portsmouth poetry
New work by Tom Pennacchini from New York and a new video poem from Joanna Lilley's collection 'Endlings'
New work by Tom Pennacchini from New York and a new video poem from Joanna Lilley's collection 'Endlings'
TOM PENNACCHINI NEW YORK
TOM PENNACCHINI NEW YORK
Tom describes himself as "a flaneur from NYC, an actor and a scribbler of words". He has sent us the following poems. Go to our 'Reviews' page for a review of his poetry and where to access it.
A Bay Wolf in the Apartment of Eagles
Come the dawning
Regardless of mood
I like
To take some moments
To
cut
the
Rug
in the morn light of my room
dip
move
vibe and shimmy
I do the spasmodic
To the
Radio
Amusing me self
And digging
The reflection of my Moves as
Silhouetted
in the Van Gogh prints
On my walls
Oh yeah
I Got It
A RocknRoll kid
from
Get to Gone
It's my
Days
Dawn
and
Regardless of mood
This is my private morning
Clarion Call
and my
Free Flying
Fuck It All
sense of reprieve
yes madness no
i cannot -
hear
for all the talk talk ...
nor see
for the smile displays a horror
the
odoriferous stench
of the inevitable inimical political scientifical
is a rough toughie
I refuse the obligation when the
taste
rankles to a treacle so
keep talking -
while I
touch
a leaf
to feel my life
An Elliptical Labyrinth (Ob La Di)
The morning light has broken
Upon the wall
outside
I watch it sharpen
While sipping coffee
It broadens
over
The walls entirety
Into a full gleaming twinkle
I sip
Feeling the vibration
here
in the concrete hades
Such loveliness
it can sometimes does
I am looking out the window with my classical on as I ponder the rigmaroles of existence discussing such with the most fascinating person I know.
Every time I feel I've made a valid point or observation during my ongoing convo I like to whip off my glasses to add further emphasis while highlighting a point that's been made salient and to add further punctuating resonance landing on a note redolent of conversational flair.
For example as I gaze out I reflect to myself on the virtues of eschewing the virtual for the sake and embracement of tactility
and doing the sharp clean whip on eschew.
When I revelate that the only thing remaining is to become a saint there is a slow whipping on become. Like that.
Happenstance can work well and good sometimes.
Oh sweet exquisiteness, as I lovingly prepare an afternoon aperitif and just now at the ready of the first gentle sip (lord how I love my ceremonies!) the radio crows out "heroes" - Ah yes, aglow and a flow, I duly proceed to an illuminated bask.
The heart of the matter resides in the entire lonesomeness of the venture, and so dream, a much needed break from the prosaic, makes fantasy a much vaunted ally. So it goes, the garden of eden and myself with menagerie of profound friendships and equipped with a fleet of canines are baying in unison at the rising moon each eve over the waters.
I think of a bovine at dusk by the side of a country road, looming and ruminating. Life can be so wonderful! And indeed the cat never ceases to contribute the phenomenal and to provide blessed insight into all things seriously absurd, a well rounded tutorial in surrealist burlesque,
It welcomes and relieves one from the strangulating confinements of love and isolation, providing a delightfully futile longing for unencumbered innocence and a bit of air.
So it goes, the gallivanting ambition is to string two good days in a row together.
But for now, synchronicity dovetails to a tee and a thickening
of well and good in the here/now of slow nothing.
Master
A step outside into the new morn
is immediately met by the old
hub and bub of an air full of cellular contraption babble imbued with the shrill and inconsequential
Cars whizz by handled by louts with a preposterously overblown sense of themselves inhabited by a conjoinment
of emaciated sense of decorum and bloated commitment to stupidity and who sadly feel that to drive is to lean on the horn.
I step on in swift anticipation of my park sanctuary a few blocks due west.
On arrival there is one of the elevated finely sculpted steel receptacles housing potted bouquet bushes that are currently filled with petals of yellow
that ring wrought iron around the fountain.
I am duly summoned to my morning ablution which consists of a face full of plunge into its thicket and
a deep inhalation of glorious morning proper sustenance.
This day tho I had to approach with some trepidation as there was a squirrel on one side of the structure that had its own ritual to tend to - knowing their propensity for brazenness I approached with caution and
making sure there was a suitable bit of distance I take my ceremonial dip.
When I raised my head from the sweet intoxication the squirrel does so simultaneously and the critters face was a bearded coat of fresh soil
right then staring direct- a sod pasted kisser - the air crackles with a flash of frivolous whilst enhancing and abetting a most enjoyable slow exhalation.
My dear friend you have provided a most blessed respite from the hum and drum and
so many many thanks for this divine bit of illuminating simplicity in action and clarification of levity’s mandate.
Good morning
Newsie
He would come to the door ever so slow
Deep into dotage and well past prime time
I waited amid discomforts shade
Eager to collect and be on...
I liked the design of my route
All customers were conveniently located next to each except
for one lone house down the street a ways which was a drag on Sunday morning because that was the day I had to stuff all the papers and stack them in a grocery cart instead of the rest of the week's thin editions which were easily fitted into my portable sack and slung over my shoulder for an easy afternoon delivery stroll around the block (Saturday mornings I trucked out my bike and then I would treat myself to breakfast)
Sweet Bitch Memory
/man oh man...
the frowzy chippy who blurted on
about the doings and going ons of the scotland yard
(what she meant specifically I could never ascertain)
the one who insisted I give change to the tune of a dime
on her 90 cent weekly tab
(my young self indignant at this outlandish chintz)
I henceforth always made an elaborate spectacle of fishing and searching all about myself for her "dime" whenever I collected from her (but always coughing it up eventually - I was a good kid)
it was the year 1977 (we were there)
I had heard thru the neighborhood vine about her demise and
went up to the white house to collect
He trudged to the door and we made our transaction
both of us looking down until the close of business then
He said to me looking up "my wife died" and I responded "I know"
He slowly lowers his head backing away just as slowly shutting the door
I do my own slow lower into the realization (vague) that happens (if you're lucky?) that a goodly bit of life consists of pain and fear -- so much goddam sadness
I stood a moment - left and was
glad to go on and get away
Lo here in the current deep up to the neck of the boo radley years
paid up in full
my bridge burner dues
losing bits piecemeal
/ it's not so vague
I have often sensed the imperative of getting away ... kinda sorta before the reality boom lowers -
There/then
and now
I didn't make it
kid hope
The children are being led like cattle across the grounds. They have yellow life jackets on and are holding on to rings around a rope.
They are surrounded by grownups (a funny word). The children chirrup and look blankly around while being led around.
I go back to my reverie and when I look back one of them has somehow shed the yellow life jacket. Another grownup points this out in passing to one
of the minders (another funny) who scuttles back to get it while clamping on to one of the little ones. Elsewhere on the grounds are
a number of people taking pictures of themselves (not funny). The one who broke out of the uniform looks blithely on. I stir slightly with a glimmer for this ones prospects.
Little ones it is a good life innit bouncing between a nap and a frolic to a meal and back.
But before you know it they get ya roped and tethered. You have provided Inspiration just now. Luck and Hold. Don't let the multiple kisses of institutional mort consume you -
family-school-career-obligations-upkeep more-repeat... Throw that yoke off!... you are gifted golden just now child ... just now
Ahhh if only it can remain eternally unvarnished...
if only...
Ah hang in there--
Thanks for the lift kid
Put In Place Out of Place
I have been shut down occasionally vis a vis my mutterances on the street corner and while attempting movement on the frenetic city sidewalks
I like to do it in order to sort of clear a path and in order
to facilitate and free up navigation-
at times I'll say "I gotta do a little bit a that swivel and swerve" - or as I zig and zag out a maneuver - " just the slip n slide" whilst moving and weaving thru the throngs
Other times I'll emit a bit of a shriek
Or
Announce constructive critiques regarding their aptitude for city walking like
"Another dolt - doing the diagonal "! - admonishing the herd - "I am begging for mercy "! "good heavens - cease and disperse the cluster "!
Their compass clearly needing alignment (my god do they drive like this?) -
Must make sure that shit is correct! I am trying to move freely goddamnit!
"I gotta circumnavigate stone agony"! ... "Becomes imperative "!!
Perhaps I'll be clogged by a stroller
"Nightmare in perpetuity "!
A Yammerer on the phone AND a stroller-
"You know they're out to torture"!!
Then there are the odd times in which I need to be schooled -
One time I was loudly griping about a construction obstruction (it is all over and everywhere) and a yob kinda bloke said " its NY - Stop complaining"...
I readily complied
Another time I was wading through a crowd announcing "I know my babies ain't shy" whereof a charming lass turned to me and demurred "How do you know I'm not shy?"
I fluttered - gurgled some kind of Non-sequiter before feathering and loping off.
Well perhaps I'm not a confrontational sort but there you have it
just trying...trying to move along.
A Proper {Cost} Effective Treatment Plan
in a world
Gone
Topsy Turvey
and that's going at it
Mild
it is a good thing to have
Some assistance in
Fortifying
The
Bone to Back
things
Like classical radio QXR
and
The library
Thanks you guys
What a Resource
Thanks
It is fine and good to have this glimmer
Sitting up and rubbing my eyes
In the park
Under this splendid tree
A nap and a gentle reminder
That grace is everywhere
and that grace is free
The Real Deal
a mite filled
scruffy orange tabby He was
he damn near put my eye out
as a kitten when I burrowed into his fuzz of warmth and he met me with a stiff jab (I do believe it was unintentional)
When it was feeding time I would yell "got something for the kitty !" and he would yelp
and leap out of whatever crevice he was sequestered in
and join me for happy hour. Whenever I got the music revved I would crow "Cmon my boy !" and he would
meet the crow with a howl of reciprocity and get up on his hinds brushing his head on my leg
in a whirl/whoop of ecstatic rocknroll delirium
He endured many frequent flier miles as I would send him airborne - he would always land on the bed
with an impressive scrambling aplomb
Man he had style
In a world where it seems like everyone is seemingly doing everything (humanly/technologically) possible
to stave off aloneness - wherever he was - He simply Was
and seemed to be saying I'm just where I want to be/
right here/now/this is it
like I said ... style
Then there were the easy or more sedate times of serenity in toto with reading and buzzing
creating a room of resonate harmony
I miss that little fucker big time
His sanguinary grace and innate ease were nonpareil - I learned from him more than from most
friends like that are rare - they are damn hard to find
he was a true abiding friend
He truly Was
Textural Wanderer
There is a dignity to the Saunter
That the motor vehicle operator cannot approach
I have enjoyed Sojourning
But
Today's Ramble is a day more for Ambling
Yesterday I believe
I was
Free Floating with a
Touch
Of Meander
Tomorrow may be a
Simple Straggle
We'll see when [if]
The time comes
How and in what form the Jaunt commences
If one is fortunately able
To possess the fine motor skill
of placing
one foot in front of other
The gift
of the Nature
of the days Walk about
reveals Itself
and
Now
I have somewhat shifted gears
as
I sashay across the busy Herald Square intersection
A cretin honks me
I slowly and with a flair for panache
Flip my hand
as
my
Slow
Perambulation brings me across
The street
I send {cavalierly}
And with a
rather imperial flourish
of a
Wave
The unfortunate dullard
On
And Proceed
On my Roving way
...
Summation...
Take your car,
your scooter
your LOL
and jammit onna stickit man
I shall take
The
Roam
and
The
Roll
of
The
Way of ..
The
Slow
Quiet
Stroll
crazy meet-up and racial harmony ensues
A person of considerable lassitude who likes to wile time productively away
can do no better than the NYPL.
It is a true haven and sanctuary
that contains some of the best living theater around
as well as its other multidisciplinary features
and benefits which provide
the sustenance and nourishment
that my dedicated loaf ethic craves.
As for fellow inhabitants
You do develop a sort of internal nut alert
that senses the overtly wacked at a flickering glance.
This particular scenario
insinuatingly unfolded
as follows:
A younger ebony in fatigues
with ruinous gapped jack o lantern choppers chattering jabbewocky.
A somewhat frantic pacing to and fro.
features contorted into a twisted twitch grimace. Clutching a water bottle.
then stopping by the printer drooling amidst a sniggering cackle.
An older ivory in full hippie regalia
consisting of vest, top hat, granny specs
and large key chain set dangling from large belt and dockers -
trippy and something right out of wavy gravy psychedelia -
Quite bemused,
staring
unblinking
and gently nodding slightly
with a benign understanding air
and
with seeming approval
perhaps even cheering ebony's crazy on
while
ebony stalked about in frothing gibberish
and then
Ivory staring with glazed half smile
whilst ebony in the midst of a blink and a jabber-
Ivory catching ebony's eye
gave a short wave
to which ebony
granted a thumbs up
before going off again
Ivory ever so slowly
ethereal unto himself turned to the shelves
while muttering in a holy like fog and then genuflecting
an acknowledgment [?]
a tacit agreement of sorts [?]
...
I decide to instill some freight into this rapprochement.
Do they sense something in the tempo of the other?
Ebony's antic dementia - Ivory's placid insanity
Outside of racial lines their addled states
also seemed to contain a yin/yang polarity
and
their mutual lunacies were bound with taoist/confucianist over/undertones
this subtle form of something/nothing between them
As their wave lengths of warped
orbit around and about
before departing back to
their own inter/outer galactic
zones of particular peculiar
made for yet
another
undeniably rich experience
at
the incomparable NYPL.
The joint really is a summer fest all year round
Perplexity in Perpetuity
A particularly mild spring like
February day impelled me to go over
to confront the rivers gently undulating charms.
It's early afternoon and I sit to go with the river flow.
It's rolling blue and green
with the dappled sunlight dancing across.
I remember a similar February day long ago
when my ex and I took our Hibachi
up to Eagle Rock and fired up some picnic eats.
Looking down from the summit.
Hot Dogs and Hamburgers on a warm winter day.
It felt good.
So does this (but I'm hungry).
And later on tonight 'I Vitelloni' is being aired.
Ah. That ending. What an ending.
I sit with the water. And I wonder.
Then
There
Here
Now.
What can I do but weep.
Then look forward to food.
That's All Folks
Perhaps there really is
nothing
To be said at this point
cepting
Perhaps a gestural shrugging
Hands outstretched palms up
Head tilted In either direction
(to emphasize confounded)
Perhaps an additional utterance of
"Excuse all Horrors"
then a plea for a mist
of merciful silence
Gone on Automatic and Ride the Surface
I find that the fine art of communique
is in some significant straits
Well was it ever not weird to be alive?
But here in the 21st...
Now
THIS is ridiculous
I'll layer in some specifics
I recently had a conversation with a fella I have known for some time
At various temporary jobs
Well it is summertime
and a heat wave has been on
And he asked me if I had an a/c
I sort of look forward to this annual exchange because you know the weather is a
steady and reliable topic and the guy
Asks me this every year (I always tell him that I do but always withhold the fact that I am too thrifty to use it). I mean setting aside the possibility
that I'm not particularly memorable
(I submit this option with some reluctance)
I'm going to go forward with a pooh on that theory
I mean I know that he does (have one)
and I
also know he gets pest control service occasionally
Well I mean I have these conversations and it seems that life information is consistently being asked and repeated
This
Lack of a simple listen
This
Consistent overlap of talk all a tangled
This
Evident preference of tongue over ear
I have known some of these people
for years and they are more than colleagues (a few anyway). but less than friends
And
it isn't an age thing
its presence has crossover
This
Repetitive exchange
This
Telling the same stories
There is minimal recollection and its perchance due to a
liberal scattering of informational seeds all about and anon (but the roots don't wanna dig or hang) and also
a minimizing of any genuine specificity in regards to a more
resonant connectivity with fellow beings whilst we
while our time away on the planet
I dunno
History has given us many ideas over its due course but
I got nothing
Well I mean Henry David already suggested simplifying
(christ he probably said it ad nauseum)
I'm just
Wondering what the hell happened
All that that implies (or Nothing)
The soothe of the train ride is riffled by a
variety of violative factors
Flash of green rolls by yet I am being mashed
by the thick set creature beside me who is on the natch
babbling the good buddy inane on/in
the cell/plague instrument of torture.
Meanwhile a business person (human)? directly behind discusses daily dealings and frenzied negotiations in an unnecessarily high volume tone
whilst swarming families tumble by in likewise fashion ...
These activities are ceaseless with
nary a pause for the sweetness of silence
nor for the simple stillness of life's ease and oxygen
It beggars to ask.... What is this?? Just .... what is ... this.... Lunacy Unleashed!!!
Delicacy has gone the way of the Dodo &
the sum total of these myriad abrasions, to use a bit of yesteryear parlance is
"harshing my mellow ".
I wonder if it wouldn't be nice if the rippling currents of the passing long island sound rose and swallowed these bargain basement beings wholesale (a grand sweeping flush)
I sit thru it and attempt endurance -
(resilience seems to be such a mandate)
but really
how do they endure putting those uniforms on every day/ why do they /not hear/themselves/
Mercy
it may be time to get some distance from the Northeast - also beggaring the why is there such a premium on breeding when the overriding qualitative results are as such.
I feel duly necessitated to git away
but already spend most time with myself and at times find that to gruel as well.
What can the plan possibly be -Some humps tryta figgerit - most prolly do not .. so .. what?
Mercy
meanwhile
it's
these
beings ?
They identify as human but seemingly lack the wherewithal of humane.
shit..
shit. breathe. repeat. until. full. stop
A Slipping Glimpse
man I was slight of stature but big in mouth - a wee one
of maybe six and hanging with some bigger neighbor
boys in their kitchen enjoying a repast of
devil dogs.. something was said and
I put in what I thought was an astute observation which
the oldest boy took with considerable abrupt umbrage - time was slow but we
were fast! - there was some bobbing
and weaving around the table..
I hurled myself out the front door and
hurtled down and around the corner
I did not get far before the back of my shirt was
clenched and I received a quick flurry of sharp shots to the head
and for the piece de resistance a mother of a charley horse that had me
writhing and crying on the ground (there was quite the contusion for some days after)
I got up and hobbled after them choking that I was gonna tell my father and
emphasized with a heaving wrack
that he was going to punch them (unfortunately I may have squeaked on "punch")
they laughed and my brutalizer said "your old man don't even live with you"
we walked back around the corner
them laughing me crying
I don't even remember what I said (ahhh words..-- whatcanya say?) that sparked the savagery
just the chase and punishment
however
the notion occurred and most assuredly reiterates down the long line
that social settings can be rather fraught with tetch
it's the best
he was pouring at the happening and usually there is a fair amount of disdain for the enthusiasts
who like to sidle up to sample the snacks, libations and what have you goodies.
he was a wisp of fair blond - a hippy kid.
he asked me if I would like him to crack my can of brew
I told him that this was not necessary
I looked at some stuff and listened to some other stuff
trying to maintain a bit of elbow room
while the crowds swirled and yammered
biding some time before refill and then I went back for another and he
cracked this one for me and said "cheers"
I drank it down and went for a walk down the street
I did not want to appear to be too gluttonous so I gave it some minutes
when I resurfaced in the crowded room and foraged thru the groups back to my man
he smiled and said "I grabbed this one at the bottom so that its chilled and now it needs to be shotgunned".
I laughed and retorted with double thumbs up
Impressed that this cat accurately assessed my quench and provided a
responsive and congenial atmosphere in one that can be rather unpleasant and clannish
my man had it
and I salute him for it
the damn hippy dippy
had it
kindness
©Copyright Tom Pennacchini
All Rights Reserved
Portsmouth Poetry is proud to publish the work of Tom Pennacchini. Publication on an open, non-profit website does not allow free use or reproduction. These poems are his exclusive property and if you wish to use or reproduce any of the poems you must obtain his permission. We would be happy to direct any enquiries to Tom.
Joanna Lilley from her 2020 'Endlings'
Joanna Lilley from her 2020 'Endlings'
"Endlings" by Joanna Lilley was one of the poetry highspots of 2020 and we are proud to be associated with this magnificent collection of poems which highlight the devastating impact we have had on the creatures of the world. Jo's publishers, Turnstone Press have now released a video of one of the poems 'Nothing Can Be Done'
You can see it on You Tube at -
Teaching English at Friendship House
Although he came from the mountains
(this much I learnt)
he didn't understand my words for snow
I fluttered my fingers
in front of him
but he only saw the wings of birds.
I led him to the window
wrapped myself in my arms
at the shivering sky but he only stared.
It was slow and involved
the elimination
of sun, wind and rain but we got there.
Sometimes I think of him
back at the border
I imagine his mountains their fingers of shadow
the stutter of gunfire
the quietness of snow
Copyright Maggie Sawkins
December 2019
This poem is by local poet Maggie Sawkins, winner of 2013 Ted Hughes Award for New Work in Poetry.
She is the founder of Tongues & Grooves in the Community and runs creative writing projects in and around Portsmouth.
The poem from Maggie's collection "The Zig Zag Woman" published by Two Ravens Press investigates the complexity of language and outlines the loss and pity of forced exile
©All Rights Reserved
This poem is the property of Maggie Sawkins who has given us permission to publish it. If you wish to use or reproduce the poem you must seek her permission. We would be happy to direct any enquiries to her