1.        Eugene And the Pumpkin Pie

Wee Eugene's but a lonely boy
(arrayed in cap and corduroy),
has Jungle Jim (a ragged toy)
and fancied Friends his only joy.

Well, Jim appears from time to time
behind a pane of pantomime,
a charmed mirage, or dream sublime
inside a Cuckoo's nursery rhyme.

Still Eugene always finds a way
(while riding on his magic Sleigh)
to meet with Jim somewhere halfway
between the Moon and Yesterday.

When Jim brought Eu to Timbuktu
to kiss the Queen (a Kangaroo)
and tweak her tail (bright shiny blue),
Eu sneezed instead “achoo, achoo”.  

The baby Roo, surprised, awoke
and thought 'twas but a funny joke
beholding Eugene cough and choke...
well, sounding like old Froggy's croak.

Said Jim to Roo "Eu has a cold,
we mustn't laugh, we mustn't scold
instead we'll let the tale unfold
and frolic in the marigold".

With runny eyes and mighty sniffle
Eu could hardly get a whiffle,
climbed a hill to reach the cliffle ,
searched the sea for ship or skiffle.

Behind the breeze, some sloops were seen,
a grand delight that pleased Eugene,
and Jim, and Roo, and yes, the Queen;
they then set sail for Halloween.

Above the sea, below the sky
they saw a skinny Scarecrow fly -
within its beak (one couldn't deny),
surprise, surprise, a Pumpkin Pie!

The Scarecrow wore a veil and shawl
so really couldn't see at all
and swooped too near the sunny ball,
got grilled and let the pastry fall,

which bounced upon the waves below,
then slid beneath the undertow.
"Why did it fall, where did it go?"
cried Eugene with a gasp of woe.

Roo wondered would it reappear
(for where it went was certainly queer),
but where it went became quite clear
to Eu and Jim while standing near

the Queen who, hungry, hopped awhile
observing Crunch the Crocodile
come floating down the river Nil
with belly full and toothy smile.

2.        Eugene and the Wolverine

Within the sandbox played Eugene,
as well, his little friend named Dean,
a simple-minded Wolverine.

But yesterday was Halloween
when they collected sweets unseen,
all stuffed inside a sad Sardine.

And making sure their hands were clean,
they shared a snack - a tangerine,
a cantaloupe and big fat bean.

But they forgot the Sandbox Queen
whose hungry name was sweet Pauline -
with no invite she felt so mean
and woke the naughty Sand Machine.

Sand trickled in their fine cuisine
which scratched their gums and set the scene
to brush their teeth and in between.

Poor Dean was sad he hadn’t seen
the sandy specks with sparkly sheen,
all hidden like a submarine.

Eu sold his cookie magazine
And bought a brand new limousine
To flee the naughty Sand Machine.

Next time their food they’ll try to screen
from something hard and unforeseen
while tapping on a tambourine
to sooth the hungry Sandbox Queen
and trick the naughty Sand Machine.


3.        Eugene and Antoine

Eugene awoke and looked upon
his Mirror in the morning Dawn.
He saw himself and stopped to yawn
then saw instead his friend Antoine.

Well Antoine said ‘come in, come on
I’ll whisk you with this Magic Wand
then we can journey to the Pond
and sail astride the Silver Swan’.

And once inside the Looking Glass
amazing conquests came to pass
before the midday hourglass
released its sands upon the grass.

Well, first they sought and found the Pond
and hypnotized the Silver Swan
to sail them to the edge beyond,
to Charles, the Froggy Vagabond.

Well Charles was said to be ‘a King’
(whose Crown was hanging from a String)
while hopping with a golden Ring
just waiting for a Kiss in Spring.

Now Antoine said he’d kiss ‘the King’,
(or better said, ‘the Froggy Thing’)
but Eu refused to do such thing
unless the Frog removed the Ring.

The Ring transfixed poor Froggy’s Nose
instead of round his tiny Toes
to keep away the Midnight Crows
(as far as anybody knows).

When Froggy’s Nose was finally free
there was a sudden kissing spree
with Ant and Eu (and Swan made three)
to fix old Froggy’s Destiny.

The Rest is rather imprecise.
As to the trio’s Sacrifice,
the facts alone should now suffice -
the Pond and Froggy turned to ice!

And Swan became a Toucan Bird,
the strangest thing I ever heard,
instead of chirp she only purred
and even then she sometimes slurred.

Though Charles the Frog was mighty cold,
upon the Pond he stiffly strolled
behind the The Ring that slowly rolled
in search of one more nose to hold.

Well, Eu watched Antoine set the Pace
when beating Toucan in the Race
to seek and find a warmer Space
in front of Mother’s Fireplace.

So Antoine waved his charmed Baton
and whisked Eu back to Mum’s Salon -
But looking back, Eu’s friend was yon
behind the silvered Amazon.


4.            Eugene and the Milky Way

Eugene stayed in to play today
inside his secret hideaway;
he laughed and ate a Milky Way
with little fear of tooth decay.

But Dean, his friend, was far away
just driving in a Chevrolet
and didn't wish to disobey
so hurried home with no delay.

What took so long, I couldn't say
but Dean came late, in disarray -
he'd lost, alas, the Milky Way
that he had hidden Yesterday.

When asked, Eugene led Dean astray
about the missing Milky Way,
blamed Pauline in her negligee
who'd fed her little Popinjay.

Then Dean said sadly, in dismay,
"It was a gift for your birthday".
Well Eu felt bad, no longer gay
and offered Dean ice cream frappé.

Soon afterwards they romped in hay
beside the forest near the bay;
but when the sky turned somewhat gray
they flew back home to hide away.

At home, with all his toys at play,
Eugene confessed to Dean, to say
"Dear Dean, look here, I can't betray,
I ate the sweet, it made my day."

Said Dean, "I knew it anyway,
I saw the traces straightaway,
your chocolate lips, the giveaway;
but we're best friends, so that's OK."


5.         Eugene and the Gold Doubloon

Eugene took his nap at noon
and dreamt about Loraine the Loon
reclining in the long Lagoon
adorned in birdie pantaloons.

Then Eu suggested to the Loon
“Let’s pay a visit to the Dune
we’ll search and seek and very soon
we’ll find a shiny Gold Doubloon.”

But naughty Sand Machine typhoons
arrived and whisked them to the Moon
and left the playmate pals marooned
where gold of pirate ships was strewn.

Pale moonbeams played a mystic tune,
and touching on a magic rune,
Wee Eu, he found a pink harpoon
and in his hand a Gold Doubloon.

Instead of sitting on cocoons,
Loraine, she hatched the Gold Doubloon
when suddenly popped a blue Balloon
revealing Royce the red Raccoon.

Well Eu, awaking from his swoon,
was sad he’d lost the Gold Doubloon.
Instead he found a Macaroon
and munched and munched all afternoon.


6.        Eugene and the Dragonfly

When Eugene climbed a mountain high
and wandered down a dale nearby,
he came upon Doug Dragonfly
asleep beside a Tiger’s eye.

Soon Eu was thinking “Now’s the time
to take a rest from my long climb
and waken Doug to tell him I’m
about to pick a bunch of thyme”.

But Doug was quite a grumpy guy
when woken from his dream whereby
he’s dancing with a Butterfly
in magic realms that mystify.

So Doug complained “My dream's now gone
of dancing to the carillon
with Butterflies upon the lawn,
which won’t come back until I yawn.”

Then Eugene said “Well I know what!
A mug of tea and hazelnuts
served with a chocolate Buttercup
will surely help to cheer you up!”

Thereafter, picking tufts of thyme,
they heard the distant bluebells chime
and watched the Fairies pantomime
and dance till Eugene’s suppertime.


7.        Eugene and the Eskimo

Not so very long ago,
a bit before the morning’s glow,
Wee Eugene met an Eskimo
while trudging through the windblown snow.

Bedecked in boots and winter fur,
the Eskimo said “I’m Jack Spur.
Or call me Jack if you prefer,
it might be somewhat easier.”

Soon Jack was passing by to say
“Well could you help me find my way
back through the door to Yesterday,
to where I left my silver Sleigh?”

So Eugene said “I’ll come along,
but listen, hear the breakfast gong,
my Mama’s made the porridge strong
and chocolate milk, if I’m not wrong.”

So, filled with porridge to the brim
and feeling vigor, full of vim,
Wee Eu called Jack and said to him
“Well now we’ll travel on a whim.”

While seeking Yesterday and more
they searched an unseen corridor.
Somewhere behind the mirrored door
was Yesterday, the day before!

Without a fear they slid within,
with Jackie playing violin.
And Moon above was seen to grin
’cause Jackie’s tune was kind of thin.

Though searching long to find the Sleigh
they heard instead an echo stray
quite sounding like the Donkey’s bray,
the Donkey’s bray of Yesterday.

The Donkey’d left to find some food -
well, something fresh and not yet chewed
by Fran the Cow that always mooed
(and sometimes burped when she was rude).

The Sleigh was at the Donkey’s back
and nowhere’s near the railway track,
so Jack took Eugene piggyback,
just stopping once to eat a snack.

The Donkey heard the munch of chips
and wondered if his hungry lips
would ever taste some bacon strips
before the midnight Moon Eclipse.

Well Fran and Donkey, unforeseen,
found Jack at lunch with Wee Eugene
and shared a mighty fine cuisine,
provided by the Sandbox Queen.

Well ,Franny chewed her little cud
and Donkey ate a shiny spud,
and Jacky said “Now we must scud
before the coming springtime flood".

So Jack jumped back upon his Sleigh,
the Donkey droned a farewell bray,
(and Franny burped, need I to say?)
while Eu returned from Yesterday,
surprised to hear his Mother say
“Well, now it’s time for you to play!”


8.        Eugene and the Christmas Tree

Eugene awoke on Christmas morn
to find the Christmas Tree'd been shorn
and presents strewn around, forlorn,
midst bows and tinselled paper torn.

So blowing on his little Horn,
Eu called Eunice, the Unicorn.
The duo flew away airborne
(straped to Eu's side his Sword, a Thorn).

Escaping back to Yesterday,
in search of thyme and Santa's Sleigh,
Eu sought to brave the grinchy Fay,
reclaim the joy of Christmas Day .

Then Eunice and the Reindeer Corps
chased fey Fay to a sandy Shore
where Santa banned forevermore
the Fay to mop and scrub the floor.

Then Santa iced the windowpane
(thus waking Eu from dreams again),
left gifts arrayed, and candy cane,
beneath a Tree with candled mane.

by Arcassin Burnham




flowing like the earths motion when i take a puff,
blowing out some the gunga,
could you help me up,
ambient as all things,
when its dark and quiet,
hand structures and wedding rings,
your mind is not alined,

too many ******* in this world,
suppertime,
if you find the time to pick up the pieces,
it will be fine,
hopefully,
let yourself be the host of your own enemy,
of get therapy to comfort you,
havent been right since elementary,
hoping they all turn against you,
and look!!! there it goes!!,
cant remember the first time i ate a mango.

corundum puppies and you begin to wonder if
they’ll ever move again not
much escapes your midas touch

you used to organgrind your teeth and
nails at the dusty mayhem floors
(it’s suppertime baby let’s
**** some airtime by eating the fish right off the
CAUTIONwet
hardwood as they gasp for air so we
gasp for blood)

seashell lakeshore pumpkinpatch painting of
bugjuice spattered on the back windshield;
you’re not afraid of
a little fog.

not enough
sodium in the air (not enough
salt in your wounds) and
you begin to choke on the potassium of our
bananasplit ages ago;
if you’re eating
your own molasses words
please make sure you spit them back
out again where the children can have them

they wouldn’t say no to
something sweet

In the spirit’s solitary hours
It is lovely to walk in the sun
Along the yellow walls of summer.
Quietly whisper the steps in the grass; yet always sleeps
The son of Pan in the grey marble.

At eventide on the terrace we got drunk on brown wine
The red peach glows under the foliage.
Tender sonata, joyous laughter.

Lovely is this silence of the night.
On the dark plains
We gather with shepherds and the white stars.

When autumn rises
The grove is a sight of sober clarity.
Along the red walls we loiter at ease
And the round eyes follow the flight of birds.
In the evening pale water gathers in the dregs of burial urns.

Heaven celebrates, sitting in bare branches.
In hallowed hands the yeoman carries bread and wine
And fruit ripens in the peace of a sunny chamber.

Oh how stern is the face of the beloved who have taken their passage.
Yet the soul is comforted in righteous meditation.

Overwhelming is the desolated garden‘s secrecy,
As the young novice has wreathed his brow with brown leaves,
His breath inhales icy gold.

The hands touch the antiquity of blueish water
Or in a cold night the sisters’ white cheeks.

In quiet and harmony we walk along a suite of hospitable rooms
Into solitude and the rustling of maple trees,
Where, perhaps, the thrush still sings.

Beautiful is man and emerging from the dark
He marvels as he moves his arms and legs,
And his eyes quietly roll in purple cavities.

At suppertime a stranger loses himself in November’s black destitution;
Under brittle branches he follows a wall covered under leprosy.
Once the holy brother went here,
Engrossed in the tender music of his madness.

Oh how lonely settles the evening-wind.
Dying away a man‘s head droops in the dark of the olive tree.

How shattering is the decline of a family.
This is the hour when the seer’s eyes are filled
With gold as he beholds the stars.

The evening’s descend has muffled the belfry‘s knell in silence;
Among black walls in the public place,
A dead soldier calls for a prayer.

Like a pale angel
The son enters his ancestor’s empty house.

The sisters have traveled far to the pale ancients.
At night, returned from their mournful pilgrimage,
He found them asleep under the columns of the hallway.

Oh hair stained with dung and worms
As his silver feet stepped on it
And on those who died in echoing rooms.

Oh you palms under midnight’s burning rain,
When the servants flogged those tender eyes with nettles,
The hollyhock’s early fruit
Beheld your empty grave in wonder.

Fading moons sail quietly
Over the sheets of the feverish lad,
Into the silence of winter.

At the bank of Kidron a great mind is lost in musing,
Under a tree, the tender cedar,
Stretched out under the father’s blue eyebrows,
Where a shepherd drives his flock to pastures at night.

Or there are screams which escape the sleep;
When an iron angel approaches man in the grove,
The holy man’s flesh melts over burning coals.

Purple wine climbs about the mud-cottage,
Sheaves of faded corn sing;
The buzz of bees; the crane’s flight.
In the evening the souls of the resurrected gather on rocky paths.

Lepers behold their image in dark water;
Or they lift the hemp of their dung soiled attire,
And weep to the soothing wind, as it drifts down from the rosy hill.

Slender maidens ***** their way through the narrow lanes of night;
They hope for the gracious shepherd.
Tenderly, songs ring out from the huts on weekend.

Let the song pay homage to the boy,
To his madness to his white eyebrows and to his passage,
To the decaying corpse, who opened his blue eyes.
Oh how sad is this reunion.

The stairs of madness in black apartments –
The matriarch’s shadow emerged under the open door
When Helian’s soul beheld his image in a rosy mirror;
And from his brow bled snow and leprosy.

The walls extinguished the stars
And the white effigies of light.

From the carpet rise skeletons, escaping their graves,
Fallen crosses sit silent on the hill,
The night’s purple wind is sweet with frankincense.

Oh ye broken eyes over black gaping jaws,
When the grandson in the solitude
Of his tender madness muses over a darker ending,
The blue eyelids of the silent god sink upon him.

the sun romances the night sky
seeping its slow blue
into the wheeling starfeild
its own grandeur carousel fades
as the stars dulled by the dawn stray away
one by one they bid farewell to the day

dawn
her blushing bride endeavor
expanded to her full embrace horizon to horizon
leaves fine line lace of mist
on the water
and begins to warm to announce
the forthcoming of her proud man

noon approaches
thundering hoofs of furnace heat his stallion
his brow breaks with the sweat of his labor
pushing the sun up to her pedestal heights
so a breif rain sqaull rocks our ragtag little ship
noon throws lightening and makes such rousing appeal
but the younger sister approaches
and noon must forsake his place

the quiet seductress afternoon
with her hazy summer heat lulling
and her many sweet scents and sounds
lay with you in the grassy field and
makes love to you with dreams of everlasting summer
and remembrances of childhood carefree abandon

she calls out to her mother evening
who comes and with a mothers love cools your brow
suppertime and laughter with loved ones
gathered at the kitchen table
dream time in safe places of the soul

finally night comes
slipping in silent and swift
deep and quiet he is mystery
gathering of soldiers who fail to conquer
gathering of lovers who two by two not
only are the world but make it anew
with love and with children
now full circle we have come
on the spiral track of our days
as the sun romances the night sky

In the morning,
she spins
circles around me
like a small child
gleeful.

At noon,
she's drunk on life,
swooning love.

And by suppertime,
she's strung out,
overdosed on
the sacredness
of another day.

Go outside after breakfast
Come back for lunch at noon.
Come inside at suppertime
And even then, it was too soon.
Never permitted to be late
We ate dinner at six each day
Eat every bite on our plate.
About the menu we had no say.

We had baking soda submarines
Popular Mechanics magazines
And that was technology back then.
Decoder rings and roller skate keys
Shooting marbles on our knees
And playing crooks and G-men.

Those days we had three channels
On all black and white televisions.
Just the same thirteen inch boxes;
Nothing like 3D or Panavision.
Loved Uncle Miltie and Lucille Ball
And considered Korla Pandit a waste,
But we must be forgiven because
Back then, no one had much taste.

We could spell Kula, Fran and Ollie,
Said words like “gosh”, and “by golly”
And were anxious to see flying cars.
Many movies were in Technicolor
But you always had to take your brother
And he didn’t recognize the stars.

After school we played sandlot ball
Saturday were TV cartoon shows;
Dancing trees with belly buttons
And a local clown with a red nose.
We joined Cubs and Boy Scouts
Had lemonade stands by the street,
Matchbooks in bicycle stokes
And used bottle cap taps for our feet.

It seemed like days were longer then
And summer was slow to come again.
Those were the days when we had fun.
We built our forts and hooked up swings
Kids did all crazy kinds of things
Before these modern times had begun.

i wake
    it is 8
    i am seven
the sun floods in through the window
(late!)     2 pop-tarts and some juice and out the door in 9 minutes flat.-
r   u   n   n   i   n   g
recon the neighborhood. "Hey, Scott".  We team up. A few of the"little" kids are out as well.
Check at Ricky's. Some sort of punishment, but a little whining and he is free as well.
More kids come out.
          DIRT CLOD WARS!

                                                               ­                                                                 ­                  seek cover

They go behind a dumpster.  us, in a ditch.
we lob (never throw! ) the chunks of red clay which hit the asphalt with a puff
of puce vapor.
Some kid hits my little brother with a thrown clod,
               with a rock in it.
   He cries.
Honor demands a fight.
taunting , shoving,
I hit the kid in the nose and it bleeds. Crying he runs home.
                                                           ­                                   (and I feel a glory Alexander would envy.)
"FELIX, COME HOME FOR LUNCH"
                                                    (5 minutes to devour a bologna sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk)
then ****** into round two. this time hide-and-seek and she . .
                                                                ­                      (the new girl ; corn-silk hair and eyes that . . ??
so i'm "it"
but even the "little" kids are getting Home
      ( i am way out left      
                                                      ­                                      because i know . . .)

- suddenly - 
 she makes a deerlike dash for home, but i am ready,
and like a javelin
appear between her and Home.
"you're out"
as  my hand grasps her shoulder.

                        e v e r y  m o l e c u l e  o f   m y  f l e s h  
                                                             ­                                    !ignites!
                                                                ­                                                                a­nd  i  feel as a god)

The game is over.  Scott, Ricky and I spend an hour tricking the"little" kids into sitting in piles of dog ****.
Suppertime and we are called home.

years have come and gone,
still i remember those summers.
with Scott and Ricky.
and  the  heady . . .
                 . . .dizzying
                breathless . . .
                 . . . bliss
of
      p
          l
              a
                   y. . .!

Sometimes . . . from time to time
I also remember the girl -
                                                                ­                     *(and I still feel a tingle in my right hand.)

No tinkly tintinnabulation of children’s songs precedes him;
The vaguely Sputnik-esque speaker on the van’s roof
Squawking out Ernest Tubb and Hank Snow,
(The ice cream man is a hillbilly fan)
Tunes so out of time as to be almost beyond time itself,
Not unlike his ancient, off-white conveyance,
A vehicle of no particular make or model,
Bearing license plates issued years if not decades ago
(One thinks that the DMV would have insisted upon their replacement,
But the ice cream man likely retains them through force majeure,
And it would be no surprise if he did not find himself subject
To such notions as licenses and registrations.)

His arrival is not subject to any calendar but his own.
When his truck announces itself for the first time,
It is, by definition, the height of spring;
You notice the leaves have become a fully-formed green canopy,
And you eschew a bathrobe
As you saunter out to find the morning paper.
The next ten, perhaps twelve weeks are a blurry kaleidoscope,
Rife with cones and bomb pops, drumsticks and choco-tacos,
Dispensed with a high-wattage grin and a hearty Mind how you go!
But the ice cream man is always searching the sky
(Sometimes, you would swear he is actually sniffing the air)
Seeking clues like some ancient trying to ascertain the future
In the pebbles and small bugs in a crow’s innards.
At some point, be it late August or mid-October, he is gone,
Leaving you to instinctively grab a windbreaker
If you leave the house after suppertime,
And the shorts and t-shirts are consigned to some large plastic bin
As a matter of course.

Invariably, at some point during his curbside season,
There is the urge to ask him where he goes
Once he determines that his time has ended for another year;
Surely, he cannot live on the quarters and dimes
He tucks into his improbably white apron,
And he must have his obligations to banks and landlords
Not unlike any other man, but somehow the idea
That the ice cream is under the thumb
Of coupon books and past-due notices
Is oddly unnerving, indeed unseemly.
In our minds, he has always been and most likely will always be,
Engine hacking, sputtering, then implausibly purring
As it pulls away from the curb,
Its confectionary conductor
Humming some long-lost Cowboy Copus tune
Which trails off into nothingness as he disappears from view.

Electronic invitations are sent
to this festival of pen, paper, and ink.

No one ever shows up anymore.

I don’t mind.

It gives me more time with this notebook
and a head full of fire.

On Sundays,
the coffee is $.87 and I can have
all that I can swallow.

Today, it came black
in spite of my request
and as I made my
attempt to doctor it
into submission,
it spilled.

The next thing I know,
I have a reem of coffee-soaked
napkins and I’m hoping these
pages can be
salvaged.

After doing the best I can
I hit the john to wash my
hands.

Stepping away from the ******
is a man in a suit and tie.
He shoots me a baleful look
which I gratefully return.

He didn’t stop to wash his hands
in his hurry to get away from me
so I know that his cleanliness and godliness
are about the same distance apart.

Upon my return to my wrecked altar
of ritualized scribbling I notice that there are
heavy beads of cream hanging on to the edge,
same as me.

Instead of wiping them up
I head outside and light a
cigarette.

There is a young couple
contented with their quick,
cellophane wrapped sandwiches,
Doritos and sodas,
a fine picnic supper.

I sit so that the wind is in my face
and the smoke blows over my shoulder
into their suppertime soiree.

Upon my exit
they shoot me a baleful
look.

I earned this one.

And, I gratefully
return
home.



*

-JBClaywell

© P&ZPublications

We have surely lost this war
Yet we linger on
To gather what few wits remain
And fight another dark day

We are gentleman, at least,
Killing each other
Only in the hours
Before suppertime.

When the swollen sunlight
On the distant Standing Oaks
Mimics the blooded field below
We set down our arms.

One weary lad climbs to the top of the hill
(We take turns...)
And blows a Hollow Tattoo
Calling us all away from Death,
For a while at least.

the meals you never met
tasted like love.

i guess,
none were ever good enough.

as clock stretched six,
entrees were placed
adjacent to one empty seat.

ahead, my eyes bore into
a suppertime reminder
of the gifted void
you’ve left us to harbor.

but, who were you truly clocking in for?

because we sure weren’t
punching your time cards.

we saw,
every night,
at dinner time.

A puppy's dream
I go to bed at night. I lay my little head in my bed.
I start to dream the day away.
Bacon in the morning,oh what a smell.
The red ball I chase down the hall under the table it goes.
Then out doors are my greatest thing. The neighbors cat is my target.
Around the house and through the follows I go.
Up the tree, the cat does run.(one of these days she will be mine).
Then it's suppertime for me a stake bone might be nice.
Then to the bathroom I go. Water in the tub is just for me.
A rubber duck I find is great.
Then it's to bed I go.Oh, what a dream.
This is my puppy dream and it is GRRRReat!!!

However much fun was had
Playing catch and tag
Exploring the day away
Suppertime always comes around
Friends say goodbye
As mothers call then yell
Come home and wash up
Right now mister
And the playground falls silent

you must go on -
on the stage,
on the trail,
on the path,
through the scary woods alone at night.

you must go on -
in the storm,
in the calm,
in the dark,
even though you are weary with fright.

you must go on -
at morning,
at mid-day,
at suppertime,
when things don't feel right.

you must go on -
from then,
from now,
from hence,
because it's the only way you will find the light.

chapter four;



April 24th. 1985
4:20am.
I climb out of the cab too tired to get home another way. As I enter the house after doing a double shift at the Pink Poodle; the sound of the hall was this chilling hush. Not quite as-if it’s that silence of when everybody’s asleep… but this feeling which comes back washing over me ‘Did they move without me again? Did they move to another apartment without telling me?’ It wouldn’t be for the first time; I’ve come before to the place which was called home only to find the two of them have had taken my baby and lock, stock, and barrel moved into a new home without warning me first; or, in fact, telling me anything at all… but I thought, no: he wouldn’t do that again, not now, not knowing I’m due for a cancer- surgery on the first Wednesday of June???  I’ve been giving, him , Dad extra money for all the expenses will need so I could take off the eight to twelve weeks from working the doctor said I would need for a good recovery.
I reach the door; the basement door is open but there’s no light on down there??? I had to unlock the door; this is weird it not often this lock’s on?! As the door slowly squeaks open there are lights on; I see furniture!? My Annamarie isn’t running around in the middle of the night with the nightlights on as she normally would be… the lights were on as if it was suppertime? I peek in to see if she was asleep inside with my son; my little boy was there; the prince of the manor on his full-sized bed; I close his door and as I did I turn and look towards the kitchen the only room having just the nightlight on and I could see his, Dad, door is particularly open and the big light is on… he’d never use the big lights???  He’d only have on his lamp next to his bed?! As I got closer I hear Annamarie making this mournful cry; I get to the door and there in the middle of, his room, his now empty room; my sister is on her hands and knees sweeping up Nothing of his remains; not a thing left behind of where he use to be... “Annamarie, where’s Dad?”
A gasping moan, “Daddy’s gone; Daddy’s gone.” Annamarie takes a wet cloth and begins gathering in the smallest of particles??? Repeating over and over “Daddy’s gone?!”
  I walk to our bathroom and open the door; it’s empty, it’s not in here?!  I went back into his room “Anna?!” In a harsh stern tone, “Where is your father? “Daddy’s gone; He’s gone.”
I recall in the hall how the basement door was open and dark;” Crap???”
I went out into the hall; standing top of the stairs. I look into its darkness; my mind reels and it, now, sets to motion of the reasons of why I’m here looking down?! Conjuring up images of could haves…
‘Found in bed?! No; he’d still be here in his room?! She’d never enter there; the room always off limits unless the door is open??? So, no…
He could have been in the bathroom? No, he’d still be sitting there???
Maybe… the two of them fought?! I don’t see anything broken??? Well, won’t know until I go down…
Switching the light on, I look down the steps; storage boxes, plastic wrapped items and all kinds of old furniture jam-packed from floor to ceiling… I get to the bottom where there are pathways throughout narrow paths created-walls built of all her storage?!  She, as a packrat do, packs; I think, one day, someone will be in theses shoes seeking me out; from within a maze like this one and hoping not to find the proverbial cheese… third-way through, it dawns, the thought of down here is a trap??? ‘If they had fought…’ I grab a piece of metal and continue. Looking, fearing now, of what I think and thinking if right I may be a soon to follow. These boxes and stuff are always moving always changing directions I reach the boiler room at the back were plastic containers fresh ones are…  
Sound comes from back along the path?!
“Dad?!  Dad?  … Is that you?”
Silence.
“What’s going on?”, I spoke out sternly!
I hear her… she weeps from somewhere along the path.
“Annamarie!  Where is your father!?”
  A feeling of overwhelming dread! I draw on tone of voice; her mother’s, I bid for a response.
“You tell me, right now where Nelson is?!”  
I move myself nearer towards the stairway “You tell him; I…, want to talk to him!”
     “Ma! He left us?!” She stares at my hand… Theresa,… Daddy’s girlfriend was here… he’s gone???
“Anna lets go upstairs. You can tell me everything upstairs!”  
I have had plenty of down in this pit of the ******; I want out!?
Annamarire starts cleaning and I follow her around; she tells me of how Joanie, his old girlfriend has been back in contact with him; apparently the two of them made their plans to move down to Florida together?! He decided since his plans did not include us our knowing was way-more than unimportant?! Long after the sun’s been up she hands me a kitchen-tall garbage-bag?!  She says tearfully,” Daddy told me to give this to you?!”  
Inside, were all the papers which pertain to the house, bills, records and one big manila envelope??? And behold it’s completely empty; it was the envelope I’ve been filling up for the last eight months; it’s all of money which he was holding for us, in his room that was there to make sure none of us would be having a need for anything after my surgery.?! That envelope would mean we’d have all we need ‘til I was ready to go back to work.  
Not a goodbye, not a sorry but I need this money more than you or even I deserve this money more than you; not a single thing?!
Well, maybe that’s what leaving the empty envelope is about?!
He hadn’t even say goodbye to Little Joey? To him, he says, “See you in the morning, Monkey!”  Not  
Just a here’s a bag full of how much all of you are worth to me?!
And, a simple, “Here give this to your sister!”
It is undoubtedly his idea of a perfect plan???
  Then, as I search further through all the stuff… all the bills show he stopped making any payments on them months ago?! Nothing but a handful of final notices and he’s gone?!
Tears in his daughter eyes and a grandchild both which he showered with affection? He left them without a care?
A “See you in the morning!”
No justification …, No reason of why, ever?!  
   Only one good thing comes about from his leaving; Joe begins coming inside the house. A good thing…? He has known of… but not about my family; how is this going to be? His Norman Rockwell, My Picasso may shatter the glass doorway to our wonderland relationship?  Joe is about to learn more than I would ever wish; much more than I believe in his abilities to handle knowing?!
Joe considers my father absolutely vile for leaving in the way he had without even a Goodbye and his not paying those months of bills though he knew, full well, about my having surgery and all; Joe is unaware of the true depth my condition; no one other than the old man knew and he only did because the medication I’m taken needs to be kept in his room and he help me during those times I was required to stay in an isolation’s protocol.

After surgery I go right back to work; removal on June 5th. And on June 15th I sporting a scarf hiding my discolored neck with these freshly removed sutures still looking raw; into the club I go and if and when some guy there would ask, “Why the scarf? I laugh saying, “The boss got mad at me! Look at what the hell he did!” After I did that?! He was…  
Joe’s mad about my going off and returning to work too soon; he says I’m setting myself up for a nasty scar infected?!  He doesn’t consider …without a drop of a dime on how I couldn’t allow myself to need him in the way of any kind of finances?! He, I think, believes I don’t trust him to be there for me…I do more than he could ever comprehend; but for me, a sense of freedom in doing on my own stops keeps from feeling trapped?! In my heart I belong to him… to be financially bonded to him in any way would make me bought and sold to him and if…, in doing that my being with him would no longer be “…If you want?”
He was correct!? I have a raging infection in the scar and I now have to have so much medication I’m walking around here beyond loopy! He’s angry at me and he’s not talking to me…
Until I call him on September 10th  
When my sister screws up: While still loopy on too much medication … I ask my sister to go up to the school and get me the paperwork to have Joe enroll into school;… instead of bringing  me home all the forms she fills the papers out on her own?! Yeah, if stupid comes with awards I would without a shadow of a doubt own top honors???


September 10th.1985:

Little Joe is having the worst first school year ever; this coming from one actually kicked out of kindergarten?! That’s a different story; and it was the right thing, for them, to do back then. This is in no way right? What they are doing to my child; a boy who was already able to read and to write and he wrote in both print and script?! I’ll grant you my Joey does have impediments when it come with his interactions with others and he is electively mute; but, this is because since from the time he came back home to me after being kidnapped… we were very overly protective with him?!
This year is his first time being in any kind of school setting!? He has had no idea there were so many others his size in the world And, in three days this school changes his class four times??? You’re saying to me the child, my child, doesn’t have any ability to learn and he should be institutionalized?! And I have every reason to believe they’re going to work hard in taking my child away from me?! What the hell do I do???    
I call Joe; I cry to him on the phone. “I don’t know what to do?”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s the little guy, its Joey’s school; their saying his not capable of learning, they’re saying I’m a drug addict and they say I don’t want or care about him? Help me???”
“I’ll meet you up at the house; but, I have work so I can’t stay very long!” Joe was there in no time. We take ride, going around the block and we park in the Carvel’s parking lot; I hand over and show him all these papers… and when I say all these papers; I mean a pile the better part of an inch thick?!
It took Joe a good ten moments just to get a handle on what’s what in these… and he starts blowing a conniption!
“This is your sister; your sister says you’re an addict and she’s raising him on her own because you don’t want him?!” he starts calling her every kind of name!?  We sit there and go through all these papers and talk for another forty-five minutes until he has no other choice but to go; he’s running late for work! I am, now, so much calmer and Joe leaves pitching a fit! The next so many weeks of hell with the school-board and, which seem to be endless, search for a right placement for the little guy… Big Joe’s right there the whole time and I know, believe-you-me, I know if Joe wasn’t here at this time… this would’ve destroyed me and l would be somewhere, babbling in a straight-jacket and they would have taken my Joe as well! And, I know my sister would keep her promise she made on May 17th. 1980 when she first moved in... Every last place we look through is a no.
Joe drives us to see two to four schools in a day…trying to find the right placement; and, he did this with my sister sitting there, near enough for him to take a swing at…, she’s right there in the backseat of car??? Joe has, without a shadow of a doubt, the patience of a saint!  I know, I look back and I’m lucky he hadn’t killed us both…me and my sister!  You know there isn’t a judge or jury who wouldn’t come back with a full acquittal for this man.
  Finally, on this day, we’re all going to this place PS23Q Joe gets off the highway, he turns onto Union Turnpike and now he turns left onto Commonwealth Blvd. in Bellerose; I am so nervous! There are two in this car who are perfectly fine with what’s going on but here there are also two others who should have their names’ changed to Brook for all their babbling?!
Annamarie has no wants whatsoever to see this child being anywhere other than at home; all I want is a best outcome?! I want my son to only have the very best; with Big Joe here helping?!  I know, that’s what will happen!
My two Joes’, they walk ahead and go into the building on their own; they’re hand in hand as nice as you please! Watching them with one another… they are so good with each other; they are … But; Joe doesn’t understand… He couldn’t; he has no idea what Annamarie is all about!? He’s unaware of the way she might react… I fear her actions; I fear if this isn’t handled just right she’ll hurt herself or do something way worse??? He doesn’t realize the circumstances for me; I am completely responsible for everything in regards of her. She’s a child, of a fragile state; a child who could, all of a sudden, become highly volatile!? She could never be left to her own devices??? If it’s at all something could be avoided; I wish to avoid Joe ever becoming fully aware of the threat she could pose; if it could ever be possible?!  As long as I can maintain her stability through this and get home. It will be a real feat?!
I get her inside; it’s a hard looking at things…  Joe and I go down the halls looking at everything “Joe will have everything he needs here to help him; this place is the best place we have seen?!” All one would need do is to look and see big Joe’s face and you know there wouldn’t be better; but to Annamarie’s reactions???  She stands there looking into this lovely enclosure… an indoor play-area; and she looks so angry, it seems as-if she believes we’re trying to place the boy into the center of all nine circles hell or something?!   Joe over at the desk talking to the guide sees me just staring at her… he walks to me; and, he angrily says,” Stop looking at her! This place has everything this kid needs; … you know this is what’s best!” He turns to the staff worker, “Go get those the papers ready for her to sign!” Joe knows, he sees it in me, if he was to give me a smidge more time I would have sided with her and I would’ve said no this place wasn’t right, as I had… times before?!      
We return home; “Twenty-three moments by highway; not bad!” This could have never ended so well without him being here; Annamarie enters the house, seething … if looks could… both of them whenever they not eye to eye.
“You make mountains out of molehills!” Joe has said these words to me on more than one occasion; and how, Joe was for little Joe today… Yeah, I will guess he is right?! That is if the mole is larger than the largest Godzilla, with red-hair.

The earth calls me home
Whistles my name and claps toward the woods
Her tangy voice rings through the elms
Suppertime is swiftly approaching

The world hides me under her tongue
Raining down saliva that burns the eyes
Deeper into her cave I dive
Acid bubbling down my throat

Nature collects my body
Another trophy placed in her burrow
Burying us all further and further
She sings hymns every day above our graves

And though we pretend this song isn't sweet
Humming along
We all fall into the pit

Last night I had
the strangest dreams.
I dreamed I had
three daughters (in reality I have two.)
They were all
babies, and of
Spanish descent.
My daughter's mom is
English, and long gone;
like the Beatles
and the Jam.
I remember two of the
girls names, Amelia and Alhena,
I can't recall the third one.

So there I was with these
beautiful olive skinned babies.
And it was wonderful.
I was full of joy.
The babies cried,
so I cooked for them.
When the Polenta had cooled,
I said, "It's suppertime angels."
They lined up and sat down.
I fed them; each in their turn.
they made soft
cooing sounds.
I turned around
to pour some milk.
And out of the corner of
my eye, I saw dark
shadows on the wall, and
heard the flutter of wings.
I turned back around.
They had turned into
doves, and one by one,
they flew away.

I woke up with an
ache worse than
hunger pains.
It was like the
dreams That I had
when I was a child.
I dreamed that
I had a puppy,
a girlfriend
or some candy,
and then woke up
to none of it.
Nothing but a longing
and a pain in my gut
that never went
away.

I go to bed at night. I lay my little head in my bed.
I start to dream the day away.
Bacon in the morning, oh what a smell.
The red ball I chase down the hall under the table it goes.
Then out doors are my greatest thing. The neighbors cat is my target.
Around the house and through the follows I go.
Up the tree, the cat does run.(one of these days she will be mine).
Then it's suppertime for me a stake bone might be nice.
Then to the bathroom I go. Water in the tub is just for me.
A rubber duck I find is great.
Then it's to bed I go.Oh, what a dream.
This is my puppy dream and it is GRRRReat!!!

Lemme try to be compliant with who I was and who I am.
Let me lock a ice filled dinner into a sacred spot

I only have so many teeth
So many meals in my life
So I think i might try to like
Painful flavor and hard life

Pain pyres, maybe might
be a better idea
Than feeling like a
monster who feeds fear

I think i might make cupcakes.
For my favorite people
Or maybe breakfast suppertime
In my own atheist church steeple

Turns out that pasta, and hamburgers
may not be much a sin
And finding out that folks don't love
It's garbage self love in a bin

Boredom opens the door to walk-ins.
Floats, like spoors in July, little
umbrellas of disaffection.

Tomorrow is the tattered breath
of the day before I met you.
It is the same.  The film is
crinkled on the closet shelf.

I clean around the thought
of giving the lash to tonight.
It is the last resort to
things unable to disseminate.

The hero shrinks of yesterday
are gone for soldiers everyone.
It's the hymn that keeps them awake.

(My mother shrieked through the
night.  In Summer the frogs in
the back shrank.)

You left with the rain.  I have
said this before.  Late afternoons
dredge.  Not yet suppertime
the waiting for night's numbing
power is interminable.

Sit there where I remember you
so I can lapse into stillness

that will bring the words sliding
songs.  

I

linger

Into drugged

dreams.



Caroline Shank

I wake up to a wet, tear stained pillow. Dried salty tears stain my face. I feel it from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. It's trapped inside my body, unable to escape, and I've just opened my eyes.

I turn off my alarm and get out of bed. Not because I want to, but because I have to. Once I open my door the fake smile automatically goes on my face. It's brutal, but I have to seem strong for my family.

I let the dog out, make my childs lunch, and try my best to listen to what she is saying to me. I wish my thoughts would turn off for just a little while, just until she goes to school. I owe her my attention, she didn't ask for a mom like this.

Once alone the fake smile goes away, the tears start to fall again. The thoughts envelope me, but I try, I really do try to be strong. I try to think positive thoughts, I try to think about good memories, but it's pointless... the darkness is too strong.

Nobody knows... unless I tell them, which I don't. Nobody sees it unless I allow them to see it, which I don't. My best friend that I could talk to about anything is gone. So why have others suffer at my expense. I'm not worth that.

Depression is not often talked about, but everyone at one point or another will go through it. Luckily for most, it don't last very long, there is a light at the end of their tunnel. For the remaining few, there is no light.

My day is a mixture of unsettling moments. I'm so tired, but afraid to close my eyes. The darkness is deafening. What I wouldn't give for just a glimpse of light at the end of my tunnel.

It's almost 3:30. Time to wash my face and put on my fake smile, I'm dying inside. My child comes home full of stories to tell me and again I try to turn off the thoughts running constantly through my head so I can hear her.

She goes outside to play, and before the door is closed the darkness comes again. It engulfs me. So many thoughts running through my mind. One I know I can't do, but always constantly there. It may be my only escape.... I just can't, not yet.

It's suppertime, but I don't eat. Food is the last thing on my mind. Next is homework. She don't usually need my help, so I just do all I can to keep the darkness away and keep that fake face on. Sometimes it works, most times it don't... and a trip to the bathroom I must take.

It's now bedtime for her. I tuck her in bed, give her a big hug and a kiss and tell her how much I love her. Her smile and her telling me that she loves me to the moon and back puts a genuine happy smile on my face.... briefly. I leave her room and the darkness takes a hold of me again.

I don't know what's worse, the darkness while I'm awake or the darkness just before I fall asleep. Both are terrifying. I tell my son I love him, he replies "I love you too mom". He sees my suffering at times. It's not fair to him.

Off to bed I go. I take a sleeping pill to hurry the process... it don't usually work. I lie in bed, tears streaming down my face onto my pillow, please fall asleep, please fall asleep.

In my dreams I am happy. I am with the love of my life, my kids, my dad and sisters, nieces and nephews... and sometimes my mom shows up. She's warm and pain free, and she is so happy to see us all.

But before too long I hear my alarm clock go off again. Another day. Tear stained pillow, tear stained cheeks. What do the darkness have in store for me today, or is today the day I am finally free. Only time will tell.

The spring, such a perfect reminisce
of youthful play in sweet fields of bliss,
a myriad of dreams with wanderlust
a child's innocence of purity and trust.

The sun did rise and the bells did ring,
each day something new did bring,
worries and cares, so little so few,
think time, playtime, suppertime too.

The world spun as the spring's sun set,
the lad became as the child he slept,
in the dawn the summer's sun did show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.

The summer, a wondrous reflection
of friends and plans of perfection,
an experiment with life's finer things
a youth's excitement filled with flings.

The sun did rise and the clocks did tick,
living the day engrossed in the frolic,
my songs were sung and stories told true,
of friends, of pain, and of love too.

The world spun as the summer's sun set,
and the man became as the lad he slept,
in the dawn the autumn's sun did show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.

The autumn, in contemplation's awe
of all that will be and all that I saw,
living the dreams, planting the seeds
of what will be of my legacy's deeds.

The sun will rise and the sand will fall
each day for them I will do my all,
they are my dreams, dreamed anew,
A wife, two sons, and a daughter too.

The world will spin as the autumn's sun sets
an old man will be where the man had slept,
in the dawn the winter's sun will show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.

The winter, a time for peaceful reflect,
on a life I hope lived with little regret,
taking the time to enjoy life's attain,
living what's left before the wane.

The sun will rise just before the toll,
celebrate with me before you condole,
I want all to see before it's through,
I lived, I loved, and I played too.

The world will turn as the winter's sun sets,
just a memory will be where I once slept,
in the dawn His Son will show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.


© Joey Jones