Wednesday, December 27, 2017

My cousin Ray thanks me - Ed Quispe - Poem: Eating my Omelet on the Cold Stone Steps - Remnants





I sent my Cousin Ray a 'YES I CAN' postcard, which he thanked me for in an email.

EATING MY OMELET ON THE COLD STONE STEPS
LIKE A CAVEMAN

What's the point of wearing
a coat or hat, or those
marvelous gloves that
caress my fingers like
a lapdog in the Chekhov
tale

The steps were damn cold
as I lowered myself down
and dug in. Steam from
the omelet and also from my
mouth.

Sun bursting onto my
plate and the frozen
bird bath, the planter
where elephant ears
grew in the warmer
months.

Yes, I joined the
Polar Breakfast Club.
We refuse to be cowed
by the distance from
the sun.

Entering the house
I smelled fresh
coffee. I heated
it up and silently
thanked my friend Rem.



Ed Quispe is battling cancer. Just by chance I looked him up as there's only one man left in Peru - Ed's country of origin - who is the only one left that speaks a particular language. Was gonna forward it to Ed.

Here's the video from the Times about the last of the Taushiro language. Six minutes.

Years ago, Janssen Pharmaceutica, makers of Risperdal, would publish our Compass magazine for free. When I got there - and I always got lost - Ed would give me the royal treatment.

I wanted to share the above with two people, but they're both dead. One was my former BF Simon Baniewicz, the other Eddie Van Noys. Here's my true story about Eddie.

Ray's Road Review is no longer published. Everything has a life span.

But we're alive!

Here's a recent Compass.

Here are some of the many b'day cards I received for my 72nd birthday.

Garbage Night. Took me half an hour to organize and take all the garbage out.

Now I've gotta write a poem about it. It's 4:30 pm. I'm gonna go offline and write. Be back soon. Will miss you when I'm gone. Mwah!

Took an hour, tho, of course I did other things. 

REMNANTS

Rich folks party
on the Riviera,
Aruba and private
islands in the Carib

They are the most
homogenuous people
in the world, writes
Scott Galloway

We party on Cowbell Road
Lasagna, salad with crunchy
croutons, snappy olives
with nary a pit, trail mix
that hikers take with them
up mountains

Every one of our guests has
climbed many a mountain
I scaled the mountain of
manic-depression and
rewarded for no reason at all
by getting rid of it

My niece Kamellia of Ukraine
came over here and landed in
the lap of her husband Tyler,
an Orthodox Jew and teller of
tales from his Reb.

A package from UPS just arrived.
I cut it open over a carton so
the sawdust won't sneeze all
over the room.

CONCLAVE, the name of a book.
Who's it from? I know! I'm on
a buying spree and ordered it
for myself.

Twilight shines over Trash Night.
We're past the solstice now, so
every day is a little longer.
Wave goodbye to the sun for now
and greet it at 7:22 am.


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