RUMOURS OF WAR

RUMOURS OF WAR

Curled on the floor
under my desk
I’m waiting
for the end of the world.

The bell keeps ringing
and we kids lie silent
with dust bunnies
and scraps of paper.

Philomena always whimpers
when we find ourselves
like this.
She’s learned to
whimper softly or fear being
thrown out on the street.
And we all know the street
is no place to be
at the end of the world.

Curling up with eyes
and ears covered
we hear the sounds
of silence wash across
the classroom: A belly rolls
a sniffle sniffs, and our nun
stands bravely at the door.

If Jesus were here would he be
in the doorway with her talking up
Religion grades or snuggled
under the desks with us?


- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty

Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
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FIXING THE ROOF

Carpenter Street, Belleville, N.J.

Squirrels ate a hole in our roof.
They came and went
in our attic as they pleased.
At night you could hear them
doing the things squirrels do at night.
At first, Dad put a metal plate
over the hole to keep them out.
It didn’t work.
They scampered at will
across the sharp sloped roof
from high branches in the black walnut
and they had all day and night
to chew their way back in.

Now, I had seen Dad repair other people’s roofs
and I figured he’d do ours on a Saturday
wearing a blindfold.
But the reality I didn’t understand
was that the slope was too steep for him
and that now, unnoticed,
he had grown too old for the job,
deciding to leave the ladder
and the shingle bundles
to younger men who reminded him
of himself a long, long time ago,
before I knew him.

- By Anthony Buccino
from SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

THE OLD GUYS HATED ME

My gal said
it was because
of my youth
of my health,
of my long life ahead.
I could tell
they hated me
because of my long hair
and their crew cuts,
my carefree hippie ways
and them buried by bills.

Most of them had seen service
in World War II or Korea
and they cheered at world unrest
that might reach my high draft number.

Those old guys hated me more,
if that was even possible, with all
their angst and venom boiling over,
when I was crowned their boss.

- By Anthony Buccino
From CANNED - Booted, bumped, down-sized, fired, forced out, hated, hired, jobless, laid off, let go, out of work, out-sourced, pink-slipped, terminated, sacked, unemployed
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino

CURSE OF THE BUTTONS

After David Tucker

I’m going to be late.
I can’t help it you see,
but this shirt I planned to wear
isn’t doing anything good for me.
The sleeves are laughing,
the left and right.
I try to feed each hard round button
through invisible slits
but the front buttons
are fighting hidden holes
as fingers with no feeling
try to press a quarter through a dime slot.

I’m going to be late
And I know it.
There’s no short cut set for me
I’m hoping the next time
I return weary from work
when I toss this shirt
into the laundry bin
that I’ve remembered
not to unbutton
and the buttons stay buttoned
through the wash and rinse
or the next time I head out
these numb fingers
again will delay me.
Curse these shirt buttons
I’m going to be late.

- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
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INEFFABLE

Meanwhile poets sit in a room
each seeking the ineffable
in the words in their mind
in the images and notions
surrounding them.
Meanwhile your thoughts run up hill
and her thoughts stop at the crossing
and my words are stalled on the railroad track
So without a word or a casual glance
the pens take to paper, the words flowing through,
ink staining in scribbles as thoughts transform
from nothingness to newness

In a room full of women

The business man, oh, a dentist, working on Saturday
in the office across the street, above the Church Street Café
across this one way street
Here in a room full of women
the air is filled with words
words about words and words
that show nothing hidden
behind everything
Listening. Eager. Alert.
Waiting for the magic word
that ah-ha word that
flushes the scalding water
full force with words that
burn and shear away pretense
that holy grail of words
So, do you hear it now, out from
the shadows of nothing
escaping from someplace inside
to that piece of paper.

- By Anthony Buccino
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
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OUT THE WINDOW

Sitting on this stupid train
in the middle of nowhere
in New Jersey’s steaming swamp
we ask each other
What’s going on?
And everyone’s clueless.

When the speaker crackles
with the conductor’s voice
you’d swear someone started
an engine that’s already running.
Who knows what he said?

If you got a seat, you hunker down
pretend there’s no one else here
to hear you when you snore.

Standing, you gaze at the nape
of someone standing inches from your face.
You see this guy needs a haircut.
or that guy wears cheap cologne.

Look out the grimy window
if you got one with any kind of view.
Ask why is the sky blue?
How high is up?
How much does the earth weigh?
Did they name it Viagra
to rhyme with Niagara?
Why does one snap always break
on a two-snap leather briefcase?
Will this train ever start moving?

When I get to work
I’m going to look for a new job
where I don’t have to take a train
to get stuck in the mucky meadowlands
to look out the window
at those free-flying birds.
I can hear them laughing at me
and I wish I was anywhere else but here.

- By Anthony Buccino
From VOICES ON THE BUS
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

PIGEONS

On this walkway, the pigeons are raggedy,
disheveled, dirty and their feathers ruffled.
They are tough,
though.
They need some loving,
I guess.
With all the lunchers
on their power walks,
or sharing looks at my view,
you might

think it’s hard to be alone.
But it’s usually just me
and my thoughts,
and the water and the birds
for most of the hour.
It would be dangerous
for me to live so close to the sea.
I’d spend
all day and all night
watching waves ripple
and crash on the shore.

Can pigeons swim?
You would think
I should know that
having grown up with homers.
But I’ve only seen them
in bird baths.
It’s not the same.

- By Anthony Buccino
From ONE MORNING IN JERSEY CITY
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
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MY EYES

I gave you my eyes
So that I might
Have a place to
Lay my weary heart

And this is
How you treat me
As a worthless lowlife

When I go postal
You get the first stamp

- By Anthony Buccino
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

- Variant of WHEN I GO POSTAL; first published in Medusa's Kitchen
in CANNED - Booted, bumped, down-sized, fired, forced out, hated, hired, jobless, laid off, let go, out of work, out-sourced, pink-slipped, terminated, sacked, unemployed
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