The Poet's Room

         Judith my sister sent this picture of me years ago. I keep it on my desk beside my computer. I've puzzled over it. Wondering how old was I? Based on family stories this may have been my second birthday. Was the hobby horse a gift? Or already in the family? I don't know. I love that I'm laughing in the picture. I have absolutely no remembrance of this event or being this age. I do see that my mother dressed me in pants way to long such that she rolled up the cuffs. But I do remember my first day of kinder garden walking toward the door in a new pair of jeans with cuffs rolled up half way to my knees. "You'll grow into them," mother said. I'm  sure I grew out of them waist wise long before I grew tall enough to unroll the cuffs to my ankles. Again what I love about the picture, I'm laughing with joy being me in that moment on the hobby horse.           Consciousness, awareness grows as we develop, it can be easy to lose ...

  Path to the Pines & Spring Beyond     Life's a journey. Many short walks after our first few tentative steps. Now that Winter has set in with snow and cold verdant summer and fall's transition becomes a distant memory.  My walks frequently take me through the Prairie into the Pines through the Woods and down to the Spring.      Walking is controlled falling. One foot pushes our weight forward while the opposite leg swings the next foot forward to arrest our fall as the weight is transferred to that foot.  Then repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, on and on and on. A fall happens when one foot catches on something or slips along the way. We trip. Frequently we trip at the start of life while learning and toward the end as our footsteps become faltering and unsteady. Those early trips a learning experience.  We get up bandage knees and move on. Trips late in life can be our final downfall. A potential tragedy.        W...

You Are Invited!  Live Poetry & Music  At the Wil-Mar Center  The Wild Hog in the Woods Coffee Shop Friday November 8,  7:30 to 9:30 pm 504 S. Brearly St. Madison, Wi 53703           Friends Romans and Country persons ... I've not come to bury Caesar for he died long before my time. Although my name is Anthony I had nothing to do with that event. Instead have been invited to read some of my poetry by Dave Schindele, a fine musician and friend. I will be reading an excerpt from a collection of poetry I recently submitted t o a contest for possible publication. The title of the collection is Black Ink On White Paper  . Below is the title poem and a bit of a long poem titled Song of the Frivolous Man.  For all of you who are local and can make it I would love to see there.  Black Ink On White Paper Black ink On  White paper, Words Upon a Page; Out of Diapers, I toddle Across The floor, Open  The door ...