the candle flickers
the ice melting in the glass
nothing seems to help
like things did to stop the past
from playing havoc with sleep
other writing
the heart of Italy: for Carl
there is your sense of empathy
a deep understanding
of the foibles of the human race
reached no doubt
from your reading
your advanced degrees
your close contact with people
your ability to listen
as well as discuss
a wide variety of subjects
it always amazes me
the range of your knowledge
and though at times
your voice takes on the tone
of the classroom
and the professor in you
begins to instruct all
within the sound of your voice
it is never dull
and the warmth in your eyes
speaks volumes of your background
from the soil
of Italy
we were raised
and you embody all the qualities
that country stands for
compassion
intelligence
an aesthetic sensibility
you had strife in your life
an ex-wife who tried
though unsuccessfully
to poison your daughters
against you
and now you stand
a widower
mourning a wife you helped nurture
to academic success
a vast emptiness now
you are still struggling to fill
and you will
for women love you
you emit a musk
that they find intoxicating
it’s not charm like Chuck
but a sweetness
mixed with intellectual prowess
a safe zone to breathe
and you like to be the gardener
helping the women
you become involved with
to blossom, to grow
fulfilling their dreams
with your unconditional support
a Henry Higgins with heart
not a selfish bone
in your body
we had Chuck in common
who introduced us
and though I think the three of us
were only in the same place
at the same time
once
we always speak of one
when we speak to the other
my most cherished memories of you
are the dinners we had in The Village
at Hasaki
the sushi and sashimi
the bottle of saki
green tea ice cream for dessert
wandering the aisles of the Japanese grocery
up the street
afterwards
Rita and Barbara getting lost
among the rice bowls and tea sets
the food items
browsing among the shelves
at St. Marks Book Shop
which is not on St. Marks
but the corner of 9th Street and 3rd Avenue
recommending titles to each other
sharing poetry
bumping into Ren Weschler
tea at a tea house on 2nd Avenue
the conversation
the laughter
the warmth of friendship
the heart of Italy
in the smile
in your eyes
the spiritual aristocrat 1: for Zhihua
this is the hardest one to write
since what we are
keeps changing
these 20 odd years
but you have been a presence
in my life
since that day before class
when you stood in front of the room
arms folded
head cocked to the side
listening to the questions
and then at the board
demonstrating the meaning of Chinese characters
so confident
it was a surprise
for you sat so quietly
listening to the others in the seminar
not bored like me
but intent
and now
many years later
I value that ability of yours
to listen as well as speak
and wish I had listened more
to the advice you gave
for you can be more objective
though sometimes too judgmental
at least in the past
but you are
after all
an aristocrat in spirit
and thus tend to bestow advice
kernels dropping from your mouth
you are so knowledgeable
about so many things
literate and cultured
you embody the classic Chinese concept
of an eclectic mind
of values and principles
how upset you would become
with people who did not know
the history of countries they visited
or who couldn’t appreciate
the beauty of a vase
people who see us
know us
think of us as a couple still
but though looks are deceiving
we are more than that
family
we have become that
and though I continue to go
stubbornly down a path
of my own choosing
you have grown accustomed
to my absence
the hole that is left
a hole I feel too
for you are missed more
than anyone else
the theatre we went to
Off and On Broadway
the shared opera season
the Bolshoi Ballet
concerts at Carnegie Hall
those late night movies
once, twice a week
driving into Manhattan
hunting for a parking space
then catching a 10pm show
tea afterwards at your house
the bottle of wine you always opened
just for me
the slices of fruit
the mooncakes
the food you put aside
for me to take home
like my mother would do
you were constantly feeding me
your cooking is something I miss
almost as much as the conversation
and the food I associate with you
Peking Duck
and Szechuan style scallops
seaweed salad with sashimi
watching you browse in gourmet food markets
who knew there were so many cheeses
in this world
and remembering your curoisity
still makes me smile
we would have to stop
in every gift shop in Bar Harbor
or try pastries in countless cafes
in Vienna
and I still miss the Chinese markets
the frogs in plastic tubs along the wall
the eel slithering in water
the fresh fish laid out on ice
and rows of vegetables
star fruit and lechee nuts
and dim sum in Flushing
chicken feet and shrimp dumplings
how every waiter seemed to know you
we always got special desserts
you cooked spaghetti with tomato sauce
my last night in New York
and when I drove away that night
I felt an era close
more than Johnny crying
or Steve’s farewell embrace
leaving you in Bayside
was like losing a part of my history
even now
on the phone
it’s hard to hang up
and when I do
I sit in silence
mourning the bridge I burnt
the life I left behind
or at least the part of it
that you occupied
going your own way: for Randy
once upon a time
in a foreign land known as LA
Jimmy, Gordon, and I drew a line
and then crossed over it
to put in the physical universe
a place where words mattered
and thus committed ourselves
to the culture wars
both Jimmy and Gordon left
within a year
to do battle elsewhere
you came to take their place
and crossed that line
to join me
standing tall
there was also Bill
and various others in and out
for a day or two a week
but you were there 24/7
my right hand
moral support
over those turbulent waters
and though we connected years earlier
in BG
over our own writing
it was the shared commitment to
the written word
our god literature
that cemented our bond
there was a price
we all paid
in varying degrees
to our own work
our livelihoods
the relationships we had
through those years
leaving scars on our psyches
we are proud to bear
and afterwards
when that spot in LA
like the others in the same battle
George Sand, Papa Bach, Chattertons
Charlotte, John Harris, Cokie
warriors too
finally succumbed to commerce
the low road
which always wins over those
taking the high road
we went our separate ways
still writing
still maintaining integrity
in our work
in our lives
you through your painting
as well as your words
walking your own path
regardless of critics
perhaps fueled a bit
by whatever it takes
to get through the night
the day
and your other passion
that floating disc you love
to throw to catch
but old friend
compadre
you continue on your way
following your vision
into the sunlight
refusing to adjust to fashion
but holding your own line
with courage
in the face
of an indifferent world
an old rock n roller
who just doesn’t know how
to quit
on conversation: a tanka for B
finally to talk
to someone about the things
that matter to me
books poetry written words
life beyond life’s drudgery
the things we do: for Jimmy
when you asked me
to be best man
at your wedding
I didn’t realize
I had to embellish
the wild stories you told your niece
in my speech
but being your friend
I told of how you saved all of us
on the tour bus
from an alligator attack
in the Everglades
and on a fishing trip
battled pirates single-handedly
and thus saved the ship
Jimmy, old friend
the things we do for each other
so okay, the alligators
I can understand
I mean there were dozens of them
sunning themselves
and there could have been a feeding frenzy
the tour bus occupants being lunch
and you gallantly saving the day
bopping them on their snouts
kicking them back into the swamp
but pirates, Jimmy
outside Miami
that was a stretch
I did out of loyalty
for you
I did bring up those parking tickets
hundreds tumbling out of your glove compartment
back in BG
and you snickering
in that car of yours
you insisted I broke the rods
in the roof
while climbing on top of the hood
with alcoholic fueled bravado
a year later though
you got even
by driving over my foot
with your “mean red machine” van
one night
on our way to Lucy’s Burritos
which we could only find
drunk and at two in the morning
did we really drink that much
in those days
with you pulling on the beards of Texans
arguing with cops on Sunset Blvd
over the definition of jaywalking
and who won that race up the hill
in Malibu
Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy
my dear old friend
I miss your wit
your insightful comments
that sparkle in your eyes
just before trouble starts
how sad it is for me
to know we are both settling
ten thousand miles apart
me between Asia and Europe
you on the coast of Mexico
my only hope
one day
is to meet somewhere in between
so you can save us all
from the barbarians
for the first time
once again
on humor: for Little Chuck
there was this woman
who lived in Big Chuck’s building
and had an interest in him
even though he was not interested in her
in that way
but enjoyed her company
and that of her mother, too
anyway
Big Chuck reads a lot
sometimes 2 or 3 books at once
and this woman to impress him
I think
told him how much she loved
The DaVinci Code
which she had read like
a hundred times
when Big Chuck told this
to Little Chuck
at the donut shop
late one night
Little Chuck said
Ah, lover of book
or the time
Big Chuck took Little Chuck
to a party
and Big Chuck was charming
a rather attractive Russian woman
and Little Chuck
upon discovering she was from Russia
asked how the squirrel and the moose were doing
a reference to a cartoon show
totally lost on the lady
and she became totally lost
to Big Chuck
as a result
and finally
when Little Chuck learned
that my house in NY
was next to the train tracks
he became obsessed about my safety
imagining trains flying off the tracks
and crashing into my house
and began sending me notices
of train derailments
and a gift of a blinking RR light
to warn me of any danger
coming my way
though the only real danger
is losing the friendship
to the distance
between us now
these thousands of miles away
facebook pictures
as I post pictures in albums
of trips I’ve taken
this past year
I find they are devoid
of people
or at least a person
who I would imagine
standing there
filling the frame
with her presence
and though there is no name
nor face
to that presence
I miss her
just the same
on believing in happiness: for Chuck
so there’s the weekly conversations
when skype is working
about books music women life work
there’s the plans
the trips to Mission Ranch
where I stayed once
on your recommendation
Izzy’s Steak House
that New Year’s Eve
with Little Chuck
who is actually taller than you
but you’re still Big Chuck
in our eyes
the balloons floating toward heaven
that list of questions
we were instructed by you
to ask all available women
and lo and behold
it did lead to conversation
some of it even interesting
there are the magazines you lay out
the CDs DVDs books
you’re always listening to something
though you tend to watch the same movies
over and over and over
again
you are the kind of friend
whose picture is in the dictionary
under loyalty
and though opinionated
they are opinions worth hearing
you keep coming back to the Jesuits
and I admire that in you
your values
your belief in goodness
and charity
and the power of love
which is God in your eyes
there are the morning masses you go to
the opera
the baseball games at Giant Stadium
basketball at Stanford
you would be called
a Renaissance Man
in a different time
one that would appreciate you better
and though I don’t think
you should tell women which shoes to wear
you do it from love
as you do all things
for you are one of the kindest
most loving persons
I know
you could learn to cook
though
and you may be a bit too obsessive
about haircuts
but an evening at Bics with you
is never dull
your past is checkered
with different careers
you’ve been so many people
done so many things
bookeditorjournalistmusiccritictvproduceragentadvertisingexec
and you play a damned good round of golf
I think
however
you might own a dozen or so
too many polo shirts
but your two tone shoes are mint
you’re part William Powell
part Felix Unger
with a dash of Bing Crosby
thrown in
we’ve only lived in the same city once
a thousand years ago
when you tried to buy my book
for Avon Books
and we played pool to The Police Roxanne
lunch at the Getty Museum
you stayed with me in NY
in Lynbrook
where Charlie bought the beer
an act of kindness
you cannot forget
and in Long Island City
in Bayside too
and I stayed at your place
in Santa Monica
two places actually
in San Francisco
there was The Stones Some Girls on repeat mode
the long play of course
and Sinatra doing Summer Wind
for three hours
while we killed a couple of bottles
of Glenfiddich for you
Jameson for me
what were we thinking
and though I can say
you’ve led an eventful life
why you can’t find
a woman worthy of your heart
is beyond me
Chuck
old friend
you deserve happiness
we all do
of course
but I would forfeit my chance
to see you get yours
for you are a true gentleman
a prince
as they used to say
deserving of that princess
in that castle
in that kingdom
this lifetime
here and now
believing in happiness again
for the last time
and it pains me to hear
you stopped believing in it
these days
Chuck
old friend
these days will pass
and the sun will shine
in San Francisco
for you
again
on being foreign
we are all foreign devils
to someone
as in France, say
they wouldn’t care
if you identify with Sartre
or if I love Paul Eluard
neither one of us would still be French
or in Russia, say
they would be oblivious to your love of Gogol
or my love of Turgenev
no matter how many books of theirs we’ve read
we still wouldn’t be Russian
or in China, say
you might know the Classics
and I can handle a pair of chopsticks
but there’s no way we’re passing for Chinese
you can travel
you can mingle
you can know your p’s and q’s
but it all goes
just so far
for you see
you are what you are
and you ain’t what you ain’t
and somewhere, some time, somehow
you can’t be what they are
just a foreigner
stranded on an alien landscape
making do as best you can
Leonard Durso 