POEMOGRAPHY | 2023
Poems by R.M. Usatinsky
pōəˈmäɡrəfē, noun: form or process of writing and representing poetry
APRIL
01APR23 | PLAY BALL
I've waited all winter for this moment
opening day when the teams take the
field and the excitement that has been
mounting all these months is palpable
my love affair with America's pastime
has been lifelong and though I've lived
abroad for nearly 30 years, I still relish
in watching the boys of summer on TV
and this summer, at the end of June, I'll
be traveling to England with my youngest
daughter to see my beloved Chicago Cubs
playing their archrival Cardinals in London
as I count the days until we board the train in
Rotterdam, the anticipation literally keeps me
up at night, my mitt and royal blue cap close at
hand and my childhood dreams even closer still
02APR23 | CALIFORNIA DREAMIN'
I've been dreaming a lot about California
lately, driving (as I do in many dreams)
down Ventura Boulevard in my yellow
MGB convertible with the top down
I drive past In-N-Out Burger with a bit
of sadness remembering how often I
would grab a Double-Double and fries
after work on my way home to Studio City
sad, because I am conscious of the fact I
haven't eaten meat in over thirty years; but I
cautiously make an illegal U-turn and double
back to order fries and a vanilla milkshake
I drive up to Mulholland and dip my fries in
the shake as I watch the sun setting over the
valley; just then, Nancy appears, removes her
wig and throws it into the car and walks away
03APR23 | DISORDER
I'm starting to put the pieces of the puzzle
together; beginning to see past the veil of
what has clouded my very being for years
and it seems as if a re-birth is in the offing
while I've never been one for labels or
placing too much trust in pseudosciences,
it appears as though I may have found the
answer to some of my most asked questions
as I've been delving into uncharted waters,
I'm more and more convinced that all of
the disorder in my life may actually stem
from an actual disorder; or so it seems
so, I'll see what my GP has to say about this
latest notion, to which her eyes will surely roll;
but lately she's been an ally, willing to appease
my whims and requests; if only to capitulate
04APR23 | FRIEDMAN
I was sent on a secret mission; well, maybe
it wasn't a secret mission but it was surely a
sacred mission seeing how I was entrusted by
a rabbi to deliver five special boxes of matzah
and not just any matzah, but shmurah matzah
round crackers for Passover baked under strict
supervision to avoid any possibility of the bread
rising; these were carefully packed in bubble wrap
arriving at Friedman's apartment he greeted me
in disheveled tracksuit bottoms and a blue nylon
schmattah pulled tightly over his head; opening
the door wider he welcomed me in three languages
he asked if I was the rabbi, "no" I said handing him
his Pesach treat; he then thanked me and wished me a
chag sameach; I left Friedman with mixed feelings of
both purpose and disquiet having seen what I'd seen
05APR23 | I WALK
I walk every day in search of
fresh, clean air and sunlight;
to clear my mind and loosen my
thoughts I venture out walking
along the Vliet whose gentle
ripples and calming flow ease
my worries and lift my spirits
to the treetops where songbirds
fill the skies with soft melodies;
I snap a photo of the first boat I
see as a keepsake of my longing
to one day venture far out to sea;
and I walk for my well-being and
I walk for my heart, soul and self;
I walk with daydreams and fantasies
that fill me with hope for tomorrow
06APR23 | METAMORPHOSIS
I woke up this morning transformed; not
like Gregor Samsa, but more akin to what
the Spanish say, a bicho raro, or a strange
bug, but without the bulging eyes, wings
or antennae flopping about my head; what
I've become is what I have most feared and
dreaded, an angry, bitter and intolerant man,
loathing, repulsed and indifferent towards
what society has become; I look upon people
with utter disdain; the smokers, delinquents,
the mentally deficient who flaunt their vices
and belligerent comportment caring only about
themselves and little about those with whom
they share this cluttered and musty blue planet;
the dregs of humanity who dredge what little good
remains of our rapidly declining earthly civilization
07APR23 | SHOSHANA (FOR L.T.)
There are many things in the Torah whose
meanings are left to interpretation; Shoshana,
for example, noted in more than one biblical
text whose meaning can be interpreted as lily
today, in modern Hebrew it has come to mean
rose; and there is also the lily among the thorns,
as seen in the Song of Solomon, which actually
may be a honeysuckle; but whatever flower I
happen to see blooming in the dewy spring air,
whether it be on my walks along the waterway
or morning strolls to the village, it is you whose
image I see, whose fragrance lingers in my memory;
and as I sat enjoying a meal with new friends today at
the same table we dined at some months ago, I couldn't
help but desire your presence there; and soon thereafter,
you appeared, as if you'd been reading my mind all along
08APR23 | THE HEAVINESS OF WATER
The rain keeps encroaching on the weakest
points; the badly laid roof and flimsy drywall;
water beads slowly bubbling through the cracks
dripping loudly upon the trash liner bags strewn
about the bed and floors; the ceiling can no longer
support the weight of the rainwater that has been
collecting in the eaves; and there's the irony of
tears and rain and the crevices and ruptures they
both leave in their wake; the heaviness of water
causing ruin where it accumulates, in my eyes, on
the roof, in pools of sorrow where I wade through
the years of torrents that all but dragged me into
the undertow of raging waters and menacing storms
where thunderclaps and lightning bolts burst about
this home that was never really anyone's home for the
tempest all but swept the little we made far out to sea
09APR23 | THREE YEARS OF EMMA
I'd always been what you might call indifferent
towards cats; but I wanted my daughters to be
able to enjoy the fruits of raising and living with
a pet, so I did plenty of research to find a breed
producing the lowest amounts of secretoglobin
Fel d 1, found mainly in their salivary glands (no,
it's not the hair we're allergic to) and came upon the
beautiful blue-haired, green-eyed Russian Blue cat;
the day we brought Emma home I nearly died, suffering
the worst allergic reaction I'd ever had in all of my fifty-
seven years; so bad, our GP told us the cat had to go,
especially as my blood test levels were off the charts;
and after months of pills and inhaled steroids that, despite
my doctor disagreeing vehemently, I knew would get me to a
point where my immune system would adjust, the place that
Emma found in my home and heart will remain there forever
10APR23 | THE 100TH DAY OF THE YEAR
One hundred days have come and gone
one hundred poems I managed to have done
lines of verse some rambling some terse
some took me hours, others on the run
one hundred poems with varying themes
many about heartache or so it seems
some about living some about loving
many about a lifetime of unfulfilled dreams
one hundred days most to be forgotten
some days delightful others simply rotten
some days alluring, others pain-enduring
some well planned and others misbegotten
one hundred poems written from the heart
written with solicitude right from the start
some with intention of divine intervention
and none except for this one that rhymes
11APR23 | HOWLING
Pain unlike any other I have ever known
deep physical pain that struck me by
surprise like a sudden crackling lightning
bolt born from weaker dim flashes
and this pain that pierced the right side
of my lower back was what I imagined
it would feel like to be stabbed by a knife
its cold steely blade penetrating deep within
it was a long steady jolt, lasting three to
five seconds that all but lifted me into the
the air above the kitchen floor; and the tenor-
pitched howling that my voice produced was
unlike any sound that had ever come out of
my mouth; it startled my daughters so that they
ran downstairs all but shaking with fear that their
father was about to die right before their very eyes
12APR23 | MORNINGS WITH ZAYDE
I remember the sixties very well, watching
the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, space launches,
assassinations and living with my mother,
grandparents and zayde on Maplewood
of all the things for a child to remember
it was mornings with my zayde that stands
out most vividly in the vast catalog of my
childhood memories; he was an early riser
and would wait until my grandfather left for
work to enter the flat's only bathroom where
he would gargle with warm salt water before
inserting his false teeth carefully into his mouth
he would then sit at the round, linoleum table in
the kitchen and have breakfast; a cup of Sanka and
two slices of burnt challah from Gitel's that he would
scrape the blackened char off of and smear with butter
13APR23 | SKIPPING STONES
It's always nice spending time with you
I wish we had more mornings together
like this one; you agreed to join me on
my morning walk along the waterway
we set out to look for the first boat of
the day so I could snap a photo of it as
I do most days; once we arrived in the
nearby Leeuwendaal neighborhood we
noticed a few small boats in the distance
and decided to sit on bench and wait for
them; I took a photo of the first boat, a
small white outboard motor walkaround
on our way home you asked me if I knew
how to skip stones, handing me a few rocks
you'd been picking up along the way; then I
skipped a few that jumped three or four times
14APR23 | WHAT IF
The whatifs keep coming up
over and over again
whatif this and whatif that
what would I do if I was
rendered incapacitated, unable
to work and earn a living; if I
couldn't pay my rent or my
electricity, gas and water bills
being self-employed is a precarious
affair, you insist, no security no
guarantees; teaching would give me
a salary and pay if I couldn't work
whatif? whatif? how will I help the
children with their homework? how
will I manage on my own being the
blundering imbecile you tell me I am?
15APR23 | BROKENNESS
What you touched was the deepest
pain I’d ever known; the little boy
who waited for a father who never
came home, years of waiting and
wondering why he’d left in the first
place; what you didn’t know, what
you couldn’t have known is that
heartbreak is real and the heart you
broke is broken beyond repair; broken
by you, by you and your brother and
my brother and your pestilent mother,
uncaring, bitter, resentful, unsympathetic;
you all meant to punish me but what you
did was annihilate me, decimate the little
will that remained within to pick myself up
and dust off the fragments of my brokenness
16APR23 | THE FINAL BUDS
I've been watching you bloom for
nearly a dozen springs and this will
be the last as we shall both be soon
leaving this place for greener pastures
and like me, you're a late bloomer, the
sun always reaching you long after all
of the others; but in the fall, you're the
last to bid farewell to your dying leaves
but they really don't die, do they? they
simply meld back into the earth to be
reborn in the spring, green and thriving
to burst again into clear blue skies
I will miss looking out and seeing you
there and I know you'll miss me, but I
won't be far away and will never forget
your beauty, shade and graceful splendor
17APR23 | MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS
I still find myself having more questions than answers
so much uncertainty and so many possible scenarios;
and amongst all the varieties of conundrums, surfaces
just as many doubts about my ability to handle them;
there are so many concepts I fail to get my head around
it seems the simpler they are the more complicated I
perceive them to be; after all, I never claimed to have
a brilliant mind, at least not the kind that gets good
grades or validates my opinion about world affairs and
general knowledge; I suppose you could call me a fake
it 'till you make it kind of guy, only sounding clever
because I have both a good imagination and vocabulary;
but with all the numbers and calendar dates and whatnot that
drive me absolutely mad, it's no wonder that my frustrations
often come to a boil, rendering me exhausted and defeated to
the point of forgetting what the question was in the first place
18APR23 | AS THE DUST SETTLES
It will take months, if not years, to recover from
the peace you all but vanquished from our lives;
your chaotic demeanor has wreaked havoc on us
all for far too long; your anger and hostility has
brought gloom and an always-present cloud that
hovers over our home, the home you decimated,
ransacked and left barren of warmth and emotion;
you can fill the cracks and slap some paint on the
walls, but your house is crumbling down and the
world is caving in all around you; but you'd never
notice even as the dust settles and the plumes of
what will never be again smolder into ashen waste
and when all is said and done, and you lie in your
dusty room upon your shrinking bed, silence will
overcome you like raging winds and wild banshees
hurling spears into the void where your heart once was
19APR23 | VANESSA
I honestly didn't think I'd ever hear from you again
especially after our last conversations a year or two
ago when you seemed dispirited and off-center, asking
me to write some kind of note to a prospective lover
telling him that our relationship had been years ago
and that there was nothing going on between us except
for the occasional greeting in passing online; how odd,
I thought and what, I wondered, had become of you;
and last night you appeared to me in a dream only hours
after appearing to me in my waking life, in reality (if that's
actually what this is...); we texted for hours and remembered
the good old days, as fleeting as they were; I recalled telling
myself if ever should you reach out to me I would never lose
sight of you again; so, here we are...again...and I'm never going
to lose sight of you as I shall work to convincing you to never
lose sight of me; here's where our love and our lives converge
20APR23 | THE GAYS
I remember the last time I saw you,
heartbroken over a tragic breakup;
he cheated and left you hanging,
broken, diminished to insignificance;
you hear a lot of stories when you do
the kind of work I do, there's a level of
trust and, I must admit, I'm an easy person
to talk to, affable and non judgmental
I've heard it all, the marriages and divorces,
deaths of parents and loved ones; illness and
healing, new jobs, firings, gossip, heartache,
suicidal ideation and loads of travel stories;
but yesterday, when you told me that the new love
you had found a year ago had flourished and you
were on the cusp of your first big vacation together
(and first flight ever!), I was simply overjoyed
21APR23 | THIRTY DAYS
You can really get to know someone well
in the expanse of thirty days living together
in close quarters as we did all those years
ago in Valencia; and looking back on it now
it makes perfect sense that we have been
reunited for a second time, well, actually
a third––even fourth––time; we so oddly
matched, had so little in common, but the
stars were aligned and something or another
was probably in retrograde and there we found
ourselves, delighting in each other's company,
enjoying carnal pleasures and long conversations
about everything and nothing; eating and drinking;
those thirty days and nights became our legacy and
our full circle moment is now upon us, today, at a
juncture in our lives ordained by the miracle of love
22APR23 | THE BACK SEAT GUY
Coming to the realization that I will
never be—nor have I ever been—the
most important person in anyone’s life is
by far the hardest pill I’ve ever had to swallow;
I don’t know how much the monthly mortgage
payments are because you’ve never told me, but I
imagine you’d love to have that money every month
to buy more gaudy vintage secondhand clothes or take
more trivial little vacations to more trivial little places;
how convenient it would be should I just fall off the face
of the earth, then I’d finally be useful to you; think about
how that extra money could come in so very, very handily;
and I imagine the same could be said about anyone; I'll never
make the hit parade or see my name at the top of anyone's list;
the children will always come first, I get that and understand
it completely which is why I'm the quintessential back seat guy
23APR23 | SKY LIGHT
I also have a skylight, at least I used to;
when my room was our room and my bed
was our bed; I slept on the right side, the best
side for peering out into the night sky to gaze
at stars and slowly moving clouds and look into
the heavens for signs to guide me through life's
challenges; but it's no longer my room or my bed
or my skylight and what I contemplate nowadays
becomes ensnarled by low-flying planes and noisy
helicopters and blinding lights from the neighbor's
yard and the low murmuring of kitchen appliances;
and I long to share a skylight with you, in a paradise
illuminated by the moon at night and by the sun during
the day and the sounds of laughter and children playing
in the garden; but light also illuminates darkness and I
wonder if you'll still love me when my secrets come to light
24APR23 | DREAMS & FANTASIES
Sometimes I find it hard to distinguish between
dreams and fantasies; there is a convoluted world
in my sleeping brain that often confuses themes
of reality within the vividness of my imagination
then last night you came to me as I slept; and yes,
there was passion, at least a fleeting moment where
pleasures were offered, taken and enjoyed; these were
followed by simple, utilitarian tasks (me helping you);
and this morning when I asked you that very personal
question, you repudiated my request leaving me feeling
somewhat insignificant; but I respected your position
and didn't bring it up again (nor will I in the future);
I suppose I'm still unsure that this whole thing is real, my
dreams and fantasies are so often intertwined that even I
can't tell them apart one from the other; what is real are
the feelings that have been reawakened and refuse to sleep
25APR23 | SYMPTOMS
I'm at an age when thoughts turn from
professional ambition, childrearing and
homemaking to the variety of aches and
ailments that become an everyday occurance;
and instead of enjoying sunny days and long
walks along the waterway, I sit rigidly at my
desk writing doleful poetry and editing a novel
that is older than my two youngest children;
I ponder symptoms and solutions, causes to the
maladies which produce malaise and agitation;
I convince myself that every supplement I pop
into my mouth will alleviate the woes and worries;
but hypochondriasis isn't only fear and worry, for me
it's always been a self-reflection of my always-changing
physical/emotional state; it's a mirror I hold up to myself
to serve as a reminder that I am living, alive and omnipotent
26APR23 | LONG SQUIGGLY LINES
If only I could find a way to spend as much
time thinking about what could be rather than
what cannot be, I would surely be able to, at
least, induce some of what I most aspire to;
but my brain is more like Stravinsky's Petrushka
than the placid brook I desire it to be which makes
seeking out calm and collected thoughts nearly
impossible; my mind races from one thing to the
next; from mayhem to long squiggly lines that
never seem to connect in any sort of rational way,
incongruous with the serenity I know awaits me
somewhere, someday, somehow in some alternate
existence; and maybe it's you that holds the key to
this otherworldly dimension, dangling there from
a chain around your neck that only I can free with
immeasurable love and the light from sacred spheres
27APR23 | THE PRECIPICE
I guess I'll never really know how close to
the edge I was, and perhaps it's best I don't;
but you've pulled me back in and taken me
into your heart, a place I'd been once, all
those years ago, one I never should have
abandoned but did; maybe it was because
I didn't have the foresight to see how it
could have worked out, too preoccupied
with the small details and the big picture;
or maybe because the fleshwounds were
too fresh and agonizingly too slow to heal;
but I loved you then and I love you now and
knowing you've always kept me close within
has brought new meaning to my life; now I can
see clearly the reflection of the fireworks in your
eyes as you looked out of my bedroom window
28APR23 | CUAUTLA
I could get used to waking up at the crack
of dawn to the sound of hens and churrinches
singing in the early morning sun; your jet black
hair spread out upon the white damask pillowcase
as I gaze upon your tawny skin, watching the
rise and fall of your body; you turn gently onto
your back revealing your supple bosom, your
eyes slowly open and catch my taking delight
in a mesmerizing moment of pure joy; my heart
skips a beat as you touch your finger to your lips
signaling me to kiss you; you pull me close and
then whisper softly in my ear: te quiero mucho;
how much would I suffer to attain happiness? to
live for eternity by your side in Cuautla or on a
sunswept beach where time and tides take us to a
place the universe has kept safe and sacred for us
29APR23 | A LONG-STANDING JOKE
I suppose you could say the real me is the
one who awakens at four a.m. with a head
filled with incoherent ideas, get-rich-quick
schemes and amorous ideations about the
Mexican woman who seduced me years ago
in Valencia, a woman with whom I became
entangled in an impassioned love affair that
seemed to end before it even began; we found
each other again––a dozen or so years later––
only to drift apart unable to navigate the past
or the distance or the obstacle of other lovers
who came and went from our lives; then, and
seemingly star-crossed, the universe continued
its long-standing joke and threw us together once
again into the fray of what seems impossible to
ever be, but something I long for as never before
30APR23 | LIVER & ONIONS
I took a detour on my way to Los Angeles in October 1981;
spent nine months in Phoenix where I formed my first band
with an old high school friend who’d moved out west a few
years earlier; Burt was good to me, treated me like a younger
brother, made sure I had groceries, helped me look for a job
and taught me how to ride a motorcycle (be the invisible man,
he used to tell me); we would jam together on Friday evenings
and then head over to our favorite diner somewhere in Scottsdale
where we’d order the dinner special, liver and onions with fries
and homemade rice pudding for dessert; we'd go back to his
house and jam some more, his father (the boss) fast asleep in
his armchair, unwakeable despite our loud amps and clangor;
around midnight I'd hop onto my black Yamaha 650 Special and
make the ride home to Osborn Road in the frigid Arizona night,
contemplating my future and breathing in the aromatic desert air
whose erupting chimney smells I called salsa in the desert at night