The Three Muskateers at the Writers Group - My First Blizzard poem

Actually, the above book was bought for a pittance by Rem at the Upper Moreland Library where I was checking out my usual o'billion books, one a book of poetry by



Sam Hamill

I began the book after napping with Scott. Could not wait to open it up. He writes about his family. Quite inspiring.

Leftover photo. Ordered Chemex unbleached filters online. Chose Gevalia coffee for its flavor and power.

 In Beatriz's cozy living room. She rested all day.

 B's piece was about The Rabbit Test women used to get. Their urine was force-fed to a rabbit to determine if they were pregnant.

B's doctor father had her and the other kids - a total of 9 - helping with the rabbit, their hands getting all bloody. The experiment was performed in the laundry room in the old country of Argentina. The maid got to bring the rabbit home to make into stew for her family.


 

 Rem read us another delightful chapter of his surrealistic novel. Mr Flecks, counselor, makes another appearance. We also meet the two famous Ronalds




    Hey, let's learn a bit about Ronald Mc.

Dyou think he's related to

Rem mentioned he's reading Thomas Pynchon again. The author is 78, not all that old. After reading us Chapter 19 of his novel and having heard the previous chapters, it's easy to understand how Rem finds Pynchon so enjoyable. He laffed aloud while reading it.

He's also revisiting Jack Kerouac - On the Road, Dharma Bums, etc.

Me, I revisited my East Texas family and wrote about em this morning in a short story called Mary Jo, but I've gotta retitle it.

Had no idea what to write about. Then I went to Giant to return my new olive oil from Tunisia. I am trying to turn around the political situation there by helping their economy.

It was impossible to open the olive jar, so I got oil from California, a new industry for them, in case half of the jutting out land falls into the sea due to - what is it? - earthquakes, I believe. JAPAN has been devastated by two earthquakes.

What a world we live in.

My short story was quite pleasant. Rem liked it lots. My sister Lynn is reading it now.

Kremp flowers I got for free with a coupon. Put em in this marble vase B bought in Vermont. It was heavy and beautiful.

The Blizzard travels with Ruthie. Look, if I spell it Traavels, it looks Dutch or Scandanavian. 

MY FIRST HURRICANE

The cold moon shone down
on the little D Q hut on
York Road. I was first
in line but, childless now,
was unacquainted
with the dazzling
array of sparkling
bejeweled cold
treats from which
to choose.

Finally, we narrowed
it down, the winged
angel on the other side
and I.
When she asked do you
like pecan turtles a
rainbow spread across

my heart

Be right back, she said,
and tossed in the
blender soft vanilla
ice cream, pecan
turtles, a shot of
caramel (my request)
then placed it on
the counter.

I gave her a five and bid
her sift the dollar change
into the see-thru tip
jar.

My preference is to munch
and walk at the same
time. Peripatetic me.

Putting the cup on a picnic
table, I pulled up my lilac
blouse and injected 12
into my polka-dotted belly,
hoping someone would see
me and think I was shooting
heroin.

Up Grant Avenue I strode
a street as steep as any
in "I left my heart in
San Francisco," my hand-

painted sneakers
a wild world in themselves
padded upward while
the Moon and her
starry mistresses
looked down
their mood
companionable.

I gazed down the
steep cliff - no "Meru"

mind you -
as the parking lot
filled up with
hedonists out for
a family good time

But I like being alone.
The Blizzard was
beyond compare. Have
you tasted chicken pot pies
with crimped crusts? Or
oranges fresh from the
Florida tree? Or how
about Mom's moist
chocolate brownies?

The Blizzard tickled
every tasty pocket
in my mouth and
my demanding
long loop of a
tongue.

Finished at home, I rinse
out the thick
plastic cup and
pour it over the
newly blooming
lilacs.