Monday, October 27, 2008

Quote: Sylivia Plath Poem: T A Delmore

Sylvia Plath said, "Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise."

Shopping Cart Blues

Hold my hand and squeeze
Cantaloupes. Push the cart
As I disappear underneath.
Ridged steel and unpaid
Groceries, essentials
Dad would mutter throwing
A bag of potatoes to my back.
Wurlitzer sounds bring me down
Isles that once held that big fire
Truck over frozen peas. Holiday fare.

Take me where you will
To the end
Of meat counters
The beginning of checkout lines.
No one pushes me down
Linoleumed isles anymore.
I am the giant to smiling eyes
Under the haul of carted food.
Gone are the organ sounds
Of Montavani in return
Is the smell of Havarti,
And too many memories.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Autumn Poem by Tom Delmore


I am looking for autumn
in the staghorn sumac,
the gold of the vine maple,
the absence of apples.
A creeping cool that turns

furnaces on and stale odors
out. Fall has found me,
taking a ritual
of beauty, beyond the buoyancy

of my parents dreams, older than
the Bible. Autumn renowned
till cold puts pigment to mounds
blended for burning
or bagging.

All this pressed, years past
between wax paper
and taped to school windows.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

We are in Austin Texas this week.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Quote: Toni Morrison Poem TA Delmore

Toni Morrison wrote, "They straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places ... but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. ... All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place." I posted this quote in Abbey of the arts blog.

Who’s Sport?

She does Tai Chi with less guilt.
Baseball books sell better in winter.
Her husband would never understand
DiMaggio a coffee spokesman.
Forever, his sultan of swat.

Soft feet on red brick
The thrill of the grass
Or the grasshopper position.
He can catch fly balls
She can move energy.

She will eat
Her husband one day
Mantis-like, sell
His baseball books
And keep her Mr. Coffee.

Till then his kiss
Is a double latté
No foam.