Persephone Abbott (photo www.vinitasalome.com)

Posts from the “Poetry” Category

Four Poems

Posted on November 7, 2021

Eli   on the floor recovering from yoga I listen to the marbled glass ceiling light the waves playing a soundtrack from a 1980’s cult movie old world Baba Cool – Only a handful of people I know would probably remember that film   and today on The Other Side of the World my friend buried her son. The Time When I Brought Chengdu Peaches to Singapore Between my fingers this poem not so distant from a peach   Peel it hang it below one nostril wok fragrance in other nostril   Have you ever tasted the swollen peaches of Chengdu? so much more flavor than the muzzled fruit of the West   Packed carefully lucky red box ready for Singapore landing friends and…

Leaving the USA Sept 2021

Posted on October 24, 2021

The pedestrian lobbed A thick gob of spit at the taxiWe were on 3rd, up a bit, almost at 34th“Fucking dickhead,” the walker yelledThe taxi driver didn’t flinchTwenty six years drivingA cab around New York City,His career move from Russia,Some guy in a tee-shirt screamingProfanities at him in the middle Of the street just as he was Heading towards JFK About to get some country air….so….AnywayBehind the wheel the Russian perked upSeeing that cute white Nissan sportscarEven accelerated a bit, switching lanesTo follow a little closer maybeAlready forgetting about the traffic ticketHe got on Hudson after I climbed inTardy seat belt maneuver and the copsWatching, nodding at me “Ma’am” As they approached the taxi Pulled over on top of a bunch of white lines,Pretty…

Three Poems

Posted on August 27, 2021

Last week I inheritedMusic from Larry Fishkind.He wasA one of a kindTuba player.Unknown to himHe graciouslyBequeathed to meA short stack of scoresFolksongs, Christmas carolsAmericana CopelandWithout the words. Socks It’s timeFor new onesA binary orbitStar adventureOne foot in tuneWith the other

Bad Bellini

Posted on December 25, 2019

Jules Deelder, the poet, died. It reminds me. I was called up one day, one day back in the day when I lived in Rotterdam. The voice on the phone asked me if I would sing in Amsterdam and represent Rotterdam. As the Rotterdammers say “Amsterdam where is that then?” It nearly rhymes in Dutch too. I was not an obvious representative for Rotterdam. As in I wasn’t born in Rotterdam. Or anywhere near Rotterdam. The voice on the phone told me that I was recommended by the organization of a local opera festival. I felt flattered. It was paid. The voice on the phone wanted to show the people Amsterdam that Rotterdam had real culture by supporting a student of opera to sing…

A Poem

Posted on November 21, 2019

Wet Noodle

We’re playing at wet noodle

My dog and I

Because no one is watching

She threw up

I limped home after physical therapy

We can be nauseous and upset

All we want

Together as overcooked pasta

Her body glued onto mine in this chair

This is a good reality

Much better than pretending we’re fine

Someplace else

Forced to

Accommodate secret blows

Covert bashings

No holding up a false picture of bliss

Around here.