born 1900
when Austria was still a monarchy
    that did not know
    it was approaching its end

growing up as the daughter
of the mayor of a little district town
    big fish in a small pond
educated accordingly
as a ‘higher daughter’

   be a home decorator
   do needlework
   be a gourmet cook
   play the piano
   be a respectable member
       of the community and the parish

when she turned 18
after the end of world war I
the social order for which she had been prepared
simply disappeared

her father became a disillusioned monarchist
the town’s republicans elected a new mayor

she married a railway engineer
who left her after her daughter
    my mother
was born
she managed to survive world war II
as a single mother

watched her daughter
    fall in love with, at Christmas 1946,
    and marry in April 1947
a guy who had just escaped
from a Soviet POW camp
looked like a walking skeleton
       my father
AND
was the son of a communist
who  had survived  world war I
as a POW in Siberia

strange bedfellows

     they used to play cards together
     once a week
     with great gusto

     class warfare
     morphed into social entertainment

both my parents were working
grandmother  led the household
on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses
     to bring in some money
practically raised me and my brother
cared for us when we were sick
taught me to play the piano

was always afraid we would not get
enough to eat

for a while, as a little child,
I slept in the same room with her
and  learned that she had
a wondrously melodious snore
    going over an octave & some such

when, after grade school,
I had to leave at 5.45 am
to catch the train
    pulled by a sturdy steam engine
that took me to the high school  
    50km down the road
she was concerned when I
   rushing out the door
just grabbed parts of the breakfast
she had so lovingly prepared

when I left home for university
she was not happy
when I went to the USA for a whole year
she was disconsolate

she did enjoy her great-grandkids
when they visited, though

too much distance for too long
from the place of her birth
made her uncomfortable
in her later years
she needed a familiar place
that came with its familiar things
to do and know

she lived to be 87

I saw her last
after a second stroke
had mostly incapacitated her

a tiny woman
curled up
waiting to leave us
for a world that finally might heal
the pain and disappointment
she had so bravely mastered
throughout her life

An honourable account
Of sympathy 1, 2, 3, 4, deferred
Finally something contained but
Lastly nothing.

I fortify puddles night and day...
That ***** grass grows by
And willow trees that twist and knead
Into crisp faces that
Pose for me.

Oh! Wood Coven!
Questions 345
What unknowing awareness they show, what membership
My cobbed old feet can't follow.

A successful heart with fearful veins
Taken lore-y blood for bishop doubts
From chambers of marbling fat
On a ****** run.

I found online that
People were scared of me
But in person they didn't care
I wonder if they dream so hesitantly
Or if they sleep just to wake up
On a pillow that smells like their wife's arm
Neutered, like feathers clipped short

Perhaps with that I'll choke
On a wishbone of some bird
Or my bones, brown like civilised wheat
Will nourish some fat lip
I'm not sure of that

O, an honourable account.

among the dead, two heroes, Octavian, and Philip Augustus
(from the house of Capet)... to all hopes of a revived Hollywood
encircling them, fermenting as many credible names -
strange people, poisons that smell like perfume - what?
lord anthony is dead - is that how one says it?
simply as that... mark anthony is dead -
the soup is hot, the soup is cold - anthony is living, anthony is dead -
SHAKE WITH TERROR WHEN SUCH WORDS
PASS YOUR LIPS... FOR FEAR THEY BE UNTRUE
AND ANTHONY CUT-OUT YOUR TONGUE FOR A LIE...
AND IF TRUE... FOR YOUR LIFETIME BOAST
THAT YOU WERE ABLE TO SPEAK HIS NAME
IN HIS DEATH... A DYING OF SUCH A MAN
MUST BE SHOUTED... SCREAMED!
IT MUST ECHO BACK FROM THE CORNERS OF
THE UNIVERSE!
ANTHONY IS DEAD! MARK ANTHONY OF ROME
LIVES NO MORE!
i know of only two men be worth a taxing memory,
a taxman's assertion worth of bookkeeping...
that one was Octavian, and the latter remnant of Charlemagne,
namely Philip Augustus, father of the Magna Carta...
beyond the celebrated procession of Westminster Abbey...
there the minded tear...
they binding i admire most... keen puppeteers,
such that i too suffer sufficing to be with the smallest army of
exercise in the demand of owning land bereaved
from ever being lost, as sufficient demand for
posthumous reenactment of the up-kept bibliography.

Stuck to their thoughts, the quiet dealings while the world restlessness exposes itself before their eyes, and they do not flinch, there is a fear at the fibre of New York City, the ananymoty keeps one brave in their singular ways, just a scratch, just a droplet, without considering one another, exchanges at the counter kept short, exchange a few wads for cheap goods that will last a while, that happens to be my style. Astoria queens, where the colors don't mesh together quite right, taxes, payroll, bookkeeping, lots of wine, novelty next to 99 cent, cars crammed at the intersection, baffled in the brook, crammed in the nooksc the books are protected by a sheet to keep out the rain, at the corner there is a man going insane, city living, the expression, nothing's good, but can't complain, dotted taxi cab advertisements, launching a career, launching an attitude, launching a party, we can do business for you, step right in and see keep my business card hardly an issue, hardly the matter, coffees crummy, coffees not so bad what's the matter with you?  Emotionless, dreamless, left to the lights and sleepiness, a work day, a day of pay, churning out a penny at the end, churning out dollars that we can spend a loss of security for a good, or perhaps an investment in a future security, the city wish it could do it all for you, Astoria queens, sewn together freakenstein American Dream

Numbers to crunch
In between is the munch
A break for an hour is lunch
Accounting term of Profit and loss
Expenses highlighting the cost
The total Accounting overview
There’s payment’s that are also due
Accountant having that chore
Accounting is almost like keeping score
The thought in where the business stands
Resources combined in demand
Excel spreadsheet putting the figure in more detail
It’s says if the business will pass or fail
Numbers are the fairytale
It mentions the businesses direction in tail
Accounting or Bookkeeping being the function
Eye on the trial balance
Conclusion in the final palance
So much for the balance