundering to save myself from
crashing into the car in front of me; I guess if you want
to delve deep and interpret that as “control issues,” be
my guest, I try not thinking too much about what’s
behind the dreams and simply relish in my ability to
recall them and write many of them down—hundreds
in fact—over the past five or six years as I’ve done
07APR25 | ALONENESS
Being lonely sucks, but being alone
is divine; finding middle ground is
harder still; I walked home from my
morning shift, the city was quiet as
Mondays always are, tourists, young
families wandering about; and as I
walked down the sidewalk I suddenly
felt alone and wondered what my life
would be like if I was truly alone, no
family, no kids, no friends, just me and
my thoughts living in a two room flat,
like the one I rented in Lincoln Park
when I was at school; to be free from
responsibilities, to not have others that
I constantly worry about; what bliss I
thought to myself to live without angst
08APR25 | I FOUND THE AVOCADO
Last night I saw the avocado sitting there on
the kitchen counter; instinctually I imagined
you might hide it from me in the morning
knowing I’ve been including them in my new
breakfast routine; but this particular avocado
was one that you bought and god forbid should
I eat it; sure I was disappointed to see the avocado
wasn't there, and maybe someone else ate it for
breakfast; but no, I would have seen evidence of
that in the garbage bin or sink; so I decided to have
a look around as it wouldn’t be the first time you’d
hidden things from me; low and behold there it was,
on the dish rack in the bamboo bowl (designated for
the half dozen bags of chips that usually occupy it);
and I ate it and thoroughly unenjoyed it; it made my
breakfast unpleasant, so you won that round either way
09APR25 | HAPPINESS
It eventually happens: the discovery of
what (or what not) makes people happy;
we spend most of our lives searching for
it and I have to imagine that many never
find it (though I’d like to think most do);
and it happened to me today in the most
unexpected way; there I was, walking
down the street with one of my daughters,
we were walking to the tram stop on our
way to school when it happened, that one
moment out of a million when I seemed
to get the joke, seemed to realize that the
whole thing—this search for happiness—
was actually searching for me all along;
and the funny part of it, what makes it all
so ironic, is that I’d been there all the time
10APR25 | THE REGRET YOU’LL BEAR
It saddens me deeply when I think of the regret
you’ll bear, the burden you will carry around for
the rest of your life; the one that will stay with you
until the last breath of anguish leaves your lungs;
and I don’t say it to be harsh or cantankerous, but to
merely let you know what you’ve set yourself up for;
you see, I’ve stopped accepting the blame for your
agony, stopped feeling guilty and riddled with remorse
and have begun the slow, long process of untethering
the pain you’ve caused me and transforming it into fond
memories of the past when we were whole, connected,
a loving, caring family; what years I have left will be
lived with the most beautiful memories of us, from the
day you came into this world and into my arms and every
single moment I treasured, proud to be your father; the same
memories you chose to replace with bitterness and resentment
11APR25 | HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
I think that human knowledge should be
shared; that’s to say, we should all know
everything everyone else knows; I mean,
we all have access to the same information,
the same books, internet and other sources
of knowledge; and if we examine how very
small our world is, how minute in the grand
scheme of things and how completely and
magnificently insignificant we are floating
around in the vastness of this immeasurable
universe, that it astounds me that every single
human being on the face of the planet doesn’t
know who Stewart Copeland is, or what flow
cytometry is, or on what day Paul McCartney’s
birthday is; how is it that some of us know more
than others while others know less than we do?
12APR25 | EQUITY
If you had done the right thing,
had any sense of morality or
humanity, you would have been
honest and forthcoming about
what you really intended to do
and why you wanted to do it;
true, I probably wouldn’t have
gone along with it, but you played
me well, like a real con artist would;
I wonder what was going through your
mind as you sat there in the notary’s
office watching me initial page after
page and sign on every dotted line;
I was given nothing, no dignity, no
equity and certainly no respect or
consideration for my life or future
13APR25 | THE HOUSE AND EVERYTHING IN IT
I don’t dispute that the house and
everything in it—except for a few
personal possessions—are yours;
yes, the dining table, chairs, sofas
(those atrocities that belonged to a
dead woman in Limburg), beds and
everything else are yours (and of
course your heirs); and the house
itself, the one I found, chose to be
our family home, the one I don’t
actually own any part of (though I
will be permitted to dwell there in
the unfortunate event of your death
until the last of your heirs turns 18);
so hum a happy tune, you own it all
and all the insignificance of its worth
14APR25 | CROSSED WIRES
There are so many facets to aging
that I can’t seem to keep them all
straight; in fact, there are quite a
few things I’m having difficulty
keeping straight these days, one of
them is my customers, more plainly,
my customers’ stories which I keep
mixing up; last week it was a case of
confusing where a customer’s partner’s
parents lived: they’re coming over from
the Middle East, I asked; they’re from
Greece, he replied; and tonight it was the
guy who I thought told me all these stories
about his dating escapades (he’s a dating
coach); but tonight’s guy has been with his
Swedish girlfriend for more than eight years
15APR25 | A MORNING ROUTINE
I wake up and swish a tablespoon of
coconut oil around in my mouth for
fifteen minutes, spit it out then gargle
with warm salt water; then I drink a
glass of water, take my blood pressure
medication and head out for a short but
purposeful walk down to the waterway
and back again through the park; next
is breakfast, two or three soft-boiled
eggs and a ripe avocado drizzled with
extra virgin olive oil and a dash of salt
or nutritional yeast; two slices of organic
spelt sourdough toast with apricot jam or
date syrup and a cup of tea with a splash
of oat milk; then a 1000-milligram capsule
of Vitamin C and another a B vitamin mix
16APR25 | CAN’T BE UNSEEN
I’ve already watched 114 films since
the first of January (my challenge is
to watch a film a day for the whole of
2025!); I’ve seen some truly brilliant
films so far, beautifully made and so
wonderfully interpreted; each one has
enlivened and enriched me and until
yesterday only one has left what I am
hoping won’t be an indelible lesion
upon my soul; I shouldn’t have even
seen that film as I said no shorts or
animations or dubbed or subtitled or
foreign films other than those where
Spanish is spoken; but what I saw on
screen yesterday I should have never
seen and hope the vision quickly fades
17APR25 | ASTONISHED
I astonish myself at how utterly
sensitive I’ve become; it takes
very little to turn me into a total
sobbing mess—baseball games,
romcoms (almost any film, if I’m
to be totally honest), books, music
and, especially over the last thirty-
six hours, Emma, our cat, who
suffered a health scare yesterday
which I—astonishingly—managed
to navigate getting her quickly and
safely to the veterinary clinic (by
riding my bike with one hand and
holding Emma in her carrier in the
other; life is becoming so seemingly
onerous and overwhelming these days
18APR25 | I AM BRUCE LEE
You were the closest thing I had to a best
friend (since childhood); we hit it off from
the moment we met at the Mercado de Colón
after I called you when I saw your ad on the
notice board at the music shop; everything
jibed—our musical tastes, our voices and the
rare and sordid sense of humor we shared; and
what about all those moments of crazed laughter?
we lost our marbles when we saw that little dog
with its tongue out, the hysterical moments at
VIPS, you recounting a moment of indiscretion
with a young woman in a car out in the country;
the first time I heard (you say) the word jobsworth,
I laughed so hard I thought I would have a heart
attack right there on the pavement on the Gran Vía;
those were good times, one’s I’ll always remember
19APR25 | ST. GERTUDE OF NIVELLES (FOR TRA)
The patron saint of cats
(but more likely of mice
and rats); in any case, I
think I may have found
my own St. Gertrude of
Nivelles, far away and a
dozen or more centuries
ago from the 7th century
abbess who, along with
her mother, founded the
Abbey of Nivelles, now
in present-day Belgium;
and my Vietnamese saint
came to my aid in a time
of great hardship bringing
solace to me and my cat
20APR25 | THE ABSENCE OF LIGHT
It’s easier to see in the light,
to observe the observable, to
gain clarity of that which is
illuminated; but the absence
of light obscures reality and
casts a pall of doubt, deceit
and discord like a flickering
bulb or dying ember whose
flame has recoiled leaving
smoke, ash and the memory
of its burning existence; and
like you, there are only a few
subtle reminders of a fire that
once burned, charred remains
of what you used to be, once,
when light radiated from you
21APR25 | IN QUIET SILENCE
In quiet silence I sit
watching as a bug
dances across the
window; sometimes
the silence is too much
to bear, maddening; I
can hear the sound of
a tear exploding from
my eye, it rumbles like
a boulder thundering down
in an avalanche rolling off
of my cheek and splattering
upon the one remaining arm
of my wooden chair, I wipe
it dry with the sleeve of my
shirt and silence is restored
22APR25 | IF YOU ONLY KNEW
If you only knew how much you stink,
how even though you discharged that
last big drag of your cigarette before
you got on the bus, that smoke still
wafted out of your vile, stench-ridden
mouth and nose; that your clothing reeks,
and everything you wear is soiled and
impregnated with tar and nicotine residue;
that you offend everyone in your presence
(even the ones who don’t actually realize it);
that yours is the most anti-social behavior
there is; if you only knew how utterly rude
and disgusting you are—to smoke so carefreely
in the bus or tram stop shelter (even worse when
it’s raining)—you would know what an absolutely
insensitive, boorish nuisance of a person you are
23APR25 | SAPLINGS IN BLOOM
The saplings that replaced
the trees removed in front
of our house last year for the
street renovation are in full bloom;
their wine-colored leaves burst out
onto their thin branches seemingly
overnight after a downpour that
roused the blooms on every tree on
our street to awaken from their winter
slumber; our entire neighborhood is
now alive with greenery and multi-
colored flora, the sidewalks blanketed
with polychromatic petals, leaves and
golden pollen float gently on the canal’s
surface while birds sing cheerful songs
in praise of the spring and new beginnings
24APR25 | MY EXTRAORDINARY LIFE
I’ve always loved the word extraordinary;
it especially resonates with me because of
the fact it can be interpreted in two ways:
extraordinary, as in amazing, exceptional,
sensational; or read extra-ordinary, as in
remarkably ordinary; I actually prefer the
second reading as I tend to define my life
as being quite an un-remarkable one (in a
Forrest Gump sort of way, as in been there,
done that!); but on the other hand, I have
been blessed with a life of good health, love,
work, education, friends, music, books, films,
plays and my beloved Chicago Cubs; so why
can’t I except that my life has been so abundant?
maybe because the abundance of disappointments
have been just as extraordinary as the joyful ones
25APR25 | RENEWAL
Spring is a time of renewal;
so I did this thing today, not
exactly a ritual of spring, but
perhaps in some small unusual
way a rite of passage of its own;
I bought a set of kitchen knives,
in fact the first set of knives I’ve
acquired in more than a dozen
years; the set comprises six knives:
a chef’s knife, bread knife, slicing
knife, utility knife, paring knife and,
one I’ve never owned and that is
pretty trendy these days in Western
kitchens: the Santoku knife, a versatile
Japanese kitchen knife with a broad
slightly curved blade; ready to slice
26APR25 | SAL MINEO
There’s no good reason (other than
the ingestion of tomato soup) that I
would dream about Sal Mineo; but
I did, and saw the dried blood on the
carport floor, the fading chalk outline
of the body and remnants of cigarette
butts and spent flashbulbs scattered
about the alleyway left behind by
detectives and notebook-scribbling
reporters; and when I woke up from
that stranger-than-usual middle of the
night featurette, I quickly reached out
for my smartphone and perused the
murdered actor’s Wikipedia entry
looking for any evidence of what it
was that may have induced that dream
27APR25 | A LIFE OF MERE APPEARANCES
It’s a shame no one will ever get to know
the real you; because that person doesn’t
exist (and I’m not sure they ever did); all
there is are mere appearances of who you
want people to think you are: the loving
daughter, doting mother, compassionate
wife, committed professional; but you’re
none of those because you lack the basic
human values required to be those; I used
to think your indisposition was due to some
childhood trauma, bullying or strict upbringing,
but I’ve come to realize that you can’t blame
the cow for spoiled milk, that maybe you’re
just an anomaly, a purely flawed, miserable,
contemptible person who lacks compassion,
joy, love or any worthy redeeming qualities
28APR25 | IT CREEPS UP
It creeps up on me
always when I least
expect it; never pain
but always some sort
of discomfort, enough
to make me aware of
its presence; it’s like
time, always passing
too quickly though not
quickly enough; it’s
tingling and numb and
feels like water rushing
down the side of a hill;
it’s there then it’s not; I
wish it would just go and
stop reminding of death
29APR25 | WHEN THE LAST SOLDIER COMES HOME
What will have been accomplished
when the last soldier comes home?
the men in power will still be in
their gilded houses wearing their
bespoke suits and custom Italian-
made shoes; they’ll have the exact
same balance in their offshore bank
accounts and the same dubious cronies,
mistresses and penchant for power; but
when the last soldier comes home, we
must remember the thousands who did
not, and never will; it’s a hideous thing,
war is, but just as sure as the sun will
rise and fall, so will the battles and so
will the men who send other men into
battle until the last soldier comes home
30APR25 | MORTALITY
You could say I’ve been mildly
obsessed with my own morality
for years; the idea that all this
will eventually come to an end
has never sat well with me; but
now, as I head into the twilight
of my life, time feels fleeting and
my body seems to be sending me
messages that I’m simply unable to
interpret; while no one knows what
lies ahead in the great beyond, what
troubles me more is what leads up to
the crossing from one world to the
next—it’s the dying I’m afraid of,
not death—the suffering, for myself
and for those who I will leave behind