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I’m not pugnacious
But pun tenacious
I don’t write like Pruitt
But thrive on fruit
This might seem cuit
Not seeming audacious
Gracious, oh my
Outrageous with sight
Cry the beloved
Love the unloved
Cover the craven
Crave the coven
Organize the crowdfunding
Crowd the organizers
Spaced out on whiskey
Whisked out to space
Wings spread as Aeschylus
Vacuumed by the universe
Gravity inhaling
Songsinging exhaling
Tripping the harpsichord
Enrapped with rhapsichord
Rapturing living but afraid of dying
Hoping life long
Longing to belong.


Theatre Directory
Is Beautiful ,
The Carole King Musical
Comes From Away
While a Frozen
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child
Proceeds Head Over Heels
Wearing Kinky Boots
To harass Mean Girls,
Not My Fair Lady.
Donna Summer precedes
The Band’s Visit
Not eaten by The Lion King
While Phantom of the Opera
Doesn’t shield
The Play That Goes Wrong.
Waitress isn’t Wicked
Hershey Felder as Irving Berlin
Drinks after at
Smokey Joe’s Cafe


McMillan Pier
I peered along McMillan Pier
Provincetown’s launch
To ferry where
To Boston travels tourists dear
Summered done it does appear
Enjoyed the sand, enjoyed the bay
Rode challenging
Ocean waves
Capped cresting and revolving
Canoes there too
Paddle boards galore, colored red, some blue, some orange to adore.
Standing high on top, legs spread balancing wide
All to provide longer and longer
Bouncing higher and highest
Anticipated with joy
Such a celestial ride.
Accelerated by wind
Ride up up and a way
The silvery waves
Sun piercing the crests
Riders resisting cardiac arrests.
When the sun hangs low
Setting its day
The waves calm down
As if to say
It’s time to stop
Go home to digest
A meal to ingest
Perhaps kale and anchovies
Then oysters and clams,
Shrimp and octopus
Resist a sour puss,
Branzino rare is delicacy too
Along with sweet potatoes
And asparagus green
Dipped in white sauce, serene.
It was fun to remember McMillan Pier
It’s orange spotted butterfly
Flying the wind
It’s log supports attaching
White metal rails
Reflect the sun scanning
Across black waters below fanning
Boats and crafts shifting, anchored
Captivatingly scenic
McMillan Pier appears in my mind

License Plates
1GR 325 adds to 11
HRJ 5527 adds to 21
3560 TH adds to 14
JJZ-7078 adds to 22
6YS 844 adds to 16
1GW469 adds to 19
148HA7 adds to 20
60RC09 adds to 15
Why add numbers all
Pure fun or simply folly?
What does all that mean?
Identification counts
On speeding faults
Faults policed
Vehicles towed
Pounded in place
Disappointed face
Hard to erase
Or in court
Facing truth and consequence
Hoping to erase
Avoiding disgrace
Waiting in line and
Suffering trepidation.
From State to State
Colors created
To distinguish those fated
Or identify well travelled
Across the line
Fueled by Mobile or Exxon
Unless electrical connect
Economy selected.

Tonight the moon
Tonight the moon
A crescent is prescient
Alone in the sky
Brightens it
Accompanied by a distant star
Maybe a planet
I don’t dare describe
Because I just don’t know
My astronomical skills
I guess show.
A bird chirps regularly
No it’s really a cricket
Going ik ik ik ik ik ik ik ik
Again again again again again
Calling some friend, mate or companion or lover
Without end.
Is it lonely. I hear no response
Only quiet of the night.
It stopped. Tired? Found a friend?
Found a bite?
No, continues its biz, biz, biz
I hear the refrigerator
inside buzz
Freezing the cubes
Electric their forming
In trays extracted in morning.
The cricket stopped.
Time to sleep
As I return to sleep to morn.
It’s chirp ensues what as nature pursues
The wilds demand sleeplessness
The moon observes
Crescent now
Anticipating fullness
As the month proceeds
To another moon
No the same shaped as the earth
Black clouds turned white
Striped by that moon

Waiting for dinner
Hunger anticipating
The clams and pasta, or bouillabaisse
Served by smiling waitresses
Following their beach day sand drenched wanders
Subtle waves toeing each sand fro
Searching the menus deciding
Yes that, not this, swordfish but rare,
Or flounder good fare, salmon with desire, but I had that prior. Anchovies their fate over kale is just grate.
Will steak tonight rate?
With potatoes and bean, doesn’t sound mean, but I’ll convene that in future serene restaurant provene.
Kilim pie for dessert did not desert our desires
Meal ending complete
Complete with that sweet.

Truro Vineyard
Basking at the Truro vineyard
Rows and rows of grape vines growing
Black-eyed Susans
In great clumps glowing
Grey brown cask
On white structure full showing
The sun upon its barn beyond
Clapboard surface glowing
On the bushes grape clusters grasping strong vines
Growing from centuried roots
Gnarled, curving, cut and manicured, doubled from root
Horizontally spread just to boot
Along trellises horizontal
Hosed in alignment repose even when wet
Hundreds of yards
Row upon row
Row upon row
Some double rooted to root for
Others gnarled low
As they flow downhill and uphill
Shadows cast from the sun
The grapes all grow low
Bush crowns rising high
Not skimming the sky
As the pines pine for air
The oaks so do too
None too few.
The vineyards row on
Row on, they row on
Down hills and up hills
Posts supporting their cables
As long as they cable able.
In some clusters grapes ripen
At different colors together
Racially in love.
The grass is bright green
Mowed flat and serene.
The sun, a ball,
Boasts its shining to all
Petal and leaf, gnarled trunks all
Nurturing life and great color
God’s gift to our order.
The sky is blue too,
But I am far from that feeling,
For life here is great
Everything’s appealing.
The Truro Vineyards abound with delight. Having paced these great rows
My heart feels so bright
It’s right.
Now to return, row after row
It’s time alas, alas to go.

Poem by EPR
Can I really write a poem
Do the words need to roam
Will my mouth actually foam
Will I be silver-tongued like chrome
Only to moan the varieties of a chromosome
Yet alive to the atmosphere
The sun shining its glowing sphere
Rays threading the stratosphere
Where will to me appear
The brightest globe enhancing my career
With love for long life achieving and marriage with M enriched year after year.
Watercolors paint my way, the vibgyor of colors opportunity the way the watery brush swimming its way along the brittled papery path for drying this very day. Such are the vagaries to celebrate this day.

I Went to Duane- Reade
I went to Duane-Reade
Pharmacy prescription in need
Escalators up indeed
Tread to counter
For prescription prescribed
To sleep better at night
Not needed for nap in afternoon light.
So many items to buy
Yet averting my eye
The pharmacist hands me
Forty-five dollars pass buy.
There’s lots of food to be had
Sandwiches, cookies, fresh fruit
Not bad. Goodies and baddies
All things for the hadies.
The store is so clean
A consumer’s dream
Many people abound
Yet silent the sound.
Escalator descends
Aluminum blades engaged connected
Clasping each other
Tethered to cable.
Enhancing them to ascend
Or to descend
The direction you are able.
To proceed trip ending
Pills or morsels
Waiting their time
To be used
Or abused
Or juxtaposed together.
I went to Duane-Reade
When D-R awaits my
At space“Reserved for Fuel Efficient
Prius qualifying
Within white lined space,
One per side.
This followed a trip to Staples
PC adjusted to staple perfection



We eat and garbage dispose
Into white plastic bag for repose
Washed both hands with
Purcell soft white cream
Hands cleansed so clean
I could scream.
After churning garbage in white bag
Into chute of aluminum does go
whisked far below
Probably hitting with blow
Unless cushioned by others below.
Breakfast was eaten
Light scrambled eggs well beaten
Toast toasted well darkened for eaten
Cream cheese thickly spread
Covered with peach jam well had
Fulfills hunger
Desired while bed.
Cappuccino coffee
Thickly creamed
I thought of while dreamed
But reality is better
And much hotter too
Completing the cup much too soon.
Now to relax after breakfast.
Reading the New York Times
Not too fast.
Its book review section compelling
Selecting future books while in dwelling
With time to read availing.
Today we come close
“Mother of the Maid,” adventure chose.
Anxious to see it
Theme familiar repeated
Just fired for opportunity
In attendance.
It’s evening to travel to BAM
Bus B80 as usual not tram.
We’ll get there on time
To see all of it fine
Relaxing thereafter with dinner
Then reading
Then bed
Then sleep
Then dream
Then sunrise
Then life again.


It’s Raining No Sun 
It’s raining
No sun
Ain’t fun
The plants they are joyful
Petals and buds
Extending outwards
Inhaling the water to thrive
To continue alive
Arriving toward fullness
Their leaves bending and whirling
Roots grabbing their soils
Swallowing their life giving tentacles
As deep as they can grow
Past rocks blocking them so
Going around extends
Their travels to and fro.
Rooted firmly, grounded fully
Sun absent,
Cooling rain
Drains sucking water
To sea free.
The clouds cover
Vast Skies lacking blue
True to to their purpose
Obscuring our view
Of the beyond.
The beyond is boundless
Only stars grasp that known
Planets as partners
Enhance that artfulness
Creation sown
Is prone to atone
When rain knowing
No sun
Reigns down.

I Dreamt That We Wired The Wiry West With Cable
I dreamt that we
Wired the wiry west with cable
And were able to talk to the world we knew
Not knowing the world of the future
Where those whom we knew where few
But where natives there lived
Living in peace and in war.
Far from our vision
As far as we were aware.
The land it was wild
Yet opportunity offered
For those who proffered forward
With shovel and axe
With grain to farm and relax
With arms to plant seed
And arms to hunt feed.
Many are the trees, much to trim
To cut down at our whim
To create poles that transmit wire
So that we could aspire
To build our towns and our cities
With spires to alight on the planes and the
Yes, build cities.
Beard leading chin
They shinned up those wood poles
Wood nails, steel nails machined
In steel mills
Pittsburgh’s goal through coal
To toil the soil with poles rising high.
Everything’s up to date in Kansas City
They built a building high as it should go
Only many years later
They built them even higher
Showing where the future heights will go!
From Chicago see New York
Or simply dream it so!
With cable you could talk,
Speak a bit or squawk,
And even make a point thought swell.
The wiry trees fell comfort being wired
Steel telephone poles followed
Metallic to the sun
For those who toiled
To build that dream
It would seem a scream
Would never suffice.
The cable was their able.
As the wired the wiry West
Cherishing as fable
Their table of their dream.

It’s Time To Dispose Of Old Magazines and Books 
It’s time to dispose of old magazines and books.
The coffee table though stable
With legs aluminum spread able
Support all, none fall.
Yet those publications old
Read to the fold
Text forgotten, essence rethought,
Not to be bought again.
Heavy they rest
Piled at best
Legs aluminum
Three quarter inch topped
Resist the onslaught
Of weight best.
Some magazines old go first.
Into the trash with burst.
Others are valued for contents enduring
Assuring rereading and rediscovery pursuing.
Some are a series, dated week or month clearly.
Subject determines possession continued dearly.
Covers contribute to some to be held
Pictorial image valued peerlessly.
Each magazine is light
Despite throwing light on the matter
Yet disposing them fearlessly
Not carelessly but carefully
Is important to propriety.
The new ones come soon.
Just opportune
To consume time even at noon.
Night beings delight
Reading to sleep
Contents fully to keep
Enhancing dreams
Until the morrow
When it’s time to dispose
Of magazines and books read
Or indeed
Distribute them to those in need.
Which is better.

Teddys and a few others

The Gym
Working out in the gym
Can be grim
Flexing the legs
Is the dregs
Down on the mat lying flat
Then sit-ups galore
Up to the floor and
Down for even more.
Many and many
Until funny their not
Exhausted you are
At core right not sore.
The legs they do flay
Until your sore a-baits.
Not quite at play
Which way they convey.
Straight out far out
Tucked in or bent
No gout to fret about.
Then the running machine does churn
As you yearn to complete
Far from defeat
Feet winning the race
Speeding the pace
Sweating the face
Heaving the chest
To make exercise best.
Or is stopping best?

The Moon Is Not Quite Half
The moon is not quite half
Dulled by a cloud
Making it deep yellow
At edge lighter
Less yellow but blacker
It’s depths and it’s shadows quite vividly show
Craters that matter
An matter that creators
Thought relatively deepen
It’s furrowed pattern.
It rays little
Settled in its blackened womb
The sky grey black
Not a star to attract.
What kind of night this
Do thistles waver in a wind
Do birds nestle with their kin
Do planes throttle the clouds
Disturbing their drifting sleep
Of rain grouped and bunched
Hunched over the thirsty earth
Waiting for the drench
That makes hills and mountains lurch.
Calendar reads that moon grows narrower or wider.
It’s just the second of October
So I assume as an observer
It grows bolder and bolder
Fulfilling its roundest
The moon is not quite half.
It’s on its path.

Our Dad? Oh, He Walked the Moon
It was long ago
That Neil A. Armstrong
Arms strong walked the moon
Astronaut traveling at speed
“Our Dad? Oh, He Walked the Moon,”
Reported sons Mark and Rick
In New York Times
October 2. 2018 on Page D3.
“Their mother, Janet Armstrong
Taught synchronized swimming.
Neil died in 2012
Items three thousand they’ll auction
His items belonged.
From Apollo 11 lunar lander
Set down on July 20, 1969.
“They could have donated everything to a museum or university,
But then items might have sat in boxes.
In an auction,
Each item is researched
So that buyers know what they are buying. Photographs of every item will remain online.
That means item’s history is preserved
For anyone to see and for research later on,” Mark said.
“Neil Armstrong’s first space mission Gemini 8, almost ended in disaster. It was the first time American astronauts successfully docked with another spacecraft in orbit. But one of the thrusters aboard Gemini 8 malfunctioned, and the spacecraft spun faster and faster.
With the astronauts on the verge of losing consciousness, he shut off the thrusters and slowed the spin with the backup system,
Only years later did Rock and Mark learn how close their father was to dying that day”

Kings and Other Ings

I dreamt of a complicated drive to Toulouse
I dreamt of a complicated drive to Toulouse
To consummate a real estate deal not to lose.
I drove at dawn arriving at day
The sight a dense one to my visual dismay.
It was filled with rubble
A nightmare bubble
I knew that my work
Would be a lot of trouble.
The owner bargained and I responded with alacrity
Knowing the importance of decisive felicity
In negotiation of capital requiring profitability.
Is my fortune in jeopardy or merely
That would be a mess unless
I thought quickly
Which in my state of mind
Could be optimistic
Then I recovered composure
Assurance resumed
Presumed the possible
To negotiate profitable.
The deal could evolve
Into great opportunity
An housing estate, theatre maybe,
Or Olmsteadian landscape
To urban eternity.
Let’s hope for the latter
Which would matter
For urban revival
Ecstatic survival
Enjoying the time
Devouring the glory
Of flowering territory
Rolling hills, flowing pond
Swirling fronds which respond
To winds blowing swift
And a stream
Seeking refuge toward oceans far beyond.
I did not lose the road to Toulouse.

I Dreamed of A Great Red Billed Platybus Stuff 
I dreamed of a great red-billed platybus stuff that walked on the turf not the surf. It was tall and waddled from a post-modern house where it tottered. Strange, but it mattered.
I don’t what caused such a dream. But to dream it surpassed other dreams.
It was vibrant and joyful
The sky behind both bright and it was blue.
Truly woke from my sleep.
I wondered where I was.
My eyes did roam
Only surprised to see the home.
I want to return to my sleep
Not my soul to keep
But the solution
To imaginative illusions
That supercede delusions
To future dreams
Of bird and herds
Of unknown species
That pierce the atmosphere
And enhance my stratosphere.
Such a flight of fancy
In which Aeschylus
Might delight

I Waited Then Was Examined By Dr. Edward Barnes
I wait to see
Dr. Edward Barnes
Not barnstorming
Into his office
Patiently waiting
Heart beating rapidly
Forwarding trepingly.
In his office photograph son
Football player on the run.
He’ll check my heart
And other parts
The arthritic leg
Cream laden avoiding pain
To aim at solace
If not solitude.
Examination thorough
Proficient in care
Blood pressure arm band
Not The Boys In The Band
Gratitude for his care
I do not dare
Search another
But prepare for
A future checkup or catchup.
Comprehensive records he keeps
Photos of graduated children
On shelf treasured
Steeped in notes he does reap
Carefully stored
Computer reserved.
To reinforce the next visit
My soul he does keep.

I Dreamed That Frances Woke Me
I dreamed that Frances woke me
Claiming eight forty-six.
I knew it wasn’t a trix.
She was right on
Now time for the
Alondranate pill to feel
As I should with it
But need to check up prescription
To remember
What it’s depiction
For health of my heart
Or maybe my mind
Which I don’t mind
A reasonable find.
Shower before breakfast
Then break nightly fast
First with an orange.
Cereal next
Then coffee swirled
And twirled in cream
To drink and suck the succulent stream.
Next scan The Washington Post
Because that’s where we are
Far from Brooklyn
But with Washington family
Marian, Adam, Frances, and
Robbie so skittish.
Now for day in Washington.
A monument occasion.
After Frances happily
Woke me.

Reflection In The Glass At Night And Then After
The reflection in the glass at night
Derived from one lamp
At light
Our houses crosses the land
East full sight
The lamp Shines the ceiling
It’s planks delight
Broad black shadow
Reduces all that one
Might see.
My I-Phoned face l
Reflects when I look out
The eastern panes.
Looking west through the house
Forty-eight feet long
I see easily book shelves
Books edged white
Rainbow colored too.
A cushion shows orange
Aluminum armchairs
Glisten too
From that one lamp
Shining bright
Down to cork floor at night.
I awoke due to thirst
Perrier and orange burst
Satiated that short thirst.
Now to return
Breathing with ease
Machined with a breeze
Dreaming some dream
Seeming to sleep
Resting in comfort
Temperature blanketed
Quilt doesn’t wilt
But covers me with heft.
Darkness pervades.
Sleep invades
Waiting dawn’s break.
Hoping for sun
Seeking Octoberfest’s
And company of guests
Ann, Herb, James and Ben
Martha’s feast for us all
With Herb’s pastries
Who wakes first to pursue
Those goodies we consume
After breakfast
Onward bagels, onward lux,
Fried eggs flowing too
Coffee and cappuccino
Further pursue..
Then more partying
At Octoberfest
Never wanting it to end
Then more oysters and lobster
Not to fend off.
Departing Wellfleet is sad
But returning in Spring to be had.
Its been nice, it’s been nice
Even without Washington in our side.

Clouds Clouding The Sun
The cloud tries to form
Does it want to be a bear?
Shaped by air does it dare
To ride up
As a plane or a flame
Rapidly climbing
With harrowing timing
Challenging to cover
Sun atomizing
Blue sky intersecting
Sharply bifurcating
Air suffocating
Opening for relief
Growing in disbelief
As a plane blazes through
Bullet jet steely true
Tail cutting like a shark’s
Drawing blood
From the sun’s red rays
Blasting the stratosphere
Piercing the atmosphere
Tearing to persevere
It’s relentless journey
Toward extraterrestrial eternity
Only to be dissolved

If I Could Fly High
If I could fly high
There I could try
To search a cloud
And learn its secret foil To the sun
Shading the earth
Reducing there mirth
Challenging it’s girth
Whatever that’s worth,
Spying on flowers
Colors varied and bright
Pedals glowing with light
Shimmering from winds that alight
Wings flapping so swift
To lift ever higher
Fervor exacerbating
Spirit intoxicating
Higher, higher, then higher
Ever the sigher
Breathing the air
Sacred and clear
Blessed and dear
Then should appear


The clouds that float overhead
Sky blue surrounding so deep
Reap rewards of great pleasure
To treasure watching ever
This day’s shifting winds pushing creep.
The needle pines front the clouds behind
Trunk black yet the white abounds
Sun brightening fallen needles on ground
Black shadow on asphalt road going down.
FedEx climbs heavily for delivery beyond
Dropping package on sandy path or to deck yonder on.                                                              
FedEx, mission completed descends slowly another delivery successfully completed.
Recipients happily package open
What’s inside possibilities are spoken
Then un-rapped plastic exposes joyful newly owned clothes                                                     
To wear at a feast
Or at least relax with pet beast,
Levi, mixed French bulldog and Boston Terrier
Resting on porch
Heavy in sleep.
The clouds shift fast,
Distant flows
Basked in sun
Thinning out in flat strands
Some deep and some light
Seeking flight.
Pine cones abound at each branch
Heavy and dark shared with the bark
Yet it is the sound of the wind that transfixes
Pixellating like harpstrings
And whirling fervish like dervish.
Sun toward setting
Breaks through once dense cloud
And suns the oak leaves below
Until it dims then brightens then dims once again.                                                                     
Sun casting shadow
On sand path
To our deck
Leaves clearly defined.
The clouds that float overhead
Close over thy sky yet blue
Night follows.
“The Sun Also Rises.”

Shopping at Shop & Shop
I wait in the Prius
With Ruth, we’re serious
While Martha shops curious
Each morsel to be eaten
Some eggs to be beaten
In the morning earlier gotten
A long night’s journey into sleep
Dinner prepared by Martha
Under daylight still bright
Sunset fighting through the pine thorns
Trunks blackening in opposition
Flowers savoring their last light.
Now the table is set.
Black China and napkins colored same.
Wine glasses tinted bronze water well welled.
Stainless steel knives, forks and also spoons, Serving pieces too, not too soon.
Three places with Ruth guest
Now reading The New Yorker’s best.
Tomatoes and mozarrela
Hours D’ Ouvres to savor
Plus other things assembled in feast and favor.
Request for cocktails behest
Then to relax
Light dinner to follow
With Basel on salad,
Fish, other things too.
Heavy Provincetown lunch.
After, SLEEP!


Steel Parts on A Steel Plate
How many parts
Can be welded to a steel plate
Nine inches by eighteen inches
At least twelve
One squarel
Nine inches by nine inches
Two twisted shaped rusted rods
One straight up
The other at an angle
Perhaps thirty degrees right
Each forty-eight inches to heaven
And fired in fahrenheit
Three round hollow pieces
Five inches, four inches and six inches
Welded at edge
Projecting oe’r the plate
Water and snow flowing thru
With three triangular pieces
Also askew
Six inches, twelve inches, nine inches too
Thirty degree angled
Vertical queue
A weird structured piece
Got welded as well,
Once base to another that attaches quite swell.
They sit on our deck
But what the heck
Floated on stones
Where water floats under.
Is that a woodpecker I hear
Pecking the house upper rear.
I fear not, flew away
Another house it’s prey.
Parts on a steel plate
May they never ever separate.


Devouring Lobster
I savor a lobster
It’s abdomen filled with sauce and meat
It’s antennae defeat eat
The carapace
A shell game all its own
Cephalothorax don’t relax
Chelipod crusher claw
Crushed to eat meat
Chelipod ripper or pincher claw
Steamed no longer raw
Eye black and bulbous
Mandible unhandible
Maxillepeds that include endophite, proto- podite, exposure, gill and epipodite all excite
Periopods those walking legs
Pleopods, summerets,
Eaten in summer yet
Telson, the central tail fin finite fine
Uropods, the outer pairs of tail fins
Heated and steaming and red bright stew
Surely finial delight too.

Sitting Reading The New York Times
It’s time to read the New York Times
Rhymes with good finds
Or eating fine limes.
There’s lots of news to cruise.
It averts funnies and comics too.
Is color too costly to use?
We get the New England Edition in Wellfleet.
Is the edition in New York more complete or replete.                                                                    
Reading of crimes, of rhymes, of sports and ports, of fires and firings,                                  
Of marriages, some divorces?
Under ARTS,
A.O. Scott’s “Critic’s Notebook”
Explains how “The Past Is Present Here,” on September 4, 2018, Page C1 of the Telluride Film Festival                                                                         
Where the backward-looking tendencies of cinema were on display.”                                  
“Every Day is Extra,” a new book by John Kerry, addresses "A Life in Full With Regrets and Idealism."                                                           
What about “Two Portraits of Kavanaugh Before Senate,” by Sheryl Gay Stolberg, featured page one                                      
That should be fun!
But not “Libyan Fighters Wield
Facebook Like A Weapon,”
But better than bullets.
Fire consumed the National Museum of Brazil,
Lacking fire suppression system,
Stupidity and despair of management there.
Glad new leader Carranza “Looks hard at racial
divide in New York’s Schools,”                               
Where race can debase teachers’ intent to erase illiteracy at fast pace.                           
Green cabs should have thrived in remote areas
Until Uber complicated things.
Editorial: In California, Facts and Science Matter                                                             
Would it in all other states
Flatter those who
Disregard climate change patter.
Letters to the Editor
Focused on thought
Tell what is and often what’s naught.
Written from Beaumont, New Canaan, Arlington and Wilmington                      
The nation addresses opinions unsimpleton.
Michelle Goldberg mourn’s America’s McCain
For Democrats and Republicans
Who cheer his strong reign.
It’s comfortable sitting here on our deck. What the heck!                                                 
Reading The New York Times
Afternoon in sun.
It informs, it refutes, it reports, it disputes.
Most of all
It provides
“All the News That’s Fit to Print”
Typeface with lead,
Text not leaden.
I enjoy absorbing
The New York Times
Comics absent,
No longer distracting.

A Turkey Crosses Our Yard
A turkey crosses our yard
Beak forward tail trailing
Crushing wet oak leaves fallen
No little ones followed
Was the nest left
Merely empty or barren
Or newly born of eggs
Eager to egg on life’s
Hatching soon?
In rain under cloud
Dripping not loud
Looking quite proud
Despite tail feathers not spread
She carefully tread
Colors muted but many.
Red, blue, purple and grey
Unreflected, no sun
That for another run.
The rain’s falling stopped.
Bustling breeze hopping through
The oaks swaying
The maples syruping not yet
Spouts protruding in expectation
For their seasonal expiation.
What was the turkey’s destination.
Food expectation or mate speculation?
What journey undertaken, rewards or opportunity forsaken?
A turkey has many feathers
Bedecked gloriously
It treads our carpeted oak leaves and maple leaves.
Then leaves.


Wire Cutter
I need to acquire
A strong wire cutter
Not to cut any faster
But to cut a bit better.
Metal drained of rain
Though wetter reigns yet
Drying fast in the sun.
It needs to be long and it needs to be sharp
But let’s not harp as we carve
The square corners
Of galvanized steel welded wire
As formers
Of new forms
Shapers toward new art.
Stapled to tree trunk
The base six inches strong
Clings deeply stitched
Its fun to cut wire
Creating art to aspire
Each square ammunition
For attachment permission
Little wires attached here,
Then then then and then there
Some to repair
Rain driven wind
Wind through and through
And that is right too.
It’s fun cutting wire
The wire cutter minding it’s sharp blades finds.


Rosh Hashonah Is Here Again
Prayer Book
Mishkan Hanefesh
Mahzor dor Thea days of Awe
BM675.G5Z667 2015
ISBN 978-0-88123-209-0
 Rosh Hashonah is here again
Pleasure two days appear again
Prayer and benching
Torah and parading
Forwarding the message
A New Year is here again.
5779 it is.
A long time ago that was
Many years to these days two
Feeling is great to be a Jew.
You may rejoice that way as well
All share such time it’s time to qvell.
Ceremony removing the Torah elevates
Removing its cover patience waits
Reading its text levitates
Prayers to accompany it make good our fates
Prayers at end satiate.
Marching to return it to Ark
Home there to rest ingratiate
Resting it in place rest us at place
Closing its curtain slowly at pace
Ends the ceremony with natural grace.
A sermon there follows
Thoughtful rarely hollow
Profound intelligence sourced
Rabbinic female or male resourced
Of course.
There is always a message profound
Pronounced elocution loud sound
So all there can hear
To bear the message so clear
Taking to heart the words constructed dear.
The service continues to Yizkor
Memorializing loved ones
Lost this year or past yore.
Aleynu at end all rise with one bend
Then rejoice in song at the end.
Kiddish is fine shortly after.
With candles, and challah
Torn but not cut
And lunch to the full
Chatting while munching
Until happily done.
Rosh Hashanah begins the New Year.
May all prosper and rapture
Good care to those less well fare
May all be fine
In Five Seven Seven Nine. 

Restaurant CECCONI’S
Restaurant CECCONI’S
Serves eggplant parmigiana
Right next to The Manhattan Bridge
On floating River Hudson
Tables outside serve six
Woven black and white armchairs
Arms fix
Avacado asparagus quite a dip
Ouerse De Ovres full plated
Emptied but no satiated.
It’s beginning to rain
I’ve lived my chair
It’s a pain
The wine bottle just drained.
Russell strawed his long drink
Cubes ice left to sink
But looking for toys his
While other drinks fizz
The kid he’s a whiz
Completing dessert
Well deserved.
The night lights on Bridge
Bridge the ridge
From shore to shore
Car lights bright
Two by two
Add Movement true and true.
Umbrellas over the tables
Defer rain which reigns light
They are able.
Russell are sufficient cake
It’s time for grandpa
Rest of cake take.
Martha, Sabine,
Erik, Juan-Manuel
Missing Amy at meeting
Making peace.

Mean Girls
We’re going to see Mean Girls
At August Wilson Theatre
Carnegie Mellon production
School needs no introduction
I attended it years many ago.
The College of Fine Arts
Deaned well by Norman Rice
Who did entice
It was quite swell.
He provided advice
For a Professor quite nice
Tall in stature and grey
To students array
Seeking performance with pay
Of course, applause every day
By audiences enthused
Often amused
Sometimes confused
Performance complex
In small theatre
Emoting text.
Performers on stage
Take on lives that survive
To continue performance
And thrive.
“All the world’s a stage
And all the actors unit merely players
They have their entrances and their exits
And one person in his day plays many players...”
So wrote William Shakespeare
Whose Globe Theatre
Enhanced the globe.
We mean to see Mean Girls
And we return after
We mean to sleep
And girl up in dreams.

Sitting and Relaxing and Reading The New York Times
September 25, 2018
On Brett Kavanaugh

I’m sitting and relaxing and reading The New York Times which is timely.
Twenty-five September 2018.
But I remember those read before
News to abhor or adore
To be thrilled by or chilled by
All the news that fits in print
What a stint!
The news there is plenty
Of comics it is empty
Which I miss cause I liked them
Lil’ Abner, The Katzenjammer Kids,
Prince Valiant and valiant others
Which were my druthers.
Editorials are tough, meaningful, some rough.
Paul Krugman’s right on
Drew Fagan dumps Trump
Michelle Goldberg despairs
At Brett Kavanaugh’s Yale
Drunken debauchery
Assertive lechery
Male entitlement
Female unsettlement
Sexual belittlement.
“The Yale Daily News”
Spoke of his fraternity’s
Rapacious news
Sexual abuse
Delta Kappa Epsilon’s
Salacious, not obtuse.
“Notorious for disrespecting women,”
Later banned from campus for good
Doing bad.
“His story shows in lurid microcosm,
How a certain class of men guard and perpetuate their privileges.
Women who struggle ceaselessly to be smart enough, attractive enough, ambitious enough and likable enough have been playing a rigged game. We’ll know things have changed when palling around with sexual abusers carries more stigma than being abused does.”

Bosch the dishwasher does wash
Bosch, the dishwasher, does wash
Soap liquid in tray does splosh
Dishes and plates
Small plastic crates
Glasses inverted
Anticipating return
To cupboard doors folding up.
Silverware vertical
Serrated fruit knives facing down.
Stainless steel articles
Washed of their particles
Food draining down
Sucked through the drain
Racing to septic
Filtered at last
Within soil receptive.
Even itself BOSCH
Wosches with ease,
Each side, plastic holders
Do not crease.
The red light on does last
Until wash it is past.
The whirl of wash
Disposed of its hash
Reposes at last.
Now it is time
To return all to their cupboards
Places for each
So easy to see
The cupboards flip open
Three in a row
The first has one shelf
The middle exhaust fan
That extends through a shelf
Just above the gas stove
Four burners for burning.
Two swinging doors to the right
Open not tight
For the pots and the pans
With strainers fit right.
All are so clean
Dry for the night
Seeking to be useful
As all of us might.
BOSCH the dishwasher
Completed its task
Now to sleep
Quiet at last.

Allan cuts hair
Allan cuts hair
Whether dark or fair
With shears he cuts
No tears result.
He cuts with care
Accuracy to bear
Some short
Some long some curly
Those bald less to report
Or sort from the fallings
To the floor, floor calling.
The hair sprayed wet
Get better combed
Roamed by the comb
In our home yet.
Baci, Pekingese,
Drinks water with ease
Pug-nosed if you please
Cream colored four footed
He averts if you sieve
But is quite calm
Until barking
Attracting attention
To hold and to hug.
Haircut is done.
That was quite fun.
Allan sweeps hairs
Which is fair to complete.
Broom now closeted
Hair all deposited
Now to have dinner
Performance a winner.

Figs Are Clothes
Figs are clothes
But you can’t eat them
They look good on you
Advertised on the MTA
You do need to pay
For such array.
Chose some that suit your pallor
All colors available
All saleable
Dollars malleable
Just hand to cashier
Register ringable.
Wear walking out
Or bear in bag quite stout.
Wash with Shout
Figger it out
Clothes are Figs
Shipped in rigs
To department store digs.


It’s a cloudy day in Brooklyn
It’s a cloudy day in Brooklyn.
The blue sky is totally obscured
The buildings
Grey grey, grey red, grey green roof red
Grey aluminum clad
Grey orange now bland
There is no blue in the sky
Yet the rain not yet falls
It appalls.
We’ll don our raincoats
To proceed to Theatre August Wilson
At fifty-third Street Manhattan
To view
Mean Girls
CMU Event maybe with swirls
Performance enhanced
By instructors advanced
But performance sold out alas.

A Succah In Washington Square
A Succah in Washington Square
Next to the great arch that enters
The lulav and esrog held steady
Then shaking for onlookers ready
Some dancing while swaying
Perhaps even praying
The leaves over Succah
Praying with the wind.
Stands a black suited orthodox
Receiving the entering
Then clapping with joys
As boys in the band.
“Let us a standard to which the wise and the honest repair. The event is in the hand of God.”
The door is closed. Prayer inside ensues.

Breathing Night’s Vacuousness
Night’s vacuousness
It’s vastness
Beyond my moon and stars
Spaced out yet fully conscious
Starry eyed and bleary faced
Outpaced by astronauts
Not as a stranger to comets raced
Faced with long forgotten stars erased
But fully graced by birds nested at night, not alight.
How black the night
Yet cars far below throw light
Far forward lighting the toad
Red taillights behind
Remind us to care
Or dare to find disaster threatened
Should speeding result
In pleading to police politely.
The noise of traffic outside
Competes with conditioned air within.I
Only to return to sleep
A long one hopeful
Til daybreak breaks
For breakfast hope.
When serrated knife severs
The rinds of orange
Night gone
On to day’s adventures. 


All I Do Is Sleep
Maybe all I do is sleep
It’s enough to make me weep
Hoping to keep my soul alive
Solely to enjoy the day, even jive.
So awake your soul!
Take a trip to Veteran’s Cane
To repair some chairs and assemble cheers.
Completing our seating
Pleading for full company
To use them with pleasureo
Consuming their measure
Of meal at their leisure.
so waking up is better.
Living is livelier.
You can see the sun when awake
Visit the sons eating cake
Daughter securing products
For magazines their advertising
Advising good goods
Many beautiful too.
Good for you, family and life.
If all you do is sleep
Do your dreams enhance?
Perchance creating worlds
In which to whirl
Not as a dervish
But with furvish delight.
Of worlds beyond
Of happy things to respond
Of flowers that flower
In all seasons
To devour
Heaven’s rains
Exhibiting their power.
If all I do is sleep
It is better
Than to awake never again.

Waiting Room
Waiting room
Doctor anticipation
Reception desk wide
Wood counter stained brown dark
Magazine rack bolted left
Five shelves high
Variety to read
Carpet panels purple, red and grey
Offset by walls greyTo allay patients
From anxiety.
A black rectangular carpet
Reception desk placedSaves all that is under
From pedestrian rest.
Ceiling lights recessed n coned lamps
Aluminum, fluorescent
Ceiling tiles supported
By white strands omnipresent.
Softening the space.
Air conditioning propels
Air far to exhaust
Not effervescent.
Six Chairs fabric clad black
Arms leather black too
As is plastic coat rack
Supported by plastic black
Four double hooks
Balled ended.
Five doctors are named
Instead silver plaque
Waiting more.
A red fire alarm box
Leads to red alarm box above
Wired adroitly
Electrician’s skill piped at will.
A for to depart
Three hinges quite smart
Aids it to swing
Aluminum handle levered down.

All Night Through A Suctioned Orifice

Trying to stay healthy
But breathing all night
Through a tubular orifice
Suctioned distilled water
Filling the throat
Rolling through mouth
As a boat through a moat
Makes sleeping all night
A continuing fright
The huffing and puffing
Relentless on pillow
Makes a fellow mellow
Or feeling like jello.
A medical invention
Heaving chest seems not best
Arresting one’s rest
At the crest of the night.
Some claim this is healthy
This stealthy intervention.
What kind of prevention
Does afford such detention
Imprisoned in mind
Pulsating to seek
Comfort in sleep
While reeking one’s soul to keep.
Will I wake fulfilled by this night
Or filled breath by breath
Heaving in and then out
Through mouthpiece do pout
Plastic rim round lips
Triangular pointed
From nose to wider mouth.
Does this device
Clear the mind
Actually improve
Power to find
Clarity of thought Devine.
I’ll reflect in the morning
Prescribed for healthy mind.
Satisfied at breakfast
By serrating an orange
Peeling its cover
To discover
The fruit to recover.
After breathing all night
Through a tubular orifice
It’s a good way to surface.

It Better Not Rain At Oysterfest
It better not rain at Oysterfest
In Wellfleet
Our guests would test the rain
And resist the pain
Wetness retains untented.
Tentativeness to attend
Despite oyster’s attractiveness,
Oyster’s  succulence
Our truculence.
But we must tent.
Large and white
Some black others blue
Casting a hue on you.
A draining experience
Lest you scuttle a puddle.
Friends join you
Jane and Ben
Ann and Herb, Sally too
Friends for life
And shucking oyster’s too.
There are other goodies
Anticipating  foodies.
A jazz band’s there
To make the sounds
That make you dance,
Prance, not frown.
Night before
I hear draining rain
But it better stop
For the Oyster hop
To be better
Please sun shine
At this time of year! 
Elliot Paul Rothman
October  2018
5:37 AM
Urging contestants
To a shuck constantly
Rapidly, furiously,
Muscle edging
Then opening to be devoured
Under tent raindrops
Pound their weight
No noise abates.
Please clouds defer
Let the sun infer
It’s mighty light
And warmer might.
Then the birds can thrive
On bugs quit live
Or simply crumbs
From from cakes and buns.