20151029 (fall)

A week ago we had some snain*

The restaurants are chaining down

Their alfresco-ware for the season

Perhaps they have no basements to

Store the summer goods they can’t

Pull up the sidewalk fencing which

Would help when the shovels come 

Out my trees two in front several

In the back yard are losing leaves

I rake the front distribute it as mulch

To keep the weeds down in the

Streetside uncultivated beds the 

Back yard gets raked when all 

Have fallen hopefully before the 

Snow I’ll take bags of them to

The neighborhood gardens a block

West I had a shredder a large

Barrel composter a colleague 

Bequeathed stifling a sigh of 

Relief that he had dumped the 

Two too much maintenance so

Little product for the effort

I think I spent more time 

Unjamming the machine than

Actually shredding honing the

Blade was a Saturday morning

In itself Heights spec’d a day

To suck up your leaves if you’d

Raked them into a neat heap

Oxymoron if ever there was one

I always missed the day but they

Collected bagged leaves and they

Do here too seems like a waste to

Let trees suck the nutrients out of

The ground only to have collectors

Truck them away composting is

One of those admirable green 

Alternatives I wouldn’t sit there

With a pair of scissors hacking

Individual leaves to compostable

Bits on my grounds but using

Fuel to cart them off to some

Central composting center adds

To the problem because good 

Composting releases methane an

Even more powerful greenhouse 

Gas than carbon dioxide damned

If you do damned if you don’t

But you can burn methane rather

Than gasoline or coal and end 

Up saving a bit of Mother Earth

But for that you’ll need a digester

And a lot of process piping at no

Mean expense your neighbors

Will not envy you bringing industry

To the block what did the forests

Do before we came with all our

Green folderol don’t get me wrong

I’m among the worst of tree-huggers

But between having a lawn to feed

Manicure tend and then dispose of

With a clean conscience nature’s got

Us in a bag cabin life is starting to 

Look really good except for the

Bugs in the summertime which

We may have to eat

c.J.S.Manista, 2015

*snow, rain

20151028 (576th monthlyversary)

She left notes in my clothes

When I travelled despite my own

Packing she’d somehow place them

In pockets deep in my shoes for

Me to find as I dressed in the 

Morning away thinking of you 

Remember how much we loved

Doing this going there when 

We talked on the phone she’d 

Never let on say look in your

Shaving kit try on your tennies

I’d find most of them before 

I got back some calm some cute

Some just this side of bawdy

An occasional mint surprise in

My blazer carefully wrapped

Again in a tissue scented with

Her perfume she was like that

Not every day not every trip

But often enough to let me know

Not to forget her playful side

I tried to return the favors but

Was obviously so bad at it I earned

The tag klumsota it wasn’t my game

I failed at spontaneity big time  

Couldn’t bring off the deceits

Essential to throwing a surprise 

Party I hadn’t the practice flair

For lying cleverly quickly

Enough to keep a ruse going

I was sure she caught on she 

Denied knowing but winked at me

When she said coming home

There are a lot of cars parked

Near the house tonight I don’t

Recall whether it was for a

Birthday or graduating from

Nursing school sure would 

Have thought I’d remember 

I have no pictures no unused

Invitations to bolster its reality

Until I check with friends who

Should have attended I 

May have to set it aside 

As something I could have 

Done should have done

Even if I brought it off poorly

I would have made the effort

To return something for all

The wonderful gifts she gave me

Who would bake a cherry chip 

Cake frosted in pink with Diligence

Written on it for my birthday

Every year or every Valentine’s

Day make heart-shaped meatloaf

Slathered in catsup with red mashed 

Potatoes beets close to red

Little gestures less likely as we

Grew older consumed with paying

For kids in college another in/out

Of prison toward the end it 

May have come down to 

Remembering monthly-versaries

Each twenty-eighth of the month

Poems I wrote of her which she 

Regarded as undeserved or at least

That I helped her get her boots

On at church Sundays in winter

Kneeling at her feet with people

Standing about she’d had so much

Trouble getting them on by herself

The chronic back pain that worsened

Every day until August

c. J.S.Manista, 2015

20151027 (losses)

Somehow in the shifting about

I lost some things I miss very much 

A five-minute tape of my comic

Performance at Akron’s Hilarities

Comedy Club except it wasn’t called

That then a half-hour tape of Jean’s

Family movies of her as a young

Woman made from eight millimeter

Film which I had someone convert

To VHS and sent one to each of 

The kids the stash of unmounted

Photos that didn’t get put into the

Albums worst of all the box of 

Our correspondence in the year

We first met when she was still

At Indiana and I was working

As a mailman it had other things

Too a set of one inch cubes I had

Painted faces white or red and

Half red and half white along a

Diagonal she had done well on

Her IQ test except for the spacial

Visualization I gave her the cubes

So she could practice while away

And one five-inch crutch I carved

From wood with a pink bow on it

She’d hurt her foot and sent me a

Photograph of her leaning on her

Pink-personalized support things

I think now I would never have

Thrown away kept in a box clearly

Labelled memorabilia but of course

Just yesterday afternoon I couldn’t

Find my green plastic leaf rake

Once I had two then one now none

So I have misplaced things tools

Especially but they eventually turn

Up usually after the need for them

Is gone I’ve got over two thousand

Slides I have yet to convert to CD

So the kids will each have albums

Of their growing up of their parents

Early years stupid me none are marked

For the dates which alone would have

Helped me keep them in order is it one

Of my last tasks the bucket list of 

OCD that will weigh me down till it’s

Done I knew I had the memo box when

I moved in with my ex- I thought I had

The tapes too I know I went through a

Phase of purging my life so I could

Readily accept my second marriage

I can’t think I threw those things out

I kept the albums the slides in the

Garage the memo box too like I

Said there was a lot of shifting of stuff

Over the years the tumult of the

Separation re-establishing myself

Here in this house there are so many

Times they might have been pitched

In error sadly some things even

Things precious just to you

Disappear and you 

Have to release

c. J.S.Manista, 2015 

20151026 (city schools)

I subbed for five years in the

Cleveland Municipal School

District mainly one-day jobs

In middle and high schools

Besides learning I had no talent

For the task the system was in 

Complete disorder I found no one 

Would say what everyone knew

Subbing for a daily absence was

Supposed to be a matter of using

The lesson plan leaving notes for

The next day no teacher ever had 

The required plan making the job

A matter of preventing spillage 

Of your own or students’ blood 

Kids knew they could all but 

Set the desks ablaze and get

Away with it because you

Innocent daily knew none of

Their names as attempting to

Take attendance soon taught you 

A group of anonymous pupils

Are a seated mob at best who 

Ached to unleash their barely 

Suppressed adolescent rage on an 

Authority figure namely you 

Who needed the work would 

Not report outright rebellion lest

He be accused of failing to keep 

Order in the class be disinvited

Ever again to return as long as the

Breakage was within reason I

Kept mum high schoolers were

Far more restrained violence

Took too much effort might 

Be a parole violation their

Thirst for learning nil they

Generally kept quiet nobody 

Wanted to call it babysitting

An occasional administrator

Attempting to seem to do his/her 

Job might poke a head in a class 

To lecture the daily in front of 

The students about teaching not

Merely watching over students 

Asleep at their desks mind you 

Those were the better schools 

Not the ones where you kept 

Doors locked so teens roaming

The halls who acted like they owned 

The place didn't break in to start fights 

If an adult knocked on the door

You were required to have them

Present their teacher ID then

There were places the principal

Who told you strictly never to 

Touch a child then grabbed

A kid out of the lunch line

Marched him to the office

In a headlock I tried keeping a

Journal in hope the stories 

Might bring about change after

The fifth year five hundred teachers 

And all the subs were sacked

c. J.S.Manista, 2015