Poetry Journal Jan. 7, 2023


 


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Positive omens? Dec. 24, 2023

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      In a week heavily endowed with omens, I thought for certain seeing the funeral procession on our way to Asbury Park posed a dark day ahead. After the amazing omen from our Thanksgiving trip (the whales), I hoped for nothing to counter this positive vibe. The trip down went smoothly, with the except of a few whacko drivers pretending to be Indy 500 racers, and we parked in our usual spot near the top of Asbury where it interacts with Cookman and took our usual stroll, peering into the old merry-go-round house before passing the fake Christmas tree of lights, the Empress Hotel (with its rainbow street crossing) and down the board walk from the Casino to the Coliseum. Even though we had arrived late, the boardwalk was largely empty – although there were a few groups of people on the beach, foolishly standing on the slick jetty stones to pose for pictures. Even inside the coliseum, the only crowd was at the coffee shop, and even this was less well-attended tha...
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Natural law October 18, 2023

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    I saw the pigeon after I had put out stale bread for the birds to feed on. He looked healthy, although he clearly had troubles since when the other pigeons flew off when I came into the yard, she did not. She was either injured or young, but she could not fly, walking around on the concrete in search of food while the others later congregated under the feeder where small birds dumped seed on the ground where they could feed. I spread some seed near the crippled bird only to have the flock of healthier birds swarm down on it, stealing whatever seed it could reach. Worse still, the two young cats that come and go from our yard took notice of the pigeon and began to stalk it. I had seen these cats hunting smaller birds a few days earlier, managing to catch one, which they tortured (played with) for some time before mercifully murdering it. I did not want them to do this to an even more helpless bird. I shooed the cats away. Eventually, I took up the bird, put it i...
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The more things change Dec. 11, 2023

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    The rain came in spurts as I made my way to Secaucus for my usual Sunday laundry. I don’t always go to Secaucus, sometimes returning to the old neighborhood in Passaic -- as I will likely do next Sunday when I visit the grave of Peggy, and the graves of my ancestors in the other Lodi cemeteries, dating back to John the Baptist Sarti, who arrived here just after the Civil War. But most weeks, I don’t want to travel that far as was the case yesterday, when I parked near the laundromat, put my laundry into the machines, then headed off to the Dunkin a block away for coffee, a Dukin I briefly worked for after I got fired from the Garfield Dunkin just before my wedding in October 1990 (a time when I had four part time jobs, three of them at different Dunkins, and a fourth as a cleaner for a firm that manufactured elixirs straight out of the 1800s. My history with Secaucus goes back to the 1960s when Hank and I used to pass through it on our way to New York City, at a time...
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