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30 + Days/30 Poems

I have lost a piece of me and though I love Lost Roads, I never intended to lose anything essential. Thus, 30+ Days/30 Poems is an attempt to find a few of the missing pieces that lay tattered in the nooks and crannies I've neglected. From February 19 to Whenever (I am working though to make "whenever" not never). I will try to write one unedited poem per day (try is the key word here). It will be written on this blog without any rough draft, notes, or outline. They will be short and to the point. They will be unknown to me until they are finished.

My Weather

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Leftovers

We are putting on the miles
Flying over Alps
Across oceans
Lofting over air pockets
Going white knuckled here and there
Staying in-doors when the temps
Get too hot
Wandering down alleys of ancient cities
Listening to thunder storms rumble in the mountains

A year ago I thought that it all had
Been taken away
But here I am
Here we are
Again on some adventure
Sitting in cafes
Or on the beach
Or in a forest
Climbing roads to castles
Or highways to health clinics
Drinking wheatgrass and trying to eat RAW
Walking faster than ever
Riding harder than before
Leaving gleanings for the G-ds
Morsels
Leftovers

Stealing Dreams

Tell me your dream
Tell it to me in black and white
With black and white flowers
Whose petals are not withered
Whose petals are fresh as virgin winds
Blowing hot in Utah's Canyonlands

Show me your dream
Show me where it will take you
Let me imagine it for myself
So that I can smell those Bermuda flowers
From miles out at sea
Before land even crests the horizon

Hand me your dream
Let me hold it tightly to my chest
Squeeze it till I cry
So that my tears will in some way come to symbolize
This dream so out of reach
Yet so real-
That it has no choice
Then to become my own.

Race in Meggido

Oh gosh...the extra large shirt is blowing in the wind slowing me down and giving me a ballon like look! No matter, was a fun race and I was actually focused (at least at this point) as the look might suggest. J

Forrest Blowing in the Wind

Morning Ride

Oh, the times were really good today. Did a bit over 36 miles on and off road at a high intensity most of the way. Also did 8 sprints (scheduled in two-minute clips) lasting 30 seconds each. My times on the 2.6 mile course, that I do five times at the start, were well below the 9 minute mark that I aim for. In fact, of late my times were around 9:15 to 9:30 per lap. The new bike and forks make a huge difference. Also, the tubeless tires, which have less air and grab the corners much better, are unbelievably fast. Thus, I did decreasing times, all under 9 minutes, for the first time in years. Here are the times:
8:58
8:45
8:40
8:38
8:24

Should always be that fast!

For You

Please note:

I received your threatening letter today
And put some acid in your hair spray
So that when you wake-up in the morning
And see the bald places on your pate
You’ll know I was there.

I received your threatening letter today
And called your brother to read it to him
So that we could discuss
How utterly insane you had finally become
So the straitjacket in the box
That will arrive at noon
Is really for you.

I received your threatening letter today
And found myself laughing out loud
Because I always suspected this was who you were
And all of your meanness is not as bad
As the hornet nest we’ve planted under your bed.

I received your threatening letter today
And at first was a bit intimidated
By how evil you really are:
But I’ve laughed
Given you acid
Helped you into a straitjacket
And have given you nasty welts
So at least you now know how I feel
After receiving your threatening letter today.

Evelyn’s Porch

Evelyn wore turquoise on the night they took her away
And even her ceramic dog seemed to shed a tear
When the car drove off and the candles were lit

The tangerine marshmallows that she roasted
On her front porch last summer
Still sat in her cupboard where I would find them
Fastened tight with a blue clothespin
But filled with ants that had managed
To work their way in through the one small hole
On the bottom of the bag

We loved Evelyn and her strange wolf like laugh
We loved her for her bowlegged stance
And piercing blue eyes
That screamed: “Don’t mess with me or I’ll cut your balls off”
Her sardonic outlook on yesterday’s news
And refusal to conjecture on any future events
She stood her ground and made you retreat
Out of respect more than fear
Out of a desire to acquiesce rather than provoke

Everyone knew where she lived and even strangers
Would come by and give their regards
As if Evelyn was a dignitary of regal descent
A retinue of friends would sit deep into the night
On her porch drinking Thunderbird mixed in lemonade
Bathed in a deep purple neon light
From a sign on her wall that said, “Home”

There I sat too with friends and
Strangers who wandered by
Smoking cigars so that all you saw
Was the orange glow in their faces
That at times looked more like
Cyclopean fantasies of youth
Than people who were just sitting for awhile
Listening to Evelyn opine about biscuits
Or her sore ankles and back

We brought her flowers and helped her cut her grass
Pruned her bushes and painted over her porch
Each spring
Replaced the rotted wood
Patched the screening
Giving it a quilt like look
Though from a distance
You would never know

Evelyn got old on that porch
As we all did

My brother’s harp could still be heard
After the car that took Evelyn
Vanished round the one turn in our road
That led from our cluster of homes

When night descended again
We drank another round of Thunderbird
And one stranger leaned forwards
Blowing a cloud of smoke
That slowly rose towards the
Neon light
Blurring out the blinking word, “Home”
For just an instance-
Then we let the silence
Fill us all.

Get Off Your Butt!

Wow! What a week. E's test results are great! We have so much to be thankful for and I could not ask for more. Of course, of course, of course I realize this is no guarantee, no miracle, no nothing. Cancer is ever so dangerous and ever so pernicious. Just when you get the least bit comfortable... But I/we can't live like that so live will go on (though filled with wheatgrass and other wonderful green drinks and as much RAW food as the stomach can handle).

Had a student tell me off for telling her that throwing garbage was something she should address. She informed me that I drive an SUV (geeze, I also ride my bike to work twice a week too but I guess she missed that), which I do to protect myself from the insanity on the highways here and also to avoid traffic as I go through the fields whenever I can get out of the long lines. Whatever, I dedicate the following link, which is a story from the current Runners World on Matt Long who got dragged under a bus in NY. What a tough guy who just has no quit in him. We could all learn a bit from him (as I surely can too!):

Photos of me riding on Friday in Ramat gan as a storm blew but never quite came in to rain on me! New frame on bike (and lots of new parts too).

But if I keep going against the wind
Keep testing my toes over the rim
Then I am sure to fall

Sure to fall where no one will hear
The soft thud
Then the ensuing silence
As another sunrise
Goes from blue, to red, to day

It's spring and things are good
So why think about the rim
It is better just to let the sun
Do its morning dance
While I stand soldier like
Watching large holes in the ground
Collect light as they always have
Filling in their shadows and edges
While clouds of unearthly
Early morning color
Drift aimlessly.

If ya click...it will get bigger showing my ugly mug! Jamie

Trivial and Real

I like the sound of your voice
The way it wakes me from my afternoon sleep
Or calls me on the phone in the middle of a class
Like tonight when we drove home
And you chose all the stores on Hertzl Street
With goodies you wanted me to buy for you
If you were ever in the hospital again-
Things that I could easily afford
Others that I couldn't
Trivial and real
Sitting side-by-side
Like that spot on Meron
During that first date

I like the sound of your voice
In a world too short
In a world too loud
This place where co-workers you've known for years
Have so little real to say
And can only shoot you up like tetanus shots
Unable to mainline you with anything significant
Cotton candy and dandruff

I like the sound of your voice
Even when I say I don't
For it fills that void
That any honest man admits he has
And thinking about a world
That could exist without you
Has kept me up so many nights
These past eight months
I just like the sound of your voice.

Only Clouds and Rock

So I think I can see
The rocks and rainbow colors
Of Mizpe as a dream

But I fool myself

For this crater
This big hole in the ground
Is too complex
Too old
Too convoluted in time
For a simpleton like me
To grasp

And what I end up seeing
Is nothing more than clouds and rock

(p.s. Click on the photo...it gets big and really nice! J.M. The Simpleton)

My friends says
That all the colors in the Rainbow
All the ice in the sea
All the rabbits in that
Obscure trilogy that I would never read-
Don't exist

He cleans pools on hot summer mornings in Denver
Looking towards the foothills of the Rockies
Waiting for the evening thunderstorm
To come rumbling to his doorstep
While he watches a ballgame and
Chugs down his third beer of the night
Calling me between innings to give me the score
Bitching how players today...

Last year we went camping in the desert
When the moon came up and lit the ground
-Like a crazy miner's headlamp-
It illuminated the Hoodoos that surrounded our site:
We heard the report of a pistol somewhere miles away
A shooting star blazed in the sky losing itself in the horizon
While my friend played softly on his harmonica

Sometimes I think the most perfect days
-The ones that you look back on-
The ones that stick in you like a splinter from a boardwalk
Are those filled with indelible images and sounds
We just forget the rest.

Poo Poohing

Some say the theories
Some say the plans
Get lost in muddle
Blown in the sand
Delivered to Vegas to perform in a show
Hitch up with hookers
But then have to go.

Consigned to your basement
Where they mold and decay
Get taken to yard fairs
At the end of the day
Are auctioned by barkers
In carnival shows
End up back in the basement
Where nobody knows.

The doctors with drugs
That they shoot in your veins
Tell you the studies are valid
They cure you or kill you
It's all just the same
For it's theory you know
That really matters

But I am wandering and struggling
With what I really meant to say
I am going nowhere with my blather
I am drifting and shipwrecked
Throwing up on the quay
Looking for words I might gather.

Whoa
Stretch that smile
Any tighter
And you are going to
Take all the creases
Out of your face

Not That Smart X

Sitting in a meeting today
Discussing what needs to be discussed
Or perhaps not discussed but who is to say?
We got round to the crux of the matter
And decided that X was "Not that smart"

I cringe when we wrap our children in IQ blankets
Sugar them up with psych reports
Toast them in our files for their Schooling

I am not a person who feels that Smart is limited
To schooling
For we are always being schooled
Everyday we live
And if smart is that time from 8-3
Or standardized CAT or SAT
Then call me Stupid

For Smart to me is going forwards
Taking chances
Making changes
Heading out to the highway with a backpack and a plan
Going places with a notebook and a pen
To write poetry
Or just a few lines
In a tattered diary
That your dad gave to you
Right before he died.