1000 Things To Do Before You Die: #75 Revisited, #77, #78

I had meant to string these three together.  And then my mind distracted me.  And I hugged Jonsi (that's about as much closure as I'm probably ever going to get).  Anyway... poetry:

#75 Watch a poem.

#77 Read a poem.

#78 Write a poem.

All accomplished again and again and again.

#75. Watch Malcolm London's High School Training Ground.  Again.  Listen.  Feel.  Learn.

#77. Denver Butson's Issues.

the man who climbed the Brooklyn Bridge
who walked the highest cables
and swung hand over hand from one side
to the other who eluded ten cops with harnesses
and ropes a helicopter a boat below
with emergency crews and backboard
who asked for a cigarette and a beer who swung
upside down with his knees hooked
around a cable and took a cigarette
from one cop's hand and smoked it laughing
and then flipped over and slid down fireman-style
one cable and upside down again around another
and skirted between the outstretched hands of two cops
and again and then again

who after two hours of this
with a crowd gathered on the pedestrian walkway
of the Manhattan Bridge and traffic stopped
in both directions on the Brooklyn Bridge
with all of us looking up from the Fulton Ferry landing
where Whitman wrote about us the generations hence
but probably couldn't have imagined
the cell phones and laptops all the exposed skin
and his words themselves cut out of the metal railing
between the defunct ferry landing and East River

who finally gave up gave over
to the embrace of one big-shouldered cop
and hugged him hard for a long time
as we started our applause from down below

was not an acrobat or a bridge worker
or a thrill-seeker
as many of us with our feet on the ground believed
including one gnarled hardhat who said
if he ain't one of ours let's sign him up
but a "simple welder" the paper the next day said
who according to his mother did very well
at gymnastics in high school

whose bloody hands stained the cop's shirt
said when asked why he did what he did
I have issues

while we with issues but perhaps not issues enough
to become suddenly the best show in town
however briefly clapped and clapped
as if we wanted our hands bloodied like his
as the helicopter whisked itself away
and the backboard went back into the ambulance
and the boat slid under the bridge and out of sight

we clapped and clapped and then stopped clapping
and returned to our morning

and our ever so many mornings hence 


#78. i only say hello once (for Anne Bayerle)

i only say hello once
(that way if there's silence
and before i hang up
i can imagine
it must be you
calling from some peak in the himalayas
where you've met the wise man
who has taught you right mindfulness.
but most importantly
when you're standing at the top of the mountain
looking down at everything else
it's difficult for a call to go through)

i only say hello once
because the second time you say hello
is when you're connected to someone you don't want to talk to
a background of noise of people mispronouncing names
before an identification from the caller,
"Hello, I'm Merari."
and he's with the fraternal order of people
who protect, serve, and put out fires
(or one of the three)
and even though you know this is one of those phone scams
the local news is always warning you about
you hesitate
just like you pause when the cashier at the grocery store asks
"Do you want to help children with leukemia?"
and you realize if you reply
i do
it's going to cost you.


#78. last thanksgiving (crumble top apple pie)

last thanksgiving
(the same one when the dog climbed the dish washer
got on the counter top
worked her way to the window sill
and ate our wish bone)
was where you declared we didn't have enough
dough to cover the apple pie
and if you hadn't removed all the sharp objects from the house
i would have offered my own flesh
(after all Buddha sacrificed his own life
to feed a starving tiger and her young)
but you decided you had just enough
to make it crumble