ON TO EDGAR CAYCE

It was you caring and sharing a flake
of your life with me
sharing your work as well as your fun
sharing your joy as much as your confusion
It was your comforting, your chiding
you really cared, you put me first
when I came to your side
when I wanted just to be with you
I must have told you before
how good it felt listening
while you shared your wisdom
I know now I should have
You'll be married soon, to someone you love
And with those vows, I'll never see you again
you'll be a husband with a wife
a friend of mine a thousand miles away
And you being where you'll be
I doubt I'll see you much
but if anyone asks me who it was
it was you, brother, my friend

DAYS YOU KNEW ME
- By Anthony Buccino

Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

LAUGHTER

I like the sound of the word fronds
I think, though, it should end in a Z
And all I can think of
is a palm frond.
I suppose you can hold a frond
in your palm
without saying you're holding
it in the palm of your hand.
After all, where else do you
have palms?
You have balls on your feet
But are there palms on your feet too?

I like the sound of the word balms
and the way it ends in a closed mmm
like some thing you ate that tastes too good
for words and all you can say is mmm
and soothes you like, well, like a balm

I like the sound of the word laughter
although I think it should own an F
in there some where.
It reminds me of living happily ever after
but when you change one letter
it changes to a sound like water
(at least, where I come from, it does.)
I know laughter and daughter
and I like the sound of each
in its way to make me smile.

AMERICAN BOY PUSHING SIXTY
- By Anthony Buccino
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

APOCALYPSE

Yes, I am
well, anyway, I used to be
that is, that was, before the rock sheet
wrapped in rolling pins
ruined my recollection
that is, of early childhood
but that's been done before
long before
Yes, I will be
if I've the half-chance to work
long and hard with my buddy who passes the
pen with the phosphorous ink
it glows with the harking angels
in the sun if a fat man's shadow
undresses slowly nearby
No, I'm not very sure
but if you say so, I'd believe you
that is, if you weren't lying through
you teeth, that is, if you never
lied to anyone before, but you've got a point
what is the use, to you or to me
of trying to tell the truth
from someone else?

DAYS YOU KNEW ME
- By Anthony Buccino
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

SELF PORTRAIT AT 54

after Ted Kooser Self Portrait at 39

Fifty four years ago in 1954
I was born
about ten years after
D-Day in Normandy.

Now look at me
What have I done
done to the promise of youth
who heard what was promised
any more than what was wished

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

SINCE YOU’VE GONE

I hope this letter finds you well
I was trying to remember
If I wrote you since you’ve gone
Or if I just thought about
writing to you and never got
around to it since you’ve gone

I do want you to know
that I think of you,
Mostly when the subject
of Egypt or the West Bank
becomes the conversation
But at other times, too
I think of you
whenever I stop to chat
how long I’ve been here
and the people I’ve known
and you having started
just months before me
always are in that jumble
of work memories.

Though I know you’d
rather not be here, you’d much
rather be talking of cameras
and fine photographs
and about Venice, too,
I’m talking this moment
to tell you that even though
you are not here
I think of you.

For all the years I’ve stared across
this shithole of Hudson River
I still can’t say the names
of more than a half-dozen
buildings over there.

Rockefeller Center, I’ve been there
looked back at this place, too.
I hit the Empire State Building, too
a long time ago with a friend from Ohio.

We walked over at Ground Zero
but if the buildings had names
I don’t know them, and never did.
I still see the exhaust towers
for the underground PATH
and it makes sense now
that sometimes ahead of the car
pulling into the station
You get that flash wind
of diesel fumes that choke you
But as for the rest of the everything
over there, names on buildings
seem to mean the least of all.

ONE MORNING IN JERSEY CITY
- By Anthony Buccino
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

SUNDIAL

Spring time and the legs are back
but what of the goose babies at the sundial?
Gone are the goslings. The trimmed flora
leaves no coverage and mamma goose knows it.

Just wait – you just wait soon the sun will warm
this place and soon you’ll stand elbow to elbow.
Your buoy, green like a watermelon
floating in the murkish water
like a giant bobber waiting for a strike.
Who ever would have thought
a watermelon would float?

If this hotel is supposed to be
a ship docked for people to see
then why not this pointy building
a rocket to the moon?
Launch-ees would look down
& see Miss Liberty waving bye-bye
“Ya’ll come back now, heah!”

We could wait near the sundial for
joggers and power walkers,
kissers and friends and post cards
from OUR MAN on the moon

last year the goslings on the pier
piqued our curiosity
fuzzy little birds and protective parent
the babes hopped skipped & looked cute
Maybe like the sparrows or the swallows
they’ll return to Hyatt pier – for old times’ sake

ONE MORNING IN JERSEY CITY
- By Anthony Buccino
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

TAKING THE PLEASURE OUT OF TRAVEL

Years ago when I traveled for work,
I saw much of the U.S. of A.
Mostly I saw airports
Hotels, convention centers
Not a lot of time to take in the scenes
When you’re working

That put me in New Orleans, San Fran, L.A.
Atlanta, Las Vegas, Lansing, Mich., Phia
W. Palm Beach, Fla., Kansas City, Mo., not Kansas
And Chicago more times than I’d like to count.

Some hotels had TVs and phones in the bathroom
And most of the rooms were interchangeable
A bed, a desk, an armoire with a TV, and
A mini fridge with overpriced food and drink.

In all those places the boss got the best room
And the staff were shuffled off to the farthest rooms
But once, my last time in Chicago, the new boss
Put my family and me in a suite.
My daughter, five years old then,
Had her own room, bathroom, TV and phone.
My wife and I had the same, and in between
Was a double sized room big enough for a party
And its own bar, to entertain,
and two separate bathrooms
A Murphy bed discretely tucked into the wall
And outside from our perch we got a clear view
Of Lake Michigan in the distance,
And the funky green river running down below.

That was the year they lit up Wrigley
I think it rained on the first try
And I remember learning,
after my wife and daughter left for home
while stayed behind to unwind,
That Raymond Carver had died
And how much I enjoyed reading
His short stories when I traveled.

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

PIZZA WARS OF 2006

Pizza War of 2006
by Anthony Buccino

Only in my town with its open school lunch
Would there be so many pizzerias
Vying for label of Best in Town
You had Ralph’s for a while
Then they stepped aside, to be fair
Until it was time to raise more dough
And Michael’s claimed the prize
With the count it was disputed in the backroom
And two winners emerged with the title
The formerly friendly businessmen
Now engaged in a firm debate
Who puts the best pizza on the plate

It all started so innocuously, innocently, in fact,
For the Jaycees who raised scholarship money
So Nutley’s best and brightest could afford college

So now you have a pizza war
And the tossers’ dispute unsettled
As we wait for the this year’s winners
Have called in the big guns to decide the winner
The League of Women Voters will be overseeing
The pizza wars this year, and they decided
That each person shall have only one vote
The Pizza Challenge they are calling it
This the tenth annual event of pies
When once again Nutley pizzerias will vie

The loser this year, we hear, will
Sleep with the anchovies

- By Anthony Buccino

From the upcoming YOUNTAKAH COUNTRY A Poetic View of Nutley Old and New
Copyright © 2010-2017 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.