It’s a hot hot summer day. You find that even thinking takes it out of you. And then you see a stand selling granita di caffe. Coffee, frozen and crushed to a mush and with a cap of whipped cream on top. Does that count as coffee? I suppose it does for it brings youContinue reading “Coffee”
Category Archives: Poems
Colleen/Guardian Angel
Aren’t we all supposed to have guardian angels? They may not be all that interested in their charges, and sometimes seem to disregard them completely. There’s one in particular who seems to have forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. In any case my friend Colleen Garvey caught him sleeping. She said he was theContinue reading “Colleen/Guardian Angel”
Friends
A warm summer night. A man and a woman are animatedly conversing as they drive up into the hills. Fireflies are flashing against the velvety black woods. She’s not quite sure how the conversation took this turn, but she finds herself on the defensive. A friend, she says, always remains a friend even when theirContinue reading “Friends”
Solitude
A gift of old age. Or a curse. To learn to take in hand, and not to be subjected to. To be ardently sought for. Solitude, allowing us to think, move perhaps back into the past which is the basis of all we do, the past of things best forgotten, or the foundation of theContinue reading “Solitude”
Conversation and Mario
An Italian friendship and conversations, and eventually letters: How does one begin to write about a person, about a friendship with its strange ties and bonds, and even stronger boundaries? Mario and I were simply two people who found pleasure in each other’s company. We demanded very little, yet the time we gave each otherContinue reading “Conversation and Mario”
Sky Blue Pink
When asked, she would sayher favorite color wassky-blue pink.Like the baseboards and window framesin her room.On the white-papered wallsfairies and elves were drawn in colored chalkscavorting among mushrooms and bluebellsunder the vigilant eye of Raggedy Ann and Andy,as she admonished her little sister not to touchuntil she had sprayed them with fixativ.There were white dustContinue reading “Sky Blue Pink”
Waiting Again
Inspired by John Looker. Thank you, John. “With the voices of those who were dead speaking even now in her ears she was lost in a world beyond place or time …” from “How the Dead Spoke to Odyssea,” in Shimmering Horizons by John Looker, Bennison Books, 2021. Waiting again. As always. DANGER. NO ACCESS. The signContinue reading “Waiting Again”
The Archaeologist and Food
Food, forever food One of my sons is an archaeologist. His younger brother started out as a naturalist. Both ended up involved with wild boars. My older archaeologist son is also into cooking. Particularly the “archaeological” aspect. Years ago he tried making beer the original Egyptian way, sprouting and roasting hops (using a friend’s potteryContinue reading “The Archaeologist and Food”
Learning Italian
If one wants to become acquainted with a culture, one really should become involved with the language. And of course, vice versa. There are different ways to do it and I suppose I did all of them. Studying grammar and dictionaries, reading whatever came to hand, speaking with everyone whether a stranger or not, friendships,Continue reading “Learning Italian”
Claudio and The Little Owl
Ten o’clock and all is dark. Returning from a festa at Lugnano in Teverina where there has been a skype connection with Arizona concerning the dig of a Roman villa. The people in the square are still busy eating, perhaps have begun dancing. The medieval church with its portico that once sheltered pilgrims now resoundsContinue reading “Claudio and The Little Owl”
Trees
John Muir loved trees and so do I. Remember reading how he would climb up to the top of a sequoia and sway back and forth with the tree in the wind. He never saw a discontented tree, he said. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast-rooted they travel aboutContinue reading “Trees”
The Box
On Finding a Box (1994?) A dusty brown corrugated cardboard box, stained and faded, the kind your groceries come in. Put on the shelf outside, in the shed behind the house, a miracle it didn’t get rained on – when the boys cleaned out their grandpa’s desk after he died two years ago. Now theContinue reading “The Box”
Dialogues
There’s an elegantly dressed woman who has a wine shop around the corner from me. Most people simply know her as Svetlana. I have no idea what her last name is and probably wouldn’t know how to pronounce it, for she is originally Serbian. According to Google Svetlana is a common Orthodox Slavic feminine name,Continue reading “Dialogues”
Things Haven’t Changed Much
In 1955 if you were in Italy and wanted to make an international phone call, you had to go to the post office and get on a waiting list. The mails did seem to work a bit better though. A postcard sent to me at my NY address was forwarded to me at American ExpressContinue reading “Things Haven’t Changed Much”
Digits
A poem noted in my journal for 2013. I think it’s mine, particularly since there’s a reference to “Twas the night before Christmas”, but it if isn’t I thank whoever wrote it. (From 2013) One two three Trinity. God Christ the Holy Spirit Spirits Gin and vodka Grappa Grapes hanging on the vine. Five sixContinue reading “Digits”
New York Days — Snippets
Snippet I A day in NYC, when I was young, perhaps 1950 The day was bright and sunny. At least I think it was. It certainly wasn’t raining. Briskly I set off across town with a little trepidation at my boldness doing its best to keep up with me. My destination was somewhere around 28thContinue reading “New York Days — Snippets”
Reflections on a Train
Once upon a time we traveled by train. In compartments seating maybe eight people, four facing another four. Sometimes there would be conversation, even intimate confessions, as if the speaker were talking to her therapist, convinced none of the other would ever see each other again. It was persons interacting with persons. Going even furtherContinue reading “Reflections on a Train”
Portraits
Sometimes a photograph, a chance remark, will spark a post for my weekly blog. Particularly when I think I am running out of subjects to write about. I can also draw from a store of things written over the years, but that may not be fair. Sometimes it may be a chance remark, or somethingContinue reading “Portraits”
Requiem for Gandalf
Nov. 26, 1993 They telephoned to say he was no more. The laughter at the supper table died – no one said a word and then the sounds came haltingly. Last night – Gandalf was his name. The Grey Eminence. Gandalf the Grey Wizard (thanks to Tolkien). Each of us had different thoughts. Yours, myContinue reading “Requiem for Gandalf”
Pirandello
The year 2022. A young woman writes to her great grand aunt that she is opening a book she has been wanting to read for a while. “One, No One, and a Hundred-thousand” by Luigi Pirandello. Unexpected memories of almost 70 years earlier rose to the surface of when, as a graduate of Columbia University, theContinue reading “Pirandello”
Erika Bizzarri 