Saturday, October 04, 2014

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow is just another day.  Day after day, I do the same thing:
Get up, get dressed, and watch tv.  I don’t change my clothes, only
My shirt, so my pants are dirty and my underwear is not clean,
Either.  Day after day.  The light shines in through the window every
Stinkin’ day.  Every time I play.  My heart beats in my chest.
There is a test.  Tomorrow is just another day.  I like to hear what you say.
The river runs like rain.  It makes a splashing sound as I jump into it,
And swim like a fish.  The fish are plentiful.  I’d like to go fishing,
Tomorrow is just another day for fishing.  Any other day is like tomorrow.
I have found my way out of this day, and every day, I pray-I am lucky.
It’s not about luck.  It’s about tomorrow.  Tomorrow comes on skates.
Tomorrow is worrisome.  What if I get into an accident tomorrow?  What if
My man breaks up with me?  I don’t know what else to think.  Tomorrow is just
Another day.

I am alone.

Nathan:  I am…alone.
Aunt Mindy:  Oh, sill, you’re being all dramatic again.  This time, let’s add tears to the sniffling.
Nathan:  I wasn’t sniffling.  I was yelling.
Aunt Mindy:  No way are you going to get girl by yelling.
Nathan:  Then how do you get a girl?
Aunt Mindy:  By…groveling.  That’s how my Howard and I did it.  Apparently, Sally said I was the one to grovel first.
Nathan:  That’s something to be proud of…right?
Aunt Mindy.  You’re asking a lot of questions.  If you be polite, I’ll give you some mints.  
Nathan:  I don’t want some mints…I want to know how to get a girl.
Aunt Mindy:  And then what do you plan on doing with this girl?
Nathan:  I thought I was supposed to marry her.
Aunt Mindy:  That is one way.  Or you could take her to the dentist.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Worrying.


The sun shines down on me like rain.
I feel the beat of your heart next to mine.
Shadows fold like daffodils.
My heart is ready inside my chest.
Everything is for the best.
Let’s see your heart-at the hospital,
You are getting ready for chemotherapy.
I have found that I like to write words
Of poetry on my lawn.  I sense the coming
Dawn.  It rises in the west and settles in the east
And I don’t have any other idea to meet with you
Than to meet with you at a coffee house.
Where are you?  I can’t find you in the dark.
It is quiet here.  Our lives are quiet.  I am quiet.
Everything is quiet and more than the same
Than yesterday.  So many people.  Not enough
Time to talk to you.  I wish I could talk to you.
My tongue hangs from my mouth like a panting dog.
I am here.  I am not far.  Don’t worry, don’t worry

Friday, July 04, 2014

The Bear.

The bear rolled himself up out of the water
and waddled across the road-
he was thinking deeply, as all bears should,
about fish.
I am like a bear.  I scratch myself and yawn
loudly and make great bear-noises.
The bear was a lot like a bear.
He had nothing to hold on to-no family,
no friends, just his great big paws sifting
through the water for fish.
The fish are like all fish.  Fishing is simple.
The bear makes himself known to the local
fishermen who fear him and his  mighty gestures.
He waddles a little ways through the trees,
stops, and sniffs the air-the sky is filled with
smoke from a log house down a ways in the forest
of trees, in the forest of nights.  Nights are scary
in the woods; the bear knows this.

Eyes Of a Little.

The eyes of the fire is not the fire
it burns inside of me, charring my lungs and heart.
I have found a better way of dealing with this.
I have found different things to think about.
This life is not my life.  It is someone else's.
My life is something more important than life;
the tree is growing in the backyard.
Why is life so hard?  I try and I try and I just can't
seem to make it work.  Every little thing is difficult
for me.  It's not just what I see, but what I
experience as well.  So as far as I can tell,
this life is fit for me.  I dream little dreams.  I take
books wherever I go, especially at the library
where the lines are slow.  Don't go past go.
Give me five hundred dollars, in tens and ones.
I look like I need a shower.  My mother comes home
in three days.  I haven't seen her in ages.  Where I am
is where I ought to be, it's what I want to become
that's inside of me like a light bulb going off.  I grow and I
grow just like a little tree.  The dinosaurs have come
back.

Rainbow Storm.


A man is washed upon the shore of a beach, 
His face twisted, contorted, fighting for a breath of air. 
A starfish, sunning on the shore, lays flat on the ground nearby, 
Searching for a way back in the water. 
Sea gulls scream overhead, begging for food, 
A glimpse of foreign land. There is none on the horizon, 
Save for the salt sea air and a rainbow 
That has appeared after a storm. 

The day has just broken over the horizon; light 
Has fallen still. The man gets up, wakes up, 
His thoughts are calm, ready as anything; 
His body moves like water, as he tiptoes over the 
Hot sand, as he moves with the rhythm of the 
Crashing waves. The earth is not still; his body 
Is a movement of geometrical shapes, perfect 
In every way. The ocean sings; the rainbow dips 
Above the rocks, there is no gold at the other end, 
Save for a lone star fish who flops out of the water 
And onto the dry land. 

Metaphorical Lymericals.

You shape and mold me into a man, the son said to the father.
I am not ecstatic about your plan of annihilation.
Son, he said, we are at war, and war holds many lies-
Lies inside the government, and outside, in the farmland-
These are lies, the lies that are words, and the feelings
Held deep inside.  My mother said she is like a tiger,
That growls in the night.  My father is like a tiger,
That bounds and holds its prey.  Everything is a prey,
Even the homeless, even the words that are burned to black,
The shadows that fold like lightning.  It is the night of stars,
The crying of stars-this is the way that it goes, the way it has
Always been.  These are the rainbows, the nights that bend
And break, the sadness that is inside a man, someone with a name-
His face is a mask of broken promises, a field of roses,
Of cataclysmic proportions, trying to hold into the images that
Are fresh of his words.  His eyes meet the eyes of a wounded
Warrior, the warrior that is himself-
He is burdened by who he is, and his skin folds inside-
Cars pass by me on the highway, and this is my life,
The life that people do not understand-
I hide away, inside myself, and break out, insisting wildfires,
Insisting roses are burnt of water-
He makes the money, I make the words, it is how it goes,
He is silent, and everyone fights, misery taken flight.
This is the story of words, of plays mingled with sorrow,
And how English is my first language, and words are my second-
How the rainbow appears in the sky, over our house,
Wherever our house may happen to be, and how war takes flight
And makes us believe something that is not appeared-
And how, poetry, in motion, is not burdened by the face of poetry,
And the face of mankind is different from day and night,
And how his anger is flesh of flesh, and words of words-

Winding Down the Hours.

Like open doorways, I mix and mingle, I drive soiled tears
Through linen sheets. Peace is not with me; a heart is not open,
I quietly rekindle my tears, the heartache beats steady.
I wish I could bring myself out of this stupor, but nothing
Will relinquish this pain that is held on me, when my heart beats
Steadily, the thrum thrum of my heart. Who am I. 
Shadows are thrown on open doorways; daylight moves in through
The open window, where a flower has fallen on a cold moaning
Of wind. This life is not forbidden, this love is not forbidden,
Nor is my heart, it beats like shadows and rivers,
Words are tossed into open wounds. 
Clouds move and shift;
Secrets plummet into the world like warbled voices,
Caught in an updraft of makeshift promise. I do not know how
To say this, do not know how to speak the words that claw
Inside my chest, to say the things that must be spoken.
There is only the window, and the flower on the sill-
The darkness that thrums, and a cold winter chill.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Disappeared.

I hardly knew you, you with your brown curls and your upturned mouth,
you who shouted obscenities into space as it whirled and twirled above me.
I couldn't find you then.  You were lost to me.  We looked in the infinite
wilderness for you five days straight-all we could find were bogs and logs.
I thought you had disappeared, but there you were, still as stone, sitting
in the rocking chair on the dilapidated back porch.  I shouted at you joyfully.
I was in joyous measure.  You happened to be there.  But still, I hardly
knew you, you who do all the talking, talking about bygone days and autumn
nights, your dress whirling around your legs like a curlicue.

The Couch.

I often find myself looking out of windows.
I remember Julius Caesar liked to look out of windows.
The sun sets in the west and rises in the east; at that time,
I am sleeping, dreaming of Hamlet.  What once was now is now
before, and I don't know when I will be back.  The drawing of myself
is hanging in the living room, brought to me by Jack Hanner, the man
who stole my heart.  He didn't exactly steal it; my heart still remains
beating.  I don't know about the beating of other things in this world;
the beating of the drum on Harlan Avenue from the man in the blue hat,
the beating of the rain as it pours down onto the windows of my house.
My house is big enough to fill a hundred fig bars, they are my favorite.
I think about eating.  Eating is eating.  It fills up ten minutes out of
the day then we're back doing other things again, reading, watching
tv, fighting with our loved ones about who gets the couch.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Clean.

A deadweight paper forms on my arm
Like an igloo that stays outside-
To me, life is like a heartbeat that goes
Upside down, upside down.
Something for me to touch.
I rationalize dawn this way and something
Else in my mind comes clean:
What the day is like.
I have not seen the rest of this season riding
Like a bicycle in the park.  This is what I have:
Pens and paper and ink cartridges.  All alone
I stand, the river is red from kool-aid.
I seek help where there is none.  Tomorrow,
I will do more to help myself, help myself.
This is not my week.  Heaven has gone backwards.
The light is in my window, and I can see
A reflection in the light.  Tell me where have I been,
I have not seen anything but the light and it bugs
Me.  I wish I could fly off elsewhere, the night
Is too deep for me.  The color of the wind is short
And sweet, daybreak enters the wild wild wonder.
I am not here, so close to hear.  My ears feel like
Shadows of a broken dawn.  I am not trying to
Disappear.  I just want to be left alone for awhile.

The House and the Cafe.

The house is not my house.
This house dwells in another house.
It is the boss’s house-
he lives underneath
The stairs.  I don’t know
where I’ve run off
To, but Florida sounds
good to me right now-
All those beaches and
whales would make a good
Swim.  I’ve found myself
inside of a deadweight,
And everything seems good
to me right now.
I’m singing outloud to the
stereo, and everything
Sounds good to me right now.
The house is broken.
I broke the house.
The gods can’t help me now-
Everything is sinister, without the night.  Take me
Home, I want to go home.
I want to get out of this place.
There are too many people at this
café, I want to get out
Of here.

The Sight and the Shadow.

Shadows creep upon the blank walls.
The sunlight is dressed in white.  They throw shadows on
Torn flowers.  Sight is here, and is not.
The words are clear, and are not.  Here the river

Gurgles to itself, and falls fast asleep in its own chair.
The chair totters and spills over.

Night comes,
The stars are awake and hear the river.  The river is

All right.  The stars are the river.  Distance comes

With sight.  Take me outside of myself, and hear
The words chime with reverence.

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Sanctuary, beginning.

(Kid tosses and turns in his bed all night.  A light flashes by the window.  The next morning, Saturday, he wakes up and goes into the living room to watch cartoons on the television set.  His father is talking softly on the telephone.)
Dad:  All right…yes, that’s fine…thank you…bye.
Kid:  When is Grandpa coming over, huh Dad?  Huh?  Huh?  (He jumps up and down.  He can’t help it.  He is too excited.)
Dad (laughingly):  When he comes over, son.  Actually, about a half an hour.  A lot of traffic, you know.
Kid (disappointed):  That’s a million years!
Dad:  You’re so funny.
Kid:  The answer is George Washington, Dad..
(A  half an hour later they hear a horn honking outside.  Kid runs to the door and flings it open wide.  His grandfather, Grandpa Jones, is just exiting his car.)
Grandpa:  Hello, child, hello!  I’ve missed you.  (Grabs him in a great, big bear hug.)
Kid:  I’ve missed you too, Grandpa.  Where have you been?
(Grandpa laughs.)  At home, of course!  Now that I don’t work anymore, I don’t have much to do.
Kid:  What do you do, Grandpa?
Grandpa:  Play solitaire.  It’s a helluva lot better than poker.  And more respectable-like.
Dad:  Grandpa, don’t talk about poker with the boy.
(Grandpa snorts.)  Why, I was younger than him when I started playing.  I should teach him right now.
Dad (in a warning tone.)  No poker.
Grandpa:  Fine, fine.  I didn’t bring any cards, anyway.  They’re at home.  Hey, look what I got!  (He pulls a quarter from behind Maverick’s ear.)
Dad:  No giving my kid money, either.  He has a big enough allowance as it is, anyway.  Let’s go inside.  We’re attracting the neighbors’ attention.
Kid:  Okay, Dad!
(Later that evening, they are having dinner on the back porch.  There is a pinkish light to the sky.  A soft wind is blowing.)
Dad:  It’s so peaceful out here…makes me think of Jillian.
Grandpa:  Hector.
Dad:  I’m just saying-
Grandpa (severely):  Not in front of the boy.
Dad:  You’re right.  I completely forgot.  It’s still fresh in his mind, like a growing daisy.  Kids don’t handle deaths very well.  They don’t understand it.  (He stumbles to his feet.)  Let’s go to the carnival!
(Kid jumps up and down):  Yay!  Let me get my jacket.
(Grandpa, Dad, and the kid pile into the car and drive downtown to where the carnival is being held.  The kid rides so many rides until he can’t ride anymore.  Dad goes on a few rides, but Grandpa just watches.  After riding the rides, Grandpa buys everyone ice cream, and they find a table and sit down.)
Kid:  I love ice cream.
Grandpa:  Me, too.
Dad (scolds):  You shouldn’t be eating ice cream, Pops.  It’s not healthy for you.
Grandpa:  I say what’s healthy for me.  And I put my foot down on that!
Kid:  You go, Grandpa!
(Grandpa chuckles.)
(The day ends.  Everyone piles back into the car and they drive home.  Grandpa leaves to go back to his own house.  The house is now quiet.)
(Kid stands up abruptly.)  I’m going to go watch tv.
Dad:  Okay, sport.
(The next day.)  
Teacher:  That is correct, Maverick.  You get a gold star for the day.
Kid:  Isn’t that a little babyish?
Teacher:  If it’s babyish, I don’t want to know about it.  (He smiles at the kid and turns his attention back to the chalkboard.  The kid sighs in relief.)
Kid:  Maybe he should pay more attention to his school work rather than thinking about girls, he thinks.  (The bell rings; it is time for lunch.  The kid slowly walks to his locker and thrusts his books inside.  Then, he grabs his math book and puts it in his backpack.  It is very heavy.  He has math class after lunch; he walks slowly down the hallway, grimacing at the weight of the book, and enters the lunch room.  Everyone is talking and laughing.  He gets in the lunch line and stands on tiptoe to see what they’re having for lunch-he groans.  It is sloppy joe, again.  He loves sloppy joes, but enough is enough.  He grabs a sloppy joe and puts it on his plate, then he scans the room for any signs of his friends.  He spots Joe and Aaron seated in a corner of the lunch room and hurries over to them.  He sits down.)
Kid:  Hi, guys!  How’s it going?
Aaron:  Don’t ask me that question.  Just, don’t.
Kid:  What’s the matter with you?
Joe:  He’s in love.
Kid:  Really?  With who?
Joe:  Sarah Shortt.
Kid:  He is?  Man, she’s pretty.  (Kid sighs and shakes his head then slowly consumes his sloppy joe.  Come to think of it, he loves sloppy joes!  They’re the best!)
*
(Kid shoulders his backpack.  The end of another school day.  The bells are ringing in the hallway and kids are zooming every which way, trying to get out of Berrymill Elementary School as fast as their legs can carry them.  The kid slowly drags his feet.  He didn’t want to go home, to see his sick, bed-ridden mother.  It was too scary, too real.  He shoulders his backpack again, sighs, and hurries out the double doors of the school.)
(Kid starts to walk home.  It is a pleasant day outside; the birds are singing; the sun is high in the sky.  He goes past Rite Aid, and walks two more blocks before finally reaching home.  He takes a deep breath, and opens the door.  He steps inside, his heart beating a mile a minute-will his mother be better, or worse?  His heart sinks.  He’s still laying in bed.  Kid walks over to him and kisses his cheek.  Then, he rearranges his blankets so they’re tucked under his chin.)  Hi, Dad.
Dad:  Hello, sweetie, how was school?
Kid (a bit sharply):  Fine.
Dad:  Do you have homework?
(Kid bobs his head):  Lots.
Dad:  I have an errand for you.  I need you to go to the store and help me get the groceries.  We’re almost out of everything.
Kid:  You can’t go to the store in your condition.  I’ll get Grandpa-
Dad:  No, no.  I’ll do it.  Doctor says I have to get up and about anyway.  Good, your coat is still on.  (She throws the covers off of him and drags herself off the couch.  He goes to the coat closet and puts on a blue jacket.)  Let’s go, honey.
Kid (sighs):  All right, Dad, if this is what you want.
Dad (sharply):  You’re starting to sound a lot like your Grandpa.  He always tells me to relax.
Kid:  Takes one to know one!  (He hops into the car and his father slides behind the wheel in the driver’s seat.)
(Soon, they reach the grocery store.  His father pulls the car into a parking spot-close to the door-and turns around to face her son.)  Fill it up as much as you can.  Here’s two hundred dollars.
(Kid takes the money):  All right, Dad, if you say so.
Dad:  I say so.
(Kid hurries out of the car and into the store.  It is bustling with activity.  He grabs a cart and starts going down the aisles.  Halfway down the flour aisle, a man approaches him.)
Man:  What are you doing in here, kid?
Kid:  I’m shopping for my mother.
Man:  I’m sorry I asked.
(Kid takes the cart and hurries down another aisle.)
(Kid makes his purchases and takes the groceries out to the car.  His mother gets out of the front seat and helps put the groceries in the trunk.  Then, he hops into the car again and they head home.)
*
Dad:  Thanks for helping me today, son.  It was a big help.  I haven’t been feeling myself lately.
Kid:  It was no problem.  Except this guy asked me what I was doing in the grocery store by myself.
Dad:  Just tell him the truth, son.  That’s all you can do.
Kid:  I guess so.
Dad:  Have you done your homework yet?
Kid:  No, not yet.  It’s not a lot, really.
Dad:  Get to it, son.  We want you to be a learned person, not illiterate like some folk.
Kid:  Okay, Dad, I’ll do my homework.  (Grumbling to himself, he goes upstairs, his right hand on the railing.  It takes him awhile to finish his homework; then he is called downstairs to dinner.)  What are we having, Mom?  (He is in the kitchen, trying to peer into the pots boiling on the stove.)
Dad:  We’re having spaghetti and meatballs, son.
Kid:  Oh, goodie!  You know how I love spaghetti and meatballs.
*
(The kid’s father makes dinner.  They eat quietly.  It is so quiet, you can hear the clock ticking in the kitchen.  They eat all their meals at the kitchen table.  Suddenly, his father groans and slides to the floor.  The kid jumps up from his seat, alarmed.)  Dad!
Dad:  Call an ambulance, son.  I think I’m having a heart attack.
Kid:  Okay, Dad.  Relax.  I’ll get you a pillow from the living room.  (He races into the living room and comes back, carrying a couch pillow.  He puts it under the man’s head.)
Dad:  Thank you, son.  Now go call the ambulance.
(The kid rushes to the phone and picks it up.  He dials 911.)  Hello…yes…come right away.  My father passed out on the floor.  Yes, he’s talking.  (He hangs up and turns to his father.)  They’re coming right away.
Dad:  Thank you, son.  You just may have saved my life.
Kid (savagely):  Don’t talk like that.  You’ll be fine.
Dad:  I suppose you’re right.
(Fifteen minutes later a knock sounds on the door.  The kid rushes to open it.  The police rushes in as well as the paramedics.)
Police officer:  Where is he?
(The kid points):  In the kitchen, on the floor.
Police officer:  You did the right thing, son.
Kid:  Is he going to be all right?
(The police officers glance at each other.)
Police officer #1:  He’ll be just fine, thanks to you.
Kid:  Aw, I have to help my paw.
Dad:  Can my son come to the hospital with me?  There’s no one here to watch him.
Paramedic #1:  Most certainly.  Get your jacket, son.  It’s pretty cold out there.
Kid:  Okay.
(Two more paramedics enter the house with a stretcher.  The kid’s father climbs on slowly and lays his head down on the pillow.  The kid follows them outside to the ambulance and he shuts the front door.  It’s as if he’s shutting the door on something final as the wind and the grass growing far and wide.  The drive to the hospital doesn’t take long.  The paramedics unload the stretcher and wheel it inside the hospital.  People are rushing around, both staff and patients and visitors.  Suddenly, Dad starts to vomit, and his body jumps up and down.)
Paramedic:  Code blue, code blue!
Kid:  Dad!
(Dad gives a weak smile):  I’ll be fine, son.  Don’t worry.
Kid:  Maybe I should call Grandpa.
(A doctor comes rushing up to the stretcher.)  Here’s a throw up bucket.  (Dad takes the throw up bucket and starts retching up blood.)
Kid (gasps):  Dad!
Doctor (severely):  He shouldn’t be seeing this.  Take the kid somewhere else.
Kid:  No, I’m fine.  I want to stay.
Doctor:  Okay, you can stay.  We have to figure out what’s wrong with your father, first of all.
Kid:  Okay.  Is there anything I can do?
Doctor:  Can you get me a cup of coffee?  (He pats the kid on the back.)  Sorry, just a little joke.  I don’t drink coffee, myself.
Kid:  Me, either.
(A nurse hurries over and starts pushing the stretcher into ICU.  The kid follows behind, looking dazed and confused.)
Doctor:  Sir, we’re going to put an IV in your arm.  Throwing up causes you to lose body fluids.  Is that all right?
Dad (gasps):  It’s all right with me.
(A needle is inserted into his right arm.)
Dad:  Where’s my son?
Doctor:  A nurse is watching him for you.  We’re calling your father to see if he can pick him up and take him home.  He shouldn’t be in a hospital.
Dad:  You’re right.
(Doctor takes off his stethoscope off and puts it on again.  He listens to Dad’s back and heart.)
Doctor:  We’re going to run some tests and find out what’s wrong with you.  You’ve stopped shaking, that’s good news.  I wonder what caused it in the first place.
Nurse #3:  Do you know what Hector Prenelli has yet?  He keeps throwing up blood and I’m worried he might not last another week.  Or another night.
Doctor:  No, I do not, and if you keep bugging me, I’ll have you suspended for misconduct.
Nurse #3 (meekly):  Sorry, Doctor.  I was just-
Doctor:  I know what you were “just.”  Don’t do it again.
(Two weeks passed.  The doctor ran test after test, and everything came back negative.  Finally, the hospital tried running tests on rare diseases.  One came up positive.  Dad was in poor condition.  His face was a pale color and he had spots all over his back.  His breathing wasn’t very good.)
Doctor:  It’s a rare form of cancer, called ASERS.  It comes from Egypt.  This guy has never been to Egypt, so I don’t understand how he could contract it…
Nurse #3:  Maybe he has something in his house from Egypt.
Doctor:  That could be it.  I’m going to call his house and talk to Mike to see if his son has anything in his house from Egypt.  (He hurries out of the ICU and down the hallway to the telephones.  He dials the phone and someone picks it up on the first ring.)  Hello, Mike, this is Doctor Ponder.  I have some good news and bad news.
Grandpa:  What’s the good news?
Doctor:  The good news is, we found out what disease your son has.
Grandpa:  And?
Doctor:  The bad news is it is very rare and has no cure.  It is called ASERS and anyone who contracts it dies within six months.
Grandpa:  You can’t be serious.  My son is only 39-years-old.  His wife died early, too, but that’s besides the point.  What are you going to do to help my son?
Doctor:  We’ll do anything we can.
Grandpa:  I should hope so.
Doctor:  Does he have anything in his house from Egypt?
Grandpa:  N-no, not that I know of.  Why?
Doctor:  His illness comes from Egypt.  His is the first case in the US.  I checked.
Grandpa:  I had no idea it was that serious.
Doctor:  Are you going to come down and see him?  He’s still been throwing up a lot, but he can still communicate.
Grandpa:  Yes, I planned on coming to see him today.  I’ll bring the boy.
(Grandpa hangs up the phone.  He goes down the hallway and enters the boy’s bedroom.  He is laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.)
Grandpa:  We’re going to go see your father today.  Get ready.
Kid:  Oh, goodie!  Can we get him a card and balloons?  I love balloons.
Grandpa (chuckles):  I know you do, son.  Yes, we can get him those things, it wouldn’t be proper not to.
Kid:  I’m going to hurry up and get ready!
Grandpa:  I should say so.
(He exits.)
(Grandpa and the kid pile into the car.  The kid is wearing his windbreaker and a hat is pulled low over his ears.  They drive into town and stop at Rite Aid.  The kid goes down aisle after aisle until he finds the cards’ aisle.  He bends down to look at them.  He finds the one he wants, and goes towards the balloons.  He picks out two.  They go to the cash register and Grandpa pays for the items.  Then, they get in the car again and drives to General Hospital, where the kid’s father is staying.)
Kid:  Did they find out what he has yet?
Grandpa:  Yes, it’s called ASERS.
Kid:  ASERS?  What the heck is that?
Grandpa:  It’s a disease from Egypt.
Kid:  We learned about Egypt in school.  It’s in Africa.
Grandpa:  Very good, son.  Very good.  Let’s go inside the hospital now.
Kid:  Yes.
(Grandpa and the kid enter the hospital.  It’s bustling with activity.  Grandpa hurries to the front desk and asks the unit clerk where Hector Prenilli is.
Unit clerk:  He finally got his own room.  It was a little cramped in the ICU since there were so many people.  He’s on the third floor and his room number is 32.
Grandpa:  Thank you.
Unit clerk:  You’re welcome.
(Grandpa takes the kid’s hand and goes to the elevators.  It takes them to the third floor.  They find room #32 after a few minutes of searching.  Grandpa can hear the sound of retching all the way outside the door.  He enters it with a smile on his face-or at least, trying to smile.)
Grandpa:  Son!  How have you been?
Dad:  Not feeling too great.  I’ve been throwing up blood for the past two weeks.  And the doctor just told me I have a rare disease.  All in all, I’m feeling pretty good.
(Kid laughs.)
Grandpa:  We got you some balloons and a card, son.
Kid:  Yeah!  They’re great, too!  (He hands over the card and the balloons to his father.)
Dad:  Thank you, son.  They’re wonderful.  I’ve been getting stuff from everybody.  I even got a teddy bear-it’s yours, son, if you want it.  I’m too tough for teddy bears.
Kid:  Yeah, I want it!
Dad:  Good, you can have it.
Grandpa:  I’m sorry you’ve been suffering.
Dad:  Aw, I can handle it.  (He starts retching again.)
Grandpa:  Here, let me hold your head.  (He hurries over to his son’s bed side and holds his head while he throws up in the throw up bucket.  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles a sugary smile.)
Dad:  It’s not all bad.  I get to eat hospital food.
(Kid laughs.)
(The doctor enters the room.)
Doctor:  How’s my favorite patient doing?
Dad:  Not too bad…I threw up again, which is good news.
(The doctor laughs):  I shouldn’t be laughing.
Dad:  No, no, it’s all right.  I’m getting tired of being in this hospital day after day, though.  When can I go home?
Doctor:  We have to figure out where you got ASERS from.  Then, we can find a cure.
Dad:  I thought you had a cure.
Doctor:  No, we do not have one yet.  We have medication for similar diseases, like cancer, but ASERS is much worse.
Dad:  Ohhhhh…
Doctor:  Don’t fret.  We’ll find a cure.
Kid:  We sure will, Dad.  I’ll help.
Doctor (laughs):  I wish you could help.  You don’t have a doctor’s or a nurse’s degree, kiddo.
Kid:  I can get one.
(Everyone bursts into laughter.  The kid sulks.)
Kid:  I was just trying to help.
(The doctor ruffles his hair.
Doctor:  I know.  You’re doing a good job just being there for your father.
Kid:  Will he be all right?
Doctor:  We sure hope so.  I have to go, but a nurse will be in here shortly to give him his medication.
Dad:  Thank you, Doctor.  (weakly):  I thought it was just a heart attack.
Doctor:  You were close.
(Doctor exits.)
*

Fairies.

Two children were walking down a road.  They were not real children, of course, but if someone was looking out at them from a window, they would assume the shadows were human, because they were long and thin and one of them was talking to the other-they were fairies.

Beginning of All Alone.

(Kid tosses and turns in his bed all night.  A light flashes by the window.)
Kid:  When is Grandpa coming over, huh Dad?  Huh?  Huh?  (He jumps up and down.  He can’t help it.  He is too excited.)
Dad (laughingly):  When he comes over, son.  Actually, about a half an hour.  A lot of traffic, you know.
Kid (disappointed):  That’s a million years!
Dad:  You’re so funny.
Kid:  The answer is George Washington, Dad..
(A  half an hour later they hear a horn honking outside.  Kid runs to the door and flings it open wide.  His grandfather, Grandpa Jones, is just exiting his car.)
Grandpa:  Hello, child, hello!  I’ve missed you.  (Grabs him in a great, big bear hug.)
Kid:  I’ve missed you too, Grandpa.  Where have you been?
(Grandpa laughs.)  At home, of course!  Now that I don’t work anymore, I don’t have much to do.
Kid:  What do you do, Grandpa?
Grandpa:  Play solitaire.  It’s a helluva lot better than poker.  And more respectable-like.
Dad:  Grandpa, don’t talk about poker with the boy.
(Grandpa snorts.)  Why, I was younger than him when I started playing.  I should teach him right now.
Dad (in a warning tone.)  No poker.
Grandpa:  Fine, fine.  I didn’t bring any cards, anyway.  They’re at home.  Hey, look what I got!  (He pulls a quarter from behind Maverick’s ear.)
Dad:  No giving my kid money, either.  He has a big enough allowance as it is, anyway.  Let’s go inside.  We’re attracting the neighbors’ attention.
Kid:  Okay, Dad!
(Later that evening, they are having dinner on the back porch.  There is a pinkish light to the sky.  A soft wind is blowing.)
Dad:  It’s so peaceful out here…makes me think of Jillian.
Grandpa:  Hector.
Dad:  I’m just saying-
Grandpa (severely):  Not in front of the boy.
Dad:  You’re right.  I completely forgot.  It’s still fresh in his mind, like a growing daisy.  Kids don’t handle deaths very well.  They don’t understand it.
(Kid stands up abruptly.)  I’m going to go watch tv.
Dad:  Okay, sport.
(Grandpa stands up):  I think it’s time for me to leave now.  Agatha’s by herself and her health isn’t so great.

Everything I Touch.

Everything I touch is equally great in all its greatness-
Everything I feel is deep inside of me.  I have a little me
Growing inside.  It’s like a baby flower in bloom.  All I feel
Shatters into a million pieces of rubbery goodness.
What I see is what I am.  I make things grow.  I take things out of
Shadows.  The inferiority complex.  The great divide.
I take myself and grow outside of myself.  I am a mirror,
That looks deep within me.  I am a piece of a mirror
That has been broken into two pieces.  That’s seven years bad luck.
Tell me oh wandering one, where do you go?  I don’t see anything in shadow,
I can’t find anything in the wide wide world we live in.  Here we are,
Like two sharks doing the mating call, spouting up water.
Where is the Italian garden, its flowers grow prettily.

Sunday, April 06, 2014

The Dentist, a short script

Nathan:  I am…alone.
Aunt Mindy:  Oh, sill, you’re being all dramatic again.  This time, let’s add tears to the sniffling.
Nathan:  I wasn’t sniffling.  I was yelling.
Aunt Mindy:  No way are you going to get girl by yelling.
Nathan:  Then how do you get a girl?
Aunt Mindy:  By…groveling.  That’s how my Howard and I did it.  Apparently, Sally said I was the one to grovel first.
Nathan:  That’s something to be proud of…right?
Aunt Mindy.  You’re asking a lot of questions.  If you be polite, I’ll give you some mints.  
Nathan:  I don’t want some mints…I want to know how to get a girl.
Aunt Mindy:  And then what do you plan on doing with this girl?
Nathan:  I thought I was supposed to marry her.
Aunt Mindy:  That is one way.  Or you could take her to the dentist.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

All Alone, an uncompleted script.

(Kid shoulders his backpack.  The end of another school day.  The bells are ringing in the hallway and kids are zooming every which way, trying to get out of Berrymill Elementary School as fast as their legs can carry them.  The kid slowly drags his feet.  He didn’t want to go home, to see his sick, bed-ridden mother.  It was too scary, too real.  He shoulders his backpack again, sighs, and hurries out the double doors of the school.)
(Kid starts to walk home.  It is a pleasant day outside; the birds are singing; the sun is high in the sky.  He goes past Rite Aid, and walks two more blocks before finally reaching home.  He takes a deep breath, and opens the door.  He steps inside, his heart beating a mile a minute-will his mother be better, or worse?  His heart sinks.  She’s still laying in bed.  Kid walks over to her and kisses her cheek.  Then, he rearranges her blankets so they’re tucked under her chin.)  Hi, Mom.
Mom:  Hello, sweetie, how was school?
Kid (a bit sharply):  Fine.
Mom:  Do you have homework?
(Kid bobs his head):  Lots.
Mom:  I have an errand for you.  I need you to go to the store and help me get the groceries.  We’re almost out of everything.
Kid:  You can’t go to the store in your condition.  I’ll get Dad-
Mom:  No, no.  I’ll do it.  Doctor says I have to get up and about anyway.  Good, your coat is still on.  (She throws the covers off of her and drags herself off the couch.  She goes to the coat closet and puts on a blue jacket.)  Let’s go, honey.
Kid (sighs):  All right, Mom, if this is what you want.
Mom (sharply):  You’re starting to sound a lot like your dad.
Kid:  Takes one to know one!  (He hops into the car and his mother slides behind the wheel in the driver’s seat.)
(Soon, they reach the grocery store.  His mother pulls the car into a parking spot-close to the door-and turns around to face her son.)  Fill it up as much as you can.  Here’s two hundred dollars.
(Kid takes the money):  All right, Mom, if you say so.
Mom:  I say so.
(Kid hurries out of the car and into the store.  It is bustling with activity.  He grabs a cart and starts going down the aisles.  Halfway down the flour aisle, a man approaches him.)
Man:  What are you doing in here, kid?
Kid:  I’m shopping for my mother.
Man:  I’m sorry I asked.
(Kid takes the cart and hurries down another aisle.)
(Kid makes his purchases and takes the groceries out to the car.  His mother gets out of the front seat and helps put the groceries in the trunk.  Then, he hops into the car again and they head home.)
*
Dad:  Thanks for helping your mother today, son.  It was a big help.
Kid:  It was no problem.  Except this guy asked me what I was doing in the grocery store by myself.
Dad:  Just tell him the truth, son.  That’s all you can do.
Kid:  I guess so.
Dad:  Have you done your homework yet?
Kid:  No, not yet.  It’s not a lot, really.
Dad:  Get to it, son.  We want you to be a learned person, not illiterate like some folk.
Kid:  Okay, Dad.

See & Hear.

I see and hear differently.  I make my mark.
Tomorrow will be a better day than today.
Tomorrow the sky will be blue, not rainy like it is
Today.  This is what I’m doing:  fishing, hoping
To catch a whale.  They are massive in size,
And twice as hungry-maybe the whale will
Eat me instead.  I can’t think about that right now.
I have to hurry and get packing, so I will be
Ready to get on that boat that is going to launch
Soon.  Hurry, hurry, it needs to get here fast.
I hope my good times last.  This is not what I’m
Thinking.  Better days, better ways-sit now on
Sunflowers, looking at the soft rain, dreaming
Of the whale.  The boat needs to be fixed.  I’ll call
Dale and have him come fix it-he’s a master of
Fixing the broken and the sad-it’s why I love him.
Different ways, soft, caramel days.  That’s why I’m here.
The muse is clear.  Nothing but tomorrow to ease me
Forward-this is night, now, and stars fill the sky with
Barren ease, and the ease comes when I’m ready-
Nothing will last.  I hope it will.

Sunday, March 09, 2014

Nowhere.

My mind is ready
To be healed
I am ready for the forlorn
Look my grandmother will give me
at the funeral

I am not steady.  My heart is not
Steady.
Where do I belong?  I have found nowhere
Will suffice.  Nowhere, nowhere,
The ground I walk upon.

Forgotten.

I share the reason beyond reason-
I take my heart with me.
Everything is bound to be something different,
Don’t take yourself to the highest point.
The highest point is ready or not,
My life has been forgotten.  Everyone is staring
At me, I don’t know what to do about it.
My life is a crowd.  People crowd in my house
And won’t let me live.  They crowd on the stairs,
In the basement-I can’t get up the stairs.  Tell me,
What is it you seek, do you wish for reasons unknown,
The breakfast bunny has come to take me home,
I have forgotten what it is I believe in.

Wednesday, March 05, 2014

That Girl is Poison.

a song

That girl is poison, poison, poison
She rolls around like a dice in the sky

The wind comes back and here I cry,
A warthog sings a lullabye

Do you know what time is worth?
This silly man thinks poorly of birth.

I ate a hamburger all alone,
One hand on my xylophone.

That girl is poison, poison, poison,
I see her for who she is.

She waves at me from a distance.
Her hair is in a fritz.

Say lullabye and goodnight,
We hold together all through the night.

Each of us have our own,
Her hands are still as stone.

That girl is poison, poison, poison,
That girl is poison, poison, poison.

Jasper's Place, a short play



Jasper:  How long did it take you to get here?
Sam:  About fifteen minutes.
Jasper:  That’s not too bad, is it?
Sam:  No, it’s not.
Jasper:  Do you want to go fishing?
Sam:  No, it’s freezing out there!  I wouldn’t go fishing for a million dollars in this weather.
Jasper:  You’re crazy.  It’s not cold out.  (he grabs his coat from off the coach and puts it on.)  There.  Now, I’m ready.
Sam:  I thought we were going to hang out, not go ice fishing?
Jasper:  I’m not going ice fishing, I’m going regular fishing.
Sam:  Oh, that makes a big difference.  Let’s have some beers.
Jasper:  Okay, but going ice fishing is better than a beer.
(Sam gaasps.):  Oh, no, you did not just say that!
Jasper:  I did and I mean every word of it.
Sam:  You take that back!
Jasper:  I will not.
Sam:  Yes, you will.  Take it back, I said!
(The front door opens and closes.  A teenager steps inside the house.  She has long, dark hair and blue eyes.)  Hi, Dad.
Jasper:  Hi, pumpkin.
Sara:  Don’t call me pumpkin, you know I hate that.
Jasper:  None of your friends are around.
Sara:  That’s true, that’s true…why do you have your coat on, are you going somewhere?
Jasper:  I was going to go ice fishing, but Sam wouldn’t let me.
Sam:  It’s for your own good.

Where Was I?



March is settling in.  There is still snow on
The ground.  I am the cheese and macaroni you have for dinner.
I am the great Ghandi.  Don’t tell me March isn’t settling in,

I didn’t know it the first time before we woke at dawn
And the world came crashing down on our heads.  Sometimes,
I wait for you in the middle of the night, dreaming of your soft,

Silken hands and nose.  This is what I see:  a guy belonging
To me, seeing me for who I am, not what I can do for him.

I look outside the window and see the rain falling on the windowpane,
Rain scares me like violence scares others.  The patter of rain is like
Gunshots going off.  The patter of rain is like birds’ wings flying

North to Florida or Alabama.  I see better now.  I seek better resolutions.
I see myself crying.  It is what it is, born before us of greatness,

And words, round and clear as glass.

Where was I?

Left Me.

He left me like a warthog leaves a sunrise
He left me in the middle of the purple night
He left me like flowers growing
He left me
He left me
Still I see him standing near the sea shore,
Smiling at the open sky
He left me unattended
He left me without my purse and nakedness

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Again.

He told me he didn’t want to see me again;
that that was the end of our romance.
Out of place in the restaurant,
I began to cry-the words silently rolled down my cheeks.
Everything was falling apart, including my dress.
I accidently tore it on the way inside the restaurant,
my knee caps showing.  Anyway, he left me for a girl
I didn’t like.  I pray  he will return to me.
We are meant to be together.
The flowers he gave me for last Valentine’s Day
are still sitting on my dresser in my bedroom.
I can’t stand crying in public.
I gave up everything for us to be together,
it wasn’t worth it now, I see it now,
standing in front of me like a tidal wave
climbing up into the burnt brown sky.
His eyes are brown.
He gets up, throws money on the table, and leaves,
with me crying after him-”Don’t go.”

I move to the ocean to get away from memories
of him-he left his clothes there, in our old apartment, and I picture him
wandering around naked somewhere, and my eyes smile a bit.
Not too much.  This is what it feels like to have a heart broken-
I never had one before, this is my first time.
I capture the image of him in my mind,
the way his hair wove about his head,
the way he smiled, and his laughter that was like the trill of a bird.
 I seek him in my mind.
This is what I seek.

Time and Song, etc.

In the steel mines, the birds are singing with upturned throats-
They see the importance of being important.

I follow my heart with a recorder, life bangs on steel drums.
What I said was, “I can’t take the heat,” to the ballpark manager

And everyone else was fitted for a dress-to me, everything was simple
And workable.  I couldn’t place my agony today.  Where was I?

Time flies by.  Birds make time sing a double note.
I can’t find myself in a mirror, these words I hold dear to me.

With every living thing, I sing a simple song.  My work here is done.
I move on.  With a ratio.  Time stands still.  Everything is workable,

Plus food is needed for the stomach-
I heart today and yesterday-

I know no bounds.  What did I do?  To make time go more slowly.
What did I do to make you go away.  My heart aches for a sticky bun.

I wish I were far from here, a place where I could sing my all,
A place where time is entwined in my own hands.

Saturday, February 08, 2014

The Park

Walking in the park on a lazy day afternoon-
Ducks swim in the pond, and I watch them carefully,
To make sure they don’t drown.  Willows whisper
To me excitedly-
I can’t stand them!  They annoy me!  The park is bright
With sunshine,
And I smell honeysuckle on each side of the sidewalk.
The honeysuckle makes me think of home,
For my mother used to grow them in her yard.
Honeysuckles rule the flowers, they are the queen of
The roses and daisies.  It’s the poet in me, I guess,
To know the names of flowers in my head-
I watch them move back and forth in the breeze,
Then I watch the ducks again, the tiniest one makes
Me think “Awww, how cute,” and I smile prettily.

Sunday, February 02, 2014

The River.

The clouds come in from the west-it is bitterly cold.
The wolf is laying in his den; icy coldness made from silk
Pours from his nostrils.  The sun is icy, too.  Everything is covered
In ice.  The wolf’s stomach growls.  He wants some food.  He gets up,
And goes for the hunt-a lone rabbit nestled between a tree and a blade
Of grass is his target.  The rabbit sees and bounds into the forest.  The forest
Is practically empty, except for houses on either side.  No one is home,
But they, too, know about the wolf.  Who knows about the wolf?  It asks itself.
Everyone!  That’s why there are so few of them left.  The wolf goes about,
Looking for food.  It sees a river.  What is a river?  Rivers are wide,
And haunt humans.  Humans know nothing but fear.  The joy is in the fear.
The wolf dunks his paw into the river, trying to catch a fish-he tries again,
And again.  His stomach growls.  The wolf comes in threes, and the river
Comes in threes, over and over again, climbing higher into the sky,
The trees see everything, but the wind does not..

Saturday, January 25, 2014

In Paris



The night falls on me mercilessly.
My eyes open and close like shades.
I went to the harbor and watched the boats
come in-there are lights flickering
In the windows of the boats.
I turned my eyes away.
It’s hard to watch this all day.
I start walking, my head bent forward,
and the wind flicks my hair every which way.
There are the sounds of boats on the harbor.
Some boats are big; others are small
As cars.  The little boats speed along like nobody’s business.
I walk down the street,
People scream my name-now, how would they know that,
I think to myself, they couldn’t
Know my name, for certain-I don’t know any
of these people!  I am an American, not
French, not European.  In the back of my mind,
I sense danger-the danger of an oncoming
Storm.  The storm of my youth.
Words come from my lips:  “I need to eat.”
So I go into a little café on the end of
Bridge Road.  Bridge Road has a lot of shops.

What the Eagle



The eagle soars with its limbs-I have not been outside today.
The hearts of dreams that I play, are withered in shades of gray.
Everyone says I should be a serpent, quick and loud-
But all I am is a toad.

Where are all the people, I ask.
I found my nerves at last.

I shoulder fortune like a lamb,
For lunch I want a ham.

I’m not an eagle, but I take flight.
In the dark of the bitter, and cold, night.

The snow is falling and the eagle is at rest-
Snow falls upon his nest.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

To the middle, to the middle

Of it all.  He catches me while I fall.  

I can’t find myself
Behind the tree-delicious cakes in a cake shop, I have fallen
In love with baking.  

The old mother tells me she has a book of cakes,

And do I want to look at them.  

I said no, I shouldn’t be thinking 
about
Cakes at this time of night, or day, 

I should say, it’s only 4pm.  I have fallen
Off a cliff into an abyss, the abyss is in my garage, 

wrapped in tar paper.
Sometimes I watch tv at night.  

There’s nothing on.  
So I make up stories to myself,
That sound just about right.  

The middle is not about right.  It’s the middle, I said!
The middle!

I stare straight at the sun.  I’m not the only one.  

The Street, the Street

Where am I?  Why am I here?  My words are crystal clear.
The cowboy walks with his head held high.  I couldn’t find a way down
The dark street.

A man follows behind me, quickly-where can I go?
I am lost on the hill below.
Take me to a different place that is far from here,
Where I can be safe from harm.  Take me to a place that is forever warm.
The old man wants icecream.
His name is Seth.  Seth, call to me,
my beloved

Brother, call to me in the depths of the
night, night as dark as sin.  I might win.
I have no idea, nothing to contemplate.
Where did reason run off to?  I like to run
With the wind blowing my hair back.
It’s simple as this:  I have a boat,
I offered my maiden fair to ride it with me,
she said no,

she was afraid of the wind
And dogs.  There are no dogs in the water, I whisper to her.
There are no dogs anywhere!
My shout was lost in the wind.  The sun glares down.
I can’t see past my forehead,
I can’t see for anything.
I walk away from the boat and go down town.

Saturday, January 04, 2014

The Key

The key was in my hand,
I walked through town-
My mind was thrown like a rubber band,
I have called my own.

Dreams are plenty here on earth,
Yet I have seen it for myself,
There goes a flower giving birth,
I hope his baby is in good health.

Old lady, what do you plead,
Your skirt hangs around your knees.
You’re the only one who can lead,
A convention just like these.

Take me higher than a bird,
This place is not for me.
I speak in hushed voices for the word,
I wish to God I were free.

Don’t drown in doubt,
We need to be paying attention now.
I know you can go without,
Another forbidden show.

The Corridor

The corridor was brown and thin,
This was the mess I was in-
Taken by so many glares,
My foot hit the stairs.

The dark was in the dark,
I could barely see-
My lighter lit a single spark,
And it was in front of me.

Take me outside, where it was warm,
The sun is like a hearth.
I have seen through the storm,
I have seen a mother give birth.

Tell me words that are spoken,
The bird has been flying east-
The vase I have broken,
The work was not my best.

The Eyes, Stares

The eye stares at me from a great abyss.

It is neither thin nor glowing.
In time, the eye will stop staring, but for now it is staring-straight at me.

The strange shadows of oneness have come back.  There is nothing that I lack.
Take me outside, and bring yourself into myself like a bitter rose rising from

The ashes.  I am rising.  I find myself glaring back at people.  I don’t like people

As much as animals.  Animals are properly trained-humans are not.  I have begun

My training in the springtime-there’s nothing else for me to do.  I am learning kung fu.

Japan is the place where I have made my home.  I love their food, their music,
And their dance.

What can I show you that won’t make you bothered by me?  What can I show you that will
Bend myself backwards outside of war?  I have helped myself by becoming something other
Than myself, I have become someone else’s property.  There is a sign in my yard, saying
For Smalls.”  I would, but I can’t.  It’s dinnertime anad I’m hungry.  Make me dinner.

Night comes, and I am sleepy.  People target me.  The hole keeps getting bigger, and bigger.
Light flashes in my vision.  I try to sleep.  Sleep will not come.  Help me dream.
In the morning, I take a ride on the train and return back home.

Bleed Me Dry

In London, I found myself huddled in the rain, wishing I were somewhere else-
A dog barks in someone’s yard, and I looked at him, all wide-eyed and wondering.
The cold spread through my body.  My coat was soaked wet,
My hair was matted.

I didn’t know where my home was, or where I was going.  The war had been going on for hours,
And the bitter cold left me shivering-in fear or coldness, I wonder if it’s both.  Time will tell.

Yes, time.  I have learned about time as a little child, sitting on my grandfather’s lap.  He said
I shouldn’t be there, I should be with my family in this time of war-time is a funny thing,
All numbers and circles.  Yes.  Time is hidden inside of me, like a small bird trying to break free.
I don’t understand this parable.  I don’t understand anything unless it is told by my grandfather,
I am but a child, trying to break free.  I never knew anything about metaphors,
I never knew anything about no words.

Sometimes the spectacles of life frighten me like a forbidden object trapped in the sand.  The sand of time.
There’s time again, I can’t find time anymore.  It washed away in the ocean, where the sharks are,
Sharks I am afraid of, just like time and all other things.  Where do I belong?  I don’t know, it hurts
To think about it.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  It’s nothing to fear.  I am poor.  The poorness continues
To bleed me dry.  I am going to find a warm place.