June 2021
About Poemography
To commemorate the tenth anniversary of my Poem-A-Day Project, I am reprising my daily poetry challenge in 2021.
Every day this year—from January 1st until the 31st of December—I will create a new poem inspired by whatever moves me at the moment I sit down to compose that day's poem, publishing them here with subscription-free access for all.
Every Tuesday throughout the year, I will write and publish one bonus poem that will be available exclusively to my Patrons on Patreon.
In 2022, I will publish a book of my complete poems, spanning more than 40 years of poetry writing. The complete collection of poems will be published in a limited edition hardbound book available for purchase. As an added feature, I'm considering releasing some of the poems in this collection as spoken word recordings by a variety of special guest readers. Enjoy the year!
30JUN21
Contemplation for a Rainy Day
The intense fervor consigned to living
Every one of life's precious moments
With uncompromising zeal is often a
Most wearing task; but there are few
Things more rewarding or satisfying
Than being fulfilled by the little things
In life; simple fragments that compound
Into the most wondrous of life's events;
I sat outside for a brief moment today
Contemplating the rain as it fell gently
All around me and wondered how many
Raindrops had fallen on my face in those
Few seconds and concluded probably as
Many as all of my life's most cherished
Moments; and I took comfort in the divine
Candor of the rain and purity of its wisdom
29JUN21
25 Years
It's been 25 long years
Since I arrived on the
Old Continent where
My ancestors lived
I wonder what their
Lives were like in
That shtetl way
Back then
What they
Did, what they
Ate for breakfast,
What they spoke about
And their good fortune
Of having been able
To leave before the
Descent into hell
28JUN21
A Poem for Monday
Inconsolably sad as I look around
To see all that will remain after I'm
Gone; an empty chair at the dinner
Table and a few waning memories
I wonder if I have stopped living
Or merely forgotten how to live
Or to enjoy the little things
And precious moments
The human touch is no
Longer a tangible element
And I long for contact, to be
Held in my daughters' gentle arms
But there is hope concealed in the
Sunshine, its welcoming rays have
Greeted me to this new day, where
Clarity peaks through menacing clouds
27JUN21
Leaves of Generations
I've been looking out the same
Window at the same trees for
Nine summers and the June
Leaves always look the same
While I know they're not the
Same, I can't help but think
How they have all come from
The same roots and branches
The leaves of generations live
From season to season, born
Of the spring until autumn's
Chill shepherds their passing
But the highest branches are
Barren, or perhaps what I see
Are the last to bloom; the ones
That will live in my recollection
26JUN21
Bar Mitzvah (June 26, 1976)
It was a sweltering hot day in June 1976
We arrived at the synagogue early I wore
A powder blue Pierre Cardin three-piece suit
And navy blue patent leather and suede loafers
The congregation was packed; the sound of fans
Hummed in heavy humid air; Rabbi Einhorn
And Cantor Kurland led the prayer service;
I was called to the Torah for the blessings
Then it came for me to recite my haftarah,
A reading from one of the books of the
Prophets; mine, from Samuel 11:14,
Was the longest of the summer
It took me nearly forty long and
Arduous minutes to chant the entire
Passage which had to be scrupulously
Transliterated from Hebrew so I could read it
25JUN21
Empty Days
There are empty days
Filled with empty
Thoughts and
Sadness
When I
Can't even
Hear my own
Voice in the void
Days that have no
Beginning and
No end in
Sight
Only the
Picture of us
In its lonely frame
Brings the subtlest joy
24JUN21
Croque Monsieur
I close my eyes and dream
About numbers and things
I cannot see with my eyes;
People I knew so long ago
I keep returning to the hotel
Where my room is always
On the second floor, where
The lift never seems to work
The staff seem to remember
When I was their teacher a
Few years before and they
Treat me with lofty regard
Downstairs in the posh café
A waiter in a white jacket
Serves me a croque monsieur
I throw the ham to the floor
23JUN21
Drifters
It was sometime in the late autumn in 1981
I had recently moved to Scottsdale, Arizona
Was driving around with a friend when we
Stopped by his father's dry cleaning shop
We walked into the back on that sweltering
Afternoon; my friend introduced me to a guy
Named Les or Wes who he later told me was
A drifter that his father had hired years ago
Nine months living in Arizona, I met a lot of
Guys like Les, transients, ex-cons and derelicts
Disheveled men with five-day beards, mouths
Reeking of alcohol and leftover Mexican food
The skin on their leathery faces was worn and
Wrinkled; some were scarred and others had
Deep lines, pockmarks, hollow cheeks and the
Saddest most woebegone eyes I had ever seen
22JUN21
Abigail
It's not that I don't remember the date
But you'll understand it's a bitter one;
One I recall with somber recollections
Of those who are no longer among us
But the memory of you and me in Paris
Has endured through the decades and
Thoughts of you always brings a smile
To my lips that, long ago, kissed yours
I've picked up the phone to call you so
Many times over the years; to hear your
Voice just one more time and ask about
Your life, your work and beautiful family
I was delighted to hear from your sister
Who told me you had become a doctor
And that you mention me every year on
The birthday I share with your daughter
21JUN21
Saigon
I thought I recognized you from that café in Saigon
The pretty girl who bumped into me and made me
Spill my coffee on a dog who quickly darted away
And ran out the door and down the crowded street
You apologized in broken English and insisted that
I accept your invitation to have a meal at the house
You shared with your sister and elderly grandmother
How could I have said no to such a lovely invitation
You wrote your address on a page in my Moleskine
Notebook and drew a map with detailed instructions
You asked me to arrive promptly at half past three
When I arrived there was a note taped to the door
The note said you had to go off to the countryside
To visit a friend who needed consolation after her
Father had passed; as I slowly walked away I saw
You looking at me from behind white sheer curtains
20JUN21
Solstice
My next voyage around the sun has begun today
The day our brightest star is at its highest point in
The sky; and as is the case about every five years
Or so, today also happens to be Father's Day
These three milestones provoke strong emotions:
Reminding me that spring is finally giving way
To summer while life continues to wane and my
Pursuit of being of good father remains far-flung
And so I take stock, look back and contemplate
The years gone by; birthdays never celebrated
At school; some spent in innocent betrayal and
Others filled with love, tenderness and passion
The midsummer is a time of deep introspection
When I oftentimes juxtapose my self-value, my
Merits as a father, son, brother and husband,
Like long-cast shadows of the summer solstice
19JUN21
Acceptance
I have lived a life so very far removed
From the one I thought I would live;
And I'm certain I'm not the only
Soul to share that sentiment
Perhaps it was my lack of
Vision or my inability to clearly
Contemplate the life I wanted to create
For myself and those who I love so dearly
But there comes a moment in one's life
When you accept reality for what it
Really is and only then the whole
Thing suddenly makes sense
And if it's not too late; if you
Haven't already missed the boat
The wind can still catch your sails and
Carry you off to shores of infinite happiness
18JUN21
Sweet
There was a small croissant shop on Doctor Moliner
I would go there each morning for pain au chocolat
That I'd meticulously cut into quarters picking up each
Piece then dunking them into my cup of café con leche
I stood alone at the narrow wooden counter on the wall
There was a small plastic sugar packet organizer filled
With white and brown sugar, thinner pink sachets with
Artificial sweetener and demitasse spoons for stirring
One particular day a middle-aged woman walked into
The croissant shop and ordered coffee and a caracola
She was perhaps the saddest person I had ever seen
And I could not help but wonder why she was forlorn
Before leaving, she removed two blue packets of sugar
From her small handbag, placing them in the organizer;
The next day, the woman's husband died from a heart
Attack while taking his morning coffee at the same café
17JUN21
1977
The Police, Talking Heads, Kate Bush and The Clash
The deaths of Elvis, Chaplin, Groucho and Nabokov
The Apple II went on sale and the Concord took off
Jimmy Carter is sworn in and Roots premieres on TV
On June 17th, three days before my 14th birthday,
I graduated from DeWitt Clinton Elementary School
Pelé played his final match and Rumours is released
A.J. Foyt won the Indianapolis 500 in his Coyote 75
Eleven die on Chicago's "L" and 56 wounded in the
Humboldt Park Riots; dad took me to see Star Wars
At the Nortown Theater and Voyager 1 is launched;
The Blizzard of '77 dumps over 82 inches of snow
This was a defining year in my life; I would start
High school and fall in love for the first time; we
Moved to Washtenaw where I had my own room
And I bought my first bass guitar at Devon Music
16JUN21
Coming to Terms
Coming to terms doesn't mean surrendering or
Being defeated; it doesn't signify failure or
The demise of purpose or that dreams
Can no longer be dreamed
Coming to terms is not a sacrifice
An endgame or an aftermath; in fact,
It's a clean slate, a point of departure
A renewal of the spirit and its longing to be
Coming to terms is an affirmation of strength
It unites the heart, mind, soul and body
Fostering a life teeming with harmony,
Wisdom, love, zeal and plenty
Coming to terms is maturity in its
Ultimate manifestation; it illuminates
What darkness was unable keep secluded
It elevates us to the highest reaches of our potential
15JUN21
Histamine
Wheezing, sneezing, red watery eyes
Five o'clock in the morning zoomies
Galloping upstairs, climbing on
Dressers and wardrobes
The litter box shuffle
Cha-cha-cha straight out of
Arthur Murray and what can you
Possibly be doing in there all that time?
The purring and head frotter I am not an
Object to be used like a doorpost
Or the sofa corner which now
Has prominent smudges
And the histamine rages
The nose runs and tissues pile
Up on my desk; kibble crunching
Murmurs and meows and daybreak comes
14JUN21
Ode to Joy
What was Schiller thinking about on that
Summer day in Leipzig in 1785? Some say
It was a woman, others say it was freedom
Either way they are both what all men seek
And what is joy if not a hidden treasure or
Some long-lost remnant of the past, swelling
In the caverns of a memory when innocence
Was a guiding light and passion ever-present
I may not be the first thing you're looking for
But I certainly will be the last; how far must I
Travel to know when the journey has come to
Its end? Perhaps it's where truth meets reason
Maybe it's safe to say that joy doesn't exist;
That bliss and redemption are merely ways
Of glossing over the pain, coming to grips
With the harsh reality that nothing is sacred
13JUN21
El Lago
I wonder what the last thought
On her mind was as she fell to
The ground at ninety miles per
Hour early that Friday morning
And what it was that led to her
Going up to the rooftop to take
That leap into the abyss of the
Valley of the shadow of death
I imagine her standing there in
The darkness, a gentle breeze
Drifting in from over the lake; a
Moment of calm contemplation
And what about poor Lloyd, who
Recently started working there and
Bearing the ghastly sight of seeing
Her splattered on Sheridan Road
12JUN21
Resident Alien
I belong to nothing, to no one, to nowhere
Born in a country not of my own choosing
To whose allegiance I pledged in a school
I would rather have not attended as a child
My wallet conceals a small plastic card; it
Gives me permission to reside in a country
Where I possess physical characteristics in
Concordance with the citizens of that land
But I couldn't be any different or any more
Foreign; and I have learned that resembling
Someone doesn't make your sensibilities or
Worldview the same; and it never ever does
The only place in which I really truly live is
In my skin; my universe of floating, pulsing
Organs residing within the twisted frame of
A dysmorphic and ever-inhospitable skeleton
11JUN21
Moochie (For Cassia)
It's been ten years since that night you came to us
You hurried into the world eager to begin your
Adventure; the midwife forgot the hot water
Bottle and almost missed the occasion
You were the first (but not the last) to
Be born at home and in our bed; I'd never
Experienced anything so natural and so serene
As a life beginning so calmly, quietly and wondrously
And through the years you have never ceased creating
An enduring sense of uniqueness; the embodiment
Of a soul living its life to the fullest, with verve,
Tenacious intensity and wild exuberance
Today, as you begin the next decade of
Your life, I say a prayer that the years to come
Are filled with all the joy, delight, wonder and magic
You deserve; and remember, the wand chooses the wizard
10JUN21
The Heat is On
I don't do well with extreme temperatures
Growing up in Chicago with unbearably
Frigid winters and balmy warm summers
Ups and downs and seasonal depression
I've lived in the scalding Arizona desert
Under the hot San Fernando Valley sun
The four seasons in one day in Liverpool
And swampy humidity of Valencia, Spain
And for eleven summers I have lived here
In the Netherlands, a place where the only
Predicable thing is the unpredictability and
Frequently underwhelming event of weather
It's a place where, despite what the reports
And apps forecast, the only way to know if
It's going to rain is to step outside or, more
Certain, leave home without your umbrella
09JUN21
I Never Called You Deborah
Supposing you really were in love with me
I mean it was pretty obvious from the start
Your words, actions, gestures of kindness
How was it that I didn't ever reciprocate
And how many times did you come over
To comfort me, care for me, cook for me
Run to the 24-hour Ralph's in the middle
Of the night for ice cream and brownies
And you stayed with me until I fell asleep
Quietly letting yourself out of my house to
Make your way back to Seal Beach when
I knew all you wanted was to stay with me
How I'd love to go back in time, to 1986,
And talk some sense into my younger self
Tell him that a woman like you only comes
Around once in a lifetime, if they come at all
08JUN21
Hellín
I've been there
Though it was many
Years ago; a place that
No one has heard of or been to
A city in the province of Albacete
A non-descript place that
Looks like so many
Ordinary cities
Despite the sun
It is a dismal place
Apartment blocks where
Insignificant people quietly exist
I knew a woman from there who
Lost her father, brother
And husband in
The Civil War
07JUN21
Together Again
So, that was it; that was the best
You could do, come to me in a dream
Barging into my home unannounced to offer
A poor excuse of a thinly-veiled insincere apology
When I woke up and wiped the sleep from my eyes
I was suddenly overcome with the profound
Sensation that, despite having only been
A dream, we were together again
There are days when I'm resigned to
The idea that we may never be reunited
That my (our your) untimely death may keep
Us sundered until our reunion in the kingdom come
Until then, I will try to not be so hard on myself; be a
Little more forgiving of my many shortcomings
And try, for whatever it's worth, to not
Let go of all our cherished memories
06JUN21
Homebody
I've run out of excuses and lies to tell myself;
Moved my desk in front of the window
Where green leaves and blue skies
Welcome me into their haven
Not even the sun's warmth
Or the cool soothing breeze
Can tempt me out of these walls
Where I am a safe and harbored homebody
I scuffle with the noise and chaos of rowdy
Children; piles of clean laundry,
The squalor of my negligence
And outright exhaustion
I've fallen deeper than I
Had earlier surmised; but there
Is comfort in knowing one's affliction
And in the promise that renewal is close at hand
05JUN21
The Perfect Day
The cool breeze
Slicing in through my
Bedroom window at 4 a.m.
Daybreak's silence awakens me
The sun concealed and sleeping
My children fast asleep
In their beds upstairs
Miracles abound
The perfect day
Leaves and willows
Croissants and coffee
Still water and secret messages
The jumbled stories in my mind
Floating lines in tightly
Closed eyes; visions
Into the future
04JUN21
Mr. Bigelow
I stood waiting by your door
At least for an hour or more
Then the rain began to pour
You arrived at half past four
Invited me in for a cup of tea
Toasted bread, jam and brie
Took a nice stroll by the sea
Spoke to a tolerable degree
Clouds gave way to sunlight
Thinking back with hindsight
Should have met at midnight
When my alibi'd be airtight
And I was never seen again
By strangers, foes or friends
Mr. Bigelow steadily defends
His innocence to the very end
03JUN21
Sawing Sawdust
I've learned a lot about myself lately
That what hasn't killed me already
Probably won't; and sawing
Sawdust is to no avail
I've learned that while
Pain is a pretty convincing
Equalizer, it can be confronted
And tamed and frequently appeased
I've come to hold a deep appreciation
Of the fragility of life and, at the
Same time, an understanding
Of what courage means
And I love myself more
Today than I did yesterday;
The colors are more vivid and
The birdsong an uplifting soliloquy
02JUN21
Ambivalence
I know I'm doing the right thing
But that doesn't quell the anxiety;
I suppose it's the idea of having a
Foreign substance injected into me
And that hasn't happened since the
Late 1970s when I ripped open the
Palm of my left hand after snagging
It on a protruding rusty masonry nail
I was riding my bike and glided my
Hand across the brick façade of the
Apartment at the end of Washtenaw
When the nail caught me by surprise
My mother took me to the ER where I
Was given a tetanus shot just for good
Measure; a thin white scar still remains
As will the stories of what today brings
01JUN21
That Night in Piedmont
I'm sorry you had to see me crying
Standing there alone wallowing in
The despair of the greatest sorrow
I had ever known in all of my life
But you came and placed a gentle
Hand on my shoulder and asked if
There was anything you could say
Or do that might ease my suffering
I looked into your large brown eyes
And recognized something familiar;
It was like I had known you for years
You made me feel loved and wanted
You took me home to your parent's
House in Piedmont, I slept on your
Bed as your softly stroked my hair
Awaking reborn in your embrace