"There's no point in building sandcastles"
The old man said
As he gestured to the shore
"You see, they're too fragile
And aren't very durable
Unlike me they cant handle the years
Or even days
Against the crashing of the waves
The beating of the rain
Or the sting of the wind"
The wizened fellow was trembling
His hands shaking as if under some immense weight
"You wonder why I shake do you?"
He said, following my eyes
"I shake from experience
And rightly so
Because I learned a truth long ago;
I'm an earthquake
That no sandcastle can withstand"

Gentle giant.
I sit in the oasis of your shade.
I peel your bark, and
it is like skin.
Transparent.
I rub your skin between my fingertips and feel calm;
I feel your energy.  
You are a healing tree.
When I sit in your shade,
I feel peace and contentment.
However, your song is one of despair,
and so sometimes,
when I sit beneath your limbs,
I lament.
I hurt and I feel
for all things that have passed.

My bones are rusted,
leaky pipes
in that back alley
on Howard street
where my windows eye
twenty-somethings
shootin' the breeze
over whatever issue glides
through their mind at the time,
cutting their own kite strings
with scissor-sharp fingernails
they unwind,
conjoining over joints,
the fun times.

Where'd my friends go?

I feel heavy-headed,
elbows sore from resting
my cinder block chin
on them for hours,
watching these hooligans
in tye-dye rags
flutter down
the gutters of King street
like circus clowns.
And cirrus clouds
wander through
and over Boone
while I hunker,
disregarding the news,
the **** protesters
arrested by the blues
and I can't help
but hum along
with a gold finch
perched on a rhododendron
growing by my side
wall where some
graffiti artist
sprays the word
“Exist.”

Dirt, Dirt, Dirt
The brook flows bound to wastes

Cut, Cut, Cut
The fallen trees they shed

****, ****, ****
The animals roasted in fire.

Smoke, Smoke, Smoke
The grey turned air sneeze

Blast, Blast, Blast
The wrecks of once mighty peaks

Dry, Dry, Dry
The last drop water vapourise

War, War, War
Men pierce hearts and blood

Throw, Throw, Throw
food ever to be scarce

Explode, Explode, Explode
The radium bursting the cells

Invent, Invent ,Invent
all that earth never wanted

Destroy, Demolish ,Doom
until the last life turns solid

Bleed, Bleed, Bleed
Earth you are never more alive.

For mankind was never
to be a savior
Never to be an angel
But to be the mark of doom.

Faces only remind you of
How lonely you are,
You say you've swam too far
Into the sea of your regrets
That I am your lifeboat
But didn't you hear
I sank long, long ago?

You've been searching
For a new home,
One that doesn't creak
Or shudder at night.
But homes are not people
And your voice cracks
As you point out
There's a welcome mat
By the front door
But I never answer
When you knock.

It's been a while since
I started attracting
Strangers with flashlights
To search me like
A haunted place.
I finally realized they
Were the ones that
Needed scaring away.

It's so odd to think,
You once told me
You saw beauty
In clifftops,
And I thought you
Were talking about
The view.

He sits across the table in a quiet mood
Holding the paper with both hands,
Concentrated on the daily news.
"Anything good?"   I ask.
His lips and eyes smile looking at me.
"There's the sad news,
And then there's the depressing news,"
He says, smiling again.
This time his eyelids, two tired butterflies,
Cover his eyes---I cannot see their smile.

                               * * *
09/19/2008(c)Vilma Vitanza
Berkeley, CA

Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
just this old guitar and a bottle of *****.
Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,
but the meanest thing that he ever did was
before he left he went and named me Sue.

Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,
and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,
it seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue.

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean.
My fist got hard and my wits got keen.
Roamed from town to town to hide my shame,
but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars,
I'd search the ***** tonks and bars and ****
that man that gave me that awful name.

But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had
just hit town and my throat was dry.
I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon in a street of mud
and at a table dealing stud sat the *****,
mangy dog that named me Sue.

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
from a worn-out picture that my mother had
and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old
and I looked at him and my blood ran cold,
and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do?
Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him.

Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down
but to my surprise he came up with a knife
and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair
right across his teeth. And we crashed through
the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging
in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when.
He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin',
he went for his gun and I pulled mine first.
He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile.

And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if
a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.
So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'.
I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's
that name that helped to make you strong."

Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one
helluva fight, and I know you hate me and you've
got the right to **** me now and I wouldn't blame you
if you do. But you ought to thank me
before I die for the gravel in your guts and the spit
in your eye because I'm the nut that named you Sue."
Yeah, what could I do? What could I do?

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun,
called him pa and he called me a son,
and I came away with a different point of view
and I think about him now and then.
Every time I tried, every time I win and if I
ever have a son I think I am gonna name him
Bill or George - anything but Sue.