cummings

(1

The
page
was
a pot
into
which
he
threw
his
in
gred
ients

a
pinch
of
this
a
pinch
of
that

and
he
never
stirred
his
words
which
is
why
they
stuck
to
the
sides
like
crust

2)

like
Rapunzel
in
the
fairy
tale
who
hung
her hair
down
from
a
high
tower
window

cummings
hung
his
poems
down
and
let
us
climb
up
into
his
mind

Marion 1

My Aunt Marion,
a petite woman with blond hair,
was the matriarch of the Wildes family
a clan of 16 brothers and sisters

she achieved that role not through power
but by simply being a natural catalyst
around which everyone else seemed to gravitate -
of all the siblings she was physically the frailest
but possessed the greatest emotional strength

she always reminded me of Doris Day
a famous actress of that time
perhaps because she styled her hair in a similar way
or because she liked singing "Que Sera Sera"
(Whatever Will Be Will Be)

Marion had infinite patience
was extremely creative,
but a terrible cook - which was unfortunate
because she hosted most of the holiday gatherings

the family relegated her to desserts and beverages
under the guise that her creativity
was better spent there than in the kitchen cooking

jello must have been the sensation of the '50s
because she always made several large trays of it -
including some with banana slices suspended inside

Growing up she always teased me about living in the country
"Farmingdale", she would say, "What kind of name is that for a town?"
(little did she suspect it was originally called Hardscrabble)
"I'd rather live in Hicksville."

and her scientific facts were always a little off the mark
she insisted that the ocean was bottomless
and that the rockets we launched into into space
were responsible for all of the weather changes
because they poked holes in the atmosphere

we had our best conversations
in the backs of cabs on the way to Chinatown
where my aunt frequently took me
for lunch whenever i visited her

after eating our meal, if we had time,
we would walk among the sidewalk vendors
and I would buy a souvenir with the money she gave me

once I bought a fake snake with a segmented body
that slithered in the air when you held it by its tail
i quickly discovered that my aunt was deathly afraid of snakes
so it rode home in the trunk of the cab - just to be safe

it's hard to say which is my fondest memory of her
but i think it was the week i spent in Brooklyn
helping her strip wall paper from the plaster walls
in the upstairs rooms of the two family house she had just purchased

it was the summer of 1969 - I was 16
the radio was playing John Lennon's Give Peace a Chance
the Viet Nam war hadn't touched me yet

and as i climbed up and down the ladder
for the thousandth time
ready to press the steamer against the wall
ready to scrape the wall paper off in strips
ready to nudge the occasional patch
that needed an extra shot of steam
and a little more encouragement
from the scraper

my aunt said - "let's break for lunch -
how about some Chinese?"
and off we went with bits and pieces
of wall paper stuck to our clothes
looking like paper mache mannequins
that had just exploded

and on the way to the restaurant
i asked her if she really thought
the ocean was bottomless...

she just looked at me and smiled

So Many Joes

by jr paruolo
___________________________________________________________
there were so many Joes
in our family of uncles, aunts, and cousins
in order to keep things straight
we were all given nicknames

there was
Big Joe, my uncle - married to Dolly
Little Joe, my cousin
Baby Joe - (Me)
Ginny's Joe - married to the youngest sister
Pat's Joe - my father

and if someone called out Joe
and neglected to use
the appropriate nickname
they were usually met with a collective chorus of - "Which one?"

and if all of the joes were in a humorous mood
they would make a classic three-stooges entrance
wedging themselves in the doorway
as they tried to pass through all at once

back in those days
all of the joes loved the 3 stooges
all of the joes had great senses of humor
all the joes were good old joes

where have those day's gone?
where are those joes?

One Step Behind

as you
grow
older

glance over
your
shoulder

and you
will see
death

lagging
closely
behind

and
for every
step
you take

it takes
one
step less

knowing
it can
catch up

at
anytime