August 2025 | R.M. Usatinsky

POEMOGRAPHY | 2025

Poems by R.M. Usatinsky

pōəˈmäɡrəfē, noun: form or process of writing and representing poetry

AUGUST

01AUG25 | THE ROCK

I’ve never considered myself to

be a rock, the kind of man who

is impenetrable, emotionless and

unshakeable; but that is just how

society has framed modern men,

rocks, the pillars of the world, of

families, enterprise and politics;

but I’m a simple man of simple

pleasures and no need to define

myself through strength and the

brute force of character; but then

I ask myself, isn’t a pebble also

a rock? can a man not be small in

stature, smooth by disposition, and

also carry his weight through good

deeds, backbone and benevolence?

02AUG25 | THE CURE

I am defective in so many ways,

so many imperfections and flaws,

things that stick out more than they

should, things that are twisted and

deformed, things that are missing,

and things that simply don’t work

the way that they used to; I know

that these are the consequences of

aging, but that doesn’t make the pill

any easier to swallow (not even the

tiny one I take each morning meant

to lower my blood pressure); but I

also know that I possess the cure for

much of what ails me—the physical

and emotional alike—and the elixir

is my own determination to survive

03AUG25 | A HEAVENLY BIRTHDAY (FOR DAD)

Today’s the day I knew would soon

arrive, the first birthday without you,

the first year in fifty-five years that

I won’t be seeing you or talking to

you to wish you a happy birthday;

and it will be a hard day for mom

and Glenn especially, for Julie and

Jeff too, I imagine; today would have

been your ninety-third birthday, a life

long lived and lived well, but one that,

like all lives, came to end; but you will

be celebrated today, you will be honored

and remembered, thought about and talked

about and revered as a good man, a good

husband, father and family man, who worked

hard, lived hard, and was always there for us

04AUG25 | THE LONELIEST SEASON

Summer is, for me anyway,

the loneliest season; it is

now and it’s always been;

that my birthday is the last

day of spring—in mid-June—

means I never had a birthday

celebrated at school as where I

grew up, summer vacation was

already in full swing, so not once

did I get to experience my mom

bringing a box of cupcakes from

Gitel’s to school or Affy Tapples

straight from the production line

on Clark Street; my summers were

spent shipped off to summer camp

or L.A. far away from my friends

05AUG25 | LIFE LESSONS

I wonder what good are life lessons

if what they teach is learned too late;

it seems the older I get, the more I

learn, but it’s apparent that I really

don’t know what to do with all that

knowledge; I keep learning and then

storing it all away in some deep recess

in my brain, like a junk drawer filled

with things—useful or not—that are,

from time to time, rummaged through

and contemplated before being chucked

back onto the heap; it’s just too much to

process, so many bits and bytes that my

seven-color wheel just keeps on spinning

and spinning, not even shutting down or

unplugging seems to provoke a re-boot

06AUG25 | DELIBERATE

I’ve been hearing the word

quite a bit lately, mostly in

films that I’ve been watching;

so I wrote it down and took a

long, hard look at it, trying to

transcend its literal meaning,

seeing something much more

profound in my observation;

an there it was, not at first or

second glance, but there when

I said the word out loud that it

became clear: de-liberate, as in

un-liberate; I wondered if I had

the wrong idea all this time, that

maybe I don’t need to be liberated

but more resolute to actually remain

07AUG25 | THE HUGS I NEED

The hugs I need are the ones I

haven’t had for years; the kind

of hugs that seem to never end,

that are so tight it feels as if my

last breath might be wrapped up

inside of them; the hugs I need

don’t happen nearly enough, and

when they do, they always end too

quickly, never lasting long enough

for my heart to heal and for me to

feel the person’s heartbeat; I know

I’m probably expecting too much,

but that doesn’t me I can’t long for

something, ask for something, and

try to get a little something back in

return for all the hugs I’ve missed

08AUG25 | REMEMBERING GLEN

It’s been eight years since you left us;

all the songs, all the memories are still

here and filling our hearts, but what is

missed is wondering what comes next,

what might have come next, what new

song or Netflix special, what tour or

music video; you played such a big

part of my childhood, dad had your

records in his collection, we watched

you on T.V. on your show or on others

and I even picked out my brother’s name

by searching through the T.V. guide and

coming across The Glen Campbell Show

(my folks loved the name but opted for

the double n); I’ll watch your videos for

Wichita Lineman today, like I always do

09AUG25 | A CHICAGO NEIGHBORHOOD

I would make myself invisible

and walk down the streets of a

Chicago neighborhood; perhaps

somewhere near north—Uptown,

Wrigleyville, Lincoln Park—where

I could just blend in with the scenery,

not being seen or heard or crossing

paths with old high school friends or

former students and co-workers; I’d

sit on a bench across the street from

cafés and ice cream parlors watching

people doing everyday things; I’d go

to the park and eavesdrop on lovers

enjoying a picnic, listening to how

they tell each other how much they’re

in love, closing my eyes, lost in a dream

10AUG25 | BLOWOUT

When things happen—especially as dramatic

as this morning’s rear bicycle tire blowout—it

leads me to question everything, life, fate, the

universe; so why not cycle to work on such a

splendid summer morning? why not enjoy the

sunshine and fresh air and get some much needed

exercise?? but my destiny this morning was soon

interrupted by a gunshot-loud blowout, so loud

that every passerby in the vicinity turned their

head (anywhere else in the world they would

have surely scattered for cover); my best guess

is that I over-inflated the tire and/or ran something

over on the bike path; so I left the bike chained to

a bike rack in the village and tomorrow I’ll walk

over and pick it up and take it to my Turkish bike

repair guy; got in a whole heck of a lotta steps today

11AUG25 | WHO I AM (AND WHO I’M NOT)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about

identity—namely my own; who I am

and who I’m not, who others think I

am and who I should be (both in my

eyes and in the eyes of others); maybe

this is something I should have pondered

years ago, when I was a much younger

man, when I was still young enough to

change things, to alter the course of my

life; now, there’s little I can change, I’ve

become too set in my ways, repeating the

same mistakes and not really learning from

them; everything I do know about myself

is disconcerting, I’ve become a creature of

habit, lost (it seems) in these vicious cycles

and patterns of self-doubt and disillusionment

12AUG25 | A RUDE AWAKENING

This was supposed to be a momentous

occasion, but it turned out to be a rude

awakening; I reconnected with my old

yoga teacher from college, an ageless

sort of fellow, a New Yorker from a

Jewish family who became this heroic,

larger-than-life character in my life story,

one who I’ve talked about for the past

four decades; and he’s been my perfect

excuse for not getting back into yoga all

these years (well how could I when I’ve

never found a teacher as good?); so we

made a plan and I had my daughter take

a few photos of my deformed torso to send

over for evaluation, but when I looked at

those photos, the ground shifted beneath me

13AUG25 | GIRTH

Look, let’s face it, aging men

are confronted with one of a

few scenarios; they either get

fat, stay thin, or develop some

chronic debilitating disease; I

fall into the first category as I

have become quite large around

the midsection; it’s what’s known

as subcutaneous belly fat; in my

case it’s a combination of aging,

genetics, caloric imbalance and

stress; of all aging’s woes, this

has been by far the hardest pill

to swallow and occupies more

headspace than I’d like to admit;

fat is definitely not where it’s at

14AUG25 | FUL

I have tried to live a life

that's meaningful, strived

to do the rights things at

all the right moments; I’ve

made an attempt to live a

life that’s purposeful, tried

to live in the service of others,

tried to make a small difference;

I’ve tried to live a mindful life,

being considerate towards my

fellow humans while treating

myself kindly; and I’ve tried to

live a delightful life, enjoying

the best life has to offer, sunny

days, stormy nights, music, film,

family, friends, books and love

15AUG25 | SEGREGATION

There’s really nothing wrong with the

new placemats I bought a few months

ago, other than the fact that I bought

them and of course you simply couldn’t

like anything that I bought that has any

aesthetic quality; so rather than asking

me to return them, you simply do what

any callous person would do, you set the

table putting the placemats I bought

at my place and our middle daughter’s

place (yes, she was with me when I

bought them and due to her beautiful

neurodiversity which you certainly

blame on me) segregating us both at

the far end of the dining table into the

undesirable round placemat society

16AUG25 | ALL’S FAIR

Aging is making me a cynic;

I used to be lighthearted and a

romantic, and a pacifist who

abhorred any sort of violence;

but lately, I have come to see

that even love and war have

two sides that transcend the

obvious; and I suppose that

might mean that I am learning

to hate, to love less and to, in

some form or another, abandon

the idea that I will ever love again;

as for war, I’ve studied history, read

the papers and watched the nightly

newscasts enough to finally understand

that we don’t ever get to pick the winner

17AUG25 | EM DASH

There’s a lot of talk going around

these days about the em dash, that

it’s a dead giveaway for hacks who

use ChatGPT or other AI platforms

to produce writing; but there happens

to be many writers—myself included—

who have used em dashes for years; in

fact, the em dash—so called due to the

fact that its length is the same as the

letter m—is and has always been, and

will always be, my favorite punctuation

mark; I suppose you could say it has the

same function as a comma, but for me,

it’s that little extra pause and—even more

significant—it’s the aesthetic, the way it looks

on the printed page, so dashing and distinguished

18AUG25 | TIME WELL SPENT

These little excursions are never easy,

but they are necessary and, for the most

part, they are thoroughly enjoyable; this

time was a two-nighter at our happy place;

we swam and ate, swam some more, ate

some more, slept, and did it all over again;

night one was a bit of a nightmare as it seems

the guest before us spilled a gallon or two of

some very expensive—very stinky perfume—

all over the place, which kept me up all night

wheezing and gasping for air (the pillow was

both uncomfortable and steeped in fragrance);

but the next day we were upgraded and moved

to a snazzier room with better (but not great)

pillows; these moments I’m able to spend with

my daughters are splendid and time well spent

19AUG25 | TWENTY YEARS (MAYBE MORE)

It was twenty years ago this month (maybe

more) that it all came to an end; I still look

back on that with a sense of bewilderment,

questioning why I never tried to salvage what

had been—in my estimation anyway—a very

good marriage; sure it wasn’t perfect, nothing

ever is, but it was as close to that as it could

have been; I did nothing, said nothing, didn’t

as much as say let’s talk about it, let’s talk to

someone, let’s do something to right the ship;

no, I took no action other than to make sure I’d

get what was mine, what was coming to me, that

I wouldn’t get taken advantage of; but what came

next was a spiral into an abyss I could have never

imagined the likes of; it was death, one that no

efforts could resuscitate, final and forevermore

20AUG25 | MAD DAD

I was hoping my children would

remember me as having been a

fairly happy sort of guy, but from

what I gather, that won’t be the

case; in fact, I believe they will

remember me as being mad for

the most part; they keep things to

themselves out of fear that if they

speak their mind, I will get mad;

I’ve tried time and time again to

explain that I rarely get mad, and

what they observe is my simply

being passionate about things; but

that explanation usually falls upon

deaf ears; so that will be my lasting

legacy, dad was just a mad sort of guy

21AUG25 | FLOATING

I don’t think mine is a water sign,

but I sure do like being in water;

what I really enjoy is floating on

my back; the past few days I spent

at our secret place in Amsterdam

were pleasant and relaxing; the

pool, sauna and steam room were

the perfect remedies, and after we

were upgraded to a deluxe room,

that one night’s sleep was the best,

most deepest I’d had in a long time;

but floating in the pool in silence with

the smell of chlorine in the air had an

almost therapeutic effect, calming my

mind and letting my thoughts turn to

happier times when life was less taxing

22AUG25 | WHAT THE END MUST FEEL LIKE

I’m thinking this is what the end

must feel like; an air of despair,

pain, discomfort, worry, sadness,

and uncertainty; there’s always

that moment from the first time

you surmise that something’s not

right to the moment when your

deepest fears are confirmed; I

suppose there must be a sense of

relief in finally knowing, finally

confirming what you’ve suspected

all along; that doesn’t make things

any easier, but it does settle the score

once and for all; that time comes to

us all so I guess I shouldn’t let myself

be consumed with what I can’t control

23AUG25 | THE WORLD WE LIVE IN

There are strongmen and dictators,

small men with grandiose ambitions

who only look out for themselves and

their closest comrades; these men have

created bubbled lives, untouchable from

the grime of the everyman, the decay of

their rotting cities, crime spurned on by

unemployment and social unrest; and they

live in their palaces enjoying wealth and

opulence while the masses starve and kill

each other for a morsel of bread or clean

drink of water; this is the world we live in,

a cruel, imbalanced, unequal world where

those in power get away with murder, where

rights are usurped and babies thrust from the

arms of their mothers; this is what we’ve become

24AUG25 | THE STRAND

It took me the whole summer,

but I finally made it to the beach;

I’m not sure what motivated me more,

the need to feel grounded and walk

barefoot on the wet sand, to take

some fresh sea air or, as I had long

desired for months, to ride the thing

of beauty—the new Mercedes eCitaroG

18-meter-long articulated busses—that

now run on line 23 from the bus stops

in front of and opposite our house, that go

to both Scheveningen and Kijkduin beaches;

I walked along the shore, contemplating

the wind and overcast skies, then lying

down on a sandy bank trying to take in a

few fleeting moments of solitary tranquility

25AUG25 | THE TRUTH (ABOUT WHY I HATE THE BEACH)

It is sufficient to say

that everyone in my

family was surprised

I went to the beach

yesterday as they are

all convinced that I

hate the beach; truth be

told, I don’t hate it at

all, in fact, I love the

beach, the warm sand

beneath my feet, the

cool calming water,

the breeze and the serene

feelings it induces; what I

hate is going there with my

children for the fear it invokes

26AUG25 | PERPETUAL SADNESS

I don’t know what’s to blame,

it could very well be the films,

the weight of two-hundred and

fifty-three stories; or perhaps it’s

the constant heartache, the loss

and longing that have become my

silent partners; whatever its origins,

it has become a burden of almost

insufferable proportions; there are

the tears and pain so abundant and

real that I often stop to linger in the

suffering if only to remind myself

that at least the agony shows that I

am still alive, still here and present

to bear the unbearable, submitting

myself to this long, arduous journey