Wednesday, May 27, 2015

HERE

You can see feel her heart from a football field away. That’s farther than you can throw a football. Still, you can feel her heart from here. It’s not a football, it’s a football field away. Just look ahead and see what you can see. Her heart is so big, you can’t throw it at all. Not like a football. Don’t try. Just be happy that you can feel it from here – two football fields away, now three, now four.

Monday, May 25, 2015

HE’S A REAL SUNDAY GENTLEMAN, WITH TEATIME MANNERS...




A REAL BOARDING SCHOOL AFTERNOONER
Walks near the row boats at noon while the others sleep afternoon after afternoon.

SOMEONE WHO EATS HIS DINNER IN A RESTAURANT
The restaurant weeps. The tears are like little swimming pools inside of fire-oceans.

A FELLOW WALKS DOWN THE SHADY SIDE OF THE STREET
He knows what it’s like to be sunburnt, like the sun, and shady, like the moon.

WEARS A HAT OF SOMEONE ELSE’S CHOOSING
Someone else feels happy that way, and he doesn’t mind so much.

A SUNSET LOVER
There are more sunset lovers than there are grains of sand that wish they weren’t grains of sand.

SMOOTH ELBOWS
Supple, lyrical, and only apparent when they don’t disappear, briskly.

A MAN WITH SPECIFIC MANNERISMS
This is difficult to explain on the radio, at dawn, in the rain.

SLEEPS DIAGONALLY
A perfect fleshy X, when he finds love.

A PEPLEXMENT
Takes the form of a statement in a pea pod.

RIDES THE CAROUSEL
But never tells a soul on earth unless they’re dead.

AN EVENING BOTANIST
His flashlight is one of a kind but that doesn’t make him happy.

CLASSICALLY ATHLETIC
Beethoven had strong muscles.

FRATERNALLY MINDED
And yet he wears a light wristwatch.

WEARS A LIGHT WRISTWATCH
And yet he still wears a light wristwatch.

GIVES A CAREFUL HANDSHAKE
It’s almost like a symphony, with flesh.

GIVES TOO MUCH CHANGE FOR A DOLLAR
He despises change.

A FLUENT SWIMMER
He leaps from one pool to the next, like a frog in a story containing both moral and marijuana.

A KEEN-EYED BIRDWATCHER
As he grows older, he understands birds as much as they understand him.

FOND OF HIS MOTHER
Once he thinks of her as an old fashioned egg cream.

ELEGANT
But uncertain if that means he can light things on fire.

BUILT ON AN UNCERTAIN FOUNDATION
Which makes it necessary for the sake of other certainties.

FLUTTERSOME
Like a keen French detective, in fine fettle and with a fob.

A REAL JACKDAW
Though it is often said, it remains undefined by those who fear it could be less than it might be.

AVOWED BACHELOR
If you say it often enough, it becomes one word, and then, at last, bursts into hungry flames.

A GENTLEMAN OF THE PIERS
Does not engage with silvan ditties.

BORN WITH THE CAUL
And plays on the shepherd’s pipe what songs he will.

LIMBER
Enough for limbo in a dream by Picasso or is it Cassius Clay in a swimming pool?

AN AESTHETE
When at such times there when A and E were the only married vowels in the alphabet.

IN THE WAY OF UNCLES
Where aunts are shopping for new uncles under the sun.

HE THROWS A PARTY WITH AN OPEN GUEST LIST
Everyone who comes is open.

SON OF THE MOON
Stays awake because it’s just so exciting to be the son of the moon.

A BOY FROM ETON
One day his beard will fall beneath the barber’s blade.

ALWAYS RINGS TWICE
Ne’er thrice, ne’er thrice. Best to bring a pie.

HAS A SILK BATHROBE
Made of Egyptian Cotton.

NOT QUITE UP-TO-CODE
And wonders how the Navajos would say that, and if they would love him for that.

HE HITCHHIKES INSTEAD OF TAKING THE BUS
Because the bus only goes to familiar places that contain towns and places.

STAYS AHEAD OF THE GAME
Even when others are fast asleep, chasing games.

A SKILLFUL MOUNTAIN CLIMBER
A skillful mountain climber indeed.

SALUTES ANOTHER FLAG
That he mounts in his upside-down chimney.

AN UPSIDE-DOWN CHIMNEY SWEEP
Removes the flag when it begins to rain.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015


I wore overalls once, but I feel that if I wore them again, it would be disingenuous. Farmers wear overalls; I am not a farmer. I never was a farmer. But when I wore overalls once, I thought, just maybe, someday I would be a farmer, but not a farmer per se, but anything, including a farmer. I am old and no longer think that. Although there are many people I know, older than myself, who wake up and think they are farmers. They wear sweatshirts and comfortable trousers and do very little during the day. Sometimes they go to the movies, or sometimes they buy melons at the store. Some of them were farmers, some of them were not. Some of them say: Some day I will be a farmer. Most of them do not.

Monday, May 11, 2015

VERISIMILITUDE AND VERISIMILITUDE REDUX


VERISIMILITUDE

They say that TS Eliot was the last poet to ever wear spats,
but they can’t say that. Tomorrow I am going to wear spats
because well they just can’t say that. 

VERISIMILITUDE REDUX

I looked everywhere for a spats store. 
I even asked my friends.
Like TS Eliot.
The last poet to wear spats.



Friday, May 08, 2015

GARNET


I discovered that I could be paid to live in a ghost town in Montana and I liked it. There would be no running water or electricity but still I would like it. I would live in a little cabin. I would be able to walk outside between the buildings which are quite weathered and old and look at the sky which is tremendously blue and listen for the sound of laughter at night which would be sort of like watching television, or maybe listening to television, perhaps it would be more like the radio. There would be many stars and there would be no animals. There might be lizards. I would like that.
There is a man in Montana who runs this ghost town – even though I am not sure what that means - and I was told that he could answer all my questions and he did: 

Where do I get my food? (There is a store 30 miles away) Where is the nearest movie theatre? (100 miles away) Where do I take a shower? (There is an outdoor shower stall) Where would I wash my clothes? (In the outdoor shower stall) Would I make any friends? (No) What do you think of the town? (Eh) Are the buildings nice (No) and then finally I asked: Is there any other things I should know about this ghost town? (Yes) What? (There are no ghosts.)

Why would he say that, I wondered. There are only two possible reasons: because there are no ghosts, or because there are.

Wednesday, May 06, 2015

THE GHOST AND MR. CHICKEN

In the morning, an electric saw at work sounds so nautical. Like something you would hear in the deep blue sea a thousand miles from shore. At night, there are no electric saws to speak of. But the stars do look like candies you would buy at the movie theatre on a Saturday morning right before you would watch a really great Don Knotts movie.

FRIENDS OF FAYE

FRIENDS OF FAYE HUNTER: There's a really cool (non-concert) project in the works in memory of Faye Hunter (known for her work with Let's Active/Chris Stamey/The Wygals/Amanda Thompson/ Karen Haglof, etc.) and it is in the foundation stage now. If you are not a member already, please join her page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/390127157776174/
and /or contact me (rgarni@gmail.com) to be on the (occasional and non-invasive) mailing list.


A very good thing for friends of Faye and lovers of wicked great music.

Saturday, May 02, 2015

SOTTO VOCE


Sometimes I think of the woman I love and then I say to myself all the things that I can see that she is. For example: “She is a cloud, she is a tree, she is that bunny rabbit there, she is that log cabin, she is that cat asleep on that jeep, she is that John Deere Tractor, she is that Hallmark card, she is that water pistol, she is that loofah, she is that noisy bird, she is that big bar of soap, she is that funny movie, she is that race car with the flame decals, she is that piece of chocolate candy in the fridge that is so expensive yet so delicious.” After I do that, I say to myself all the things she is not, but rather than be specific, I sweep my hand from one horizon to the next and I simply say: “She is none of these terrible things.”

Friday, April 24, 2015

I THINK I WILL THROW CALL OF THE WILD AT HIM


I recently counted my books and discovered I had too many. I cannot read all the books that I own. What can I do with them? I can read a page or two and put them down. I can read a paragraph while I am on hold waiting on the telephone for the plumber to answer. I can read the back of them while the peas are boiling on the stove. I can give them away to my friends. I can tell my friends that they can have more and give them to their friends. I can prop open the front door with some and then take others and throw them out the door. Sometimes there is a crow who makes a terrible cawing sound at night in the tree outside my window, and I can throw a book at him. 




Of course I can have children and give them all to my children. I can have grandchildren. I can have grandparents. I can build a fireplace. I can build a match. I can build a fire. I can try to make all of the books rhyme by title. Or by weight. I can say: it’s a beautiful day today, just like all of my books always say, because 

It is a beautiful day. Today. It is too beautiful to read, today. And so I build rocks outside made of sand. And underneath the sand I bury books on top of the rocks. I bury books near the birds. I say None of Your Business to people who pass by and asks me what I am doing with a shovel and a casket. Or I say Please Come Inside And Help Yourself To Anything You Find - on the floor, in the closet, on the mantel, on the staircase, on the bed, in the bathroom, near the window, anything that I am holding, anything I own, to anyone I know, anyone I don't. This is what I will do. I have never done this before. I can only do this once.



Wednesday, April 15, 2015

BREAKING UP

I remember painting the floor, starting from the outside and working my way to the center. When I realized that I had painted myself into a corner in the center of the room, I reached out with my right hand and tried to paint a star on the ceiling and swing as hard as I could to reach the living room but did not because I had enough paint for one room and not enough paint for one room and a star.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015




Dear Faye,

Unless there is something right in front of me, I think of you. So I do my best to put lots of things in front of me.

Much love,

Ricky


Real Time Web Analytics