it’s not the coffee
that keeps me up
at night
but oh how I wish
it was
other writing
I’m reminded once again why I eat lamb chops
it’s not for my health
all that fat
but I’ll take
a second portion
for the taste
limping along
between joy
and despair
stands hope
limping along
toward tomorrow
Istanbul, early morning: the dogs
the dogs roam down
these dark wet streets
or lie in doorways
to escape the rain
their sorrowful eyes turned upward
as I pass by
in the dark early hours
long before the sun
with eyes gazing downward
feeling their solitude
here in my heart
2am
there’s nothing worse
than 2am
except 3am
then maybe 4
I see no reason not to repost my Thanksgiving poem yet again: for my brothers: Johnny, George, & Robert, and for Rita all on the other side of the world
there are voices calling my name
on the other side of the world
an empty chair
a glass not filled with wine
dark meat with gravy
stuffing with mushrooms
manicotti
and Robert’s famous meatballs and gravy
hot and sweet sausage
broccoli with garlic, lemon and oil
Johnny bought blueberry pie
only I’m not getting a piece
’cause I’m over here
on the other side of the world
quietly finishing a bottle of wine
trying not to think of your voice
the sorrow in the air
fresh flowers don’t quite kill the smell
of disappointment
regret
another year gone by
that empty chair
that bottle of wine unopened
ice cream melting on a plate
Al Martino singing love songs
George serving salad
and you sliding food onto my plate
the cat under the table
my hand reaching across
space
grabbing nothing
grabbing air
on the other side
of the world
peanut butter & jelly
how easy it is
for a peanut butter
& jelly sandwich
to transport one
back to a time
when the world was young
and innocent
if only for that brief moment
of pleasure
while eating
3am in the morning
the distance perhaps
in miles in years
cause these memories
both real and imagined
to co-mingle
restlessly
in the mind
yet the cat
gently calmly anchoring
an arm a heart
in the present
in this ancient city
both now call
home
from a line by Wen T’ing-yün: this endless river
all the past the present
flows oh so swiftly
on this endless river
of the heart
to the future
which will oh so soon
become the present the past
as the heart’s river
flows on
and on
on this oh too brief journey
of our lives
from a line by Rodney Crowell: every turn in my road
every turn
in my road
every spill
on my way
all the lies
in my ear
all the hurt
in my heart
all the dust
from my eyes
brought me here
brought me here
Leonard Durso 