Paolo Javier – 2 Poems

Paolo Javier

2 Poems

Jacuzzi Haiku

against the current

                              your nipples bloom

                                                                against the current

Cento:  The Lid to the Great Jar

my father believed in work.
my father caught the baby mice
in the sun and in the rain
the three of us somewhere
between 9 and 10 years old.
I came home from grammar school

one day
and my mother was sitting,
my mother, father and I
all people start to
down in New Orleans.

my first wife was from Texas and we came back.

my daughter looked like a young Katherine Hepburn
my daughter said this when she was 5:
hello Bill Abbott:
dirty little bugger
it was not a good day.

we liked the priest because once we saw him buy
an icecream cone.
his name was Eddie and he had a
big white dog
with a curly tail.
not that I minded
this Dutchman
one orator proving there was a God

“I knew you were a bad-ass,” he said.

Bach, I said, he had 20 children.

the horse stood in the yard and
I told the guy—he was watering his lawn—
you ever squirt my dog
again and you’ll have to deal with me.

moments of agony and moments of glory,
my beast comes in the afternoon.


I awakened at 1030 a.m.
I found myself in middle age
born next to cold dogs and
I never realized then what a good time I was
I was a packer in a factory east of
Alameda street
I  came  in  and  all  the  time  cards  wer
e  pulled

it’s a farce, the great actors, the great poets, the great
to be writing poetry at the age of 50

I believe in earning one’s own way
all theories,
like clichés,
shot to hell.

if you gotta have wars
I suppose World War One was the best.


what’s genius?
plants which easily winter kills
when you no longer see their name on the program
the Free Verse Poets whispered

there’s Picasso
there’s Barry in his ripped walking shorts
Houdini was caught off guard
the horse stood in the yard and
here’s a male giraffe
they come visit and
“look,” I say,“you shouldn’t have broken in

we had the nicest old guy
living in the back—
like the rest of us, Jack didn’t always shine too brightly
he used to sit in his bedroom slippers
long ago he edited a little magazine
it’s there
you don’t think you’ll find anybody in there
he comes by unexpectedly
speaking about going crazy,
just thinking about
when I went up to Santa Cruz to read.


when the phone rings it’s usually a man’s
little dark girl with
kind eyes

poor Mimi Trochi
once a fine poetess
she was 32 years younger
if you think some women want only your love
she pulls a large silver mirror
she passed from one important man
they were not quite looking at one
WINE: at present you are buying about 60 bottles.


I awaken at 1130 am
listening to Richard Strauss
again and again

many of the paper boys here in L.A.
sound of doom like an approaching
was back east.


115 degrees
today at the track
lost my ass at the races


the feelings I get
bad shape. sick. can hardly hold my soul together
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
listening to Bruckner now.

I’ve memorized all the fish in the sea
while the rents go up elsewhere
I used to look across the room
it is 98 degrees and I am standing in the center
I have been hungry many times
after she died
I am sad

just thinking about
wives’ heads are
the lid to the great jar

the world is full of
constipated writers.
and eager readers who need plenty of new
it’s depressing.

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