',4 TEl WII YS.~ 9o~ tn the Matnsfr-tt&.

«\

. /lUG 2 - .

. : "

. . '-

WATERWAYS

1980 MAGAZINE SCHEDULE FEBRUARY

W 0 r k s hop s : New York & New J e r s e y 'NY Public Reading

APRIL

New Jersey Workshop NVPublic Readings

JUNE

Poe try tr 0 m .t h e Pop u Ii s t Rea din g s at South Street Seaport Museum

JULY • 2-issues

Fair a t Sou t h S t r e e t Sea p 0 r t Mus e u m Fair, Coney Island Boardwalk

AUG U ST. 4 -i s sues

Fair at Greenwich Village River

F air. 0 n Fir e I s I a n ~ .

Fair in Albany "

. F a i r .j n B u f f a I o

OCTOBER .

Workshops

DECEMB"ER

. Pu b ll c Reading & Workshop

@ 1980, Ten Penny Players. Inc. 799 GREENWICH ST ... 'NY 100 14.

Vol. 1 Mo. 4 Atlgust 2, 198CJ

W A iii' E 19 W A Yr S: POE if BY I N ill A:E M ~ I ~ S iT REA M

PA~E

2 Richard Alan Spiegel 13 Elizabet.h Mar:J::'affino

3 Abheillant±s PeL~Y 14 Fri~z Hami]t.0n

4 George M®ntg0me~M 15 Edgar Al1a~ Pee

5 Ml!l.~rat Nemet--c,Nej at il.6 lhehman Weichsell:Daum

6 Patr;ll(da 'llililJ!ingha..rtL 17 B'arsara A. Holland

7 Mlilia Barkan 18 Ed IDe Pasquale

8 S"tan]ey II. ffiarkan lli9 Vi:r:ginia Seott.

9 Conmie~e Taylor 20 Sidney BeFna:r:d

]0 Jana Harris 21 IDonail.d Lev

lLil Pallime~ Has;tr.y 22 Kathryn Nocerino

il.2 Enid Dame 23 'Tne®dora'-Barfuaia ~isher

24 Ae~newledgements

)

Poets cont:.:ribtltirng to tnis issue read their werk August 2, !l9 8 0 at ,Idle North River Bu Lkb e'ad , Bank Street & west Street., Greenwich Village, NY.

No peaftion of "k.nis magazine may be reprinted (except EOl? review purpGses) wi"fuhout wEitten pe.Fmission fl:lom the pub]ishers.

AI] rights revert to ~he cont~ibuting poets aEter this publicati®n.

ISSN 0197-47Tl

Co-Editors: Barbara Fisher & ffiHcflard Spiegel

aen 'fuhe Nm vel?:

ed.ge

F.Hcharrd Alan Spiegel

ANIMALS

Dogs and cats

Rats and bats

Mice and hogs

Pigs and logs Animals are nice Some of them eat ice

I want a pet called a Rabbit Because it has a nice habit.

Athelantis Perry

3

MERCURIO'"S NEIGHBORHOOD

Mercurio stands by the window he,gazes at the children

in the schoolyard.

Little Joey kicks a ball which goes over the fence. Jose' gives hell to Joey because balls roll under cars which don't stop.

Little Maria wants to cry

she lost her fifty cent piece

her ice-cream stands in the store unable to be bought.

Mercurio walks away from the window with tears in his eyes.

He remembers when Joey was born, one bright and sunny morning . and the day they took him home with no thumbs to suck.

Little Joey was a mistake of nature having no arms he cannot pick his nose. He kicks the balls over the fence where cars rollover them

on a journey which always ends.

George Montgomery

4

=

BOTTLE NECK RUBBER NECK

on the highway at t.he blocking of a lane by a non-moving car other

cars are forced to trickle down to other lanes as each one of them looks back to see if the adjacent lane is fr.ee and cars on these lanes stop or don't stop, slow or don't slow, according to the distance from the car trying to enter this lane or according to the moods of the driver, and consequently create a congestion in all these adjacent lanes where cars slow down for varying stretches, sometimes in extreme cases up to a mile

and, somet~~es, completely stop. that slowing or stopping of traffic is called b. c , Le neck.

rubber nrck is the same process occurring on the other side of the highway in cars moving in the opposite direction.

Murat Nemet-Nejat

5

f

DEATH MIC'ROMETER

Measuring our moves toward death, We start using them in childhood As broken bone

Or fractured tooth

Or the death of a classmate tell us, Turn a painted image

To a heavy breath behind us in the dark. Adjust the micrometer to measure

'Those smallest increments of loss.

The football player at the bottom of the pile Extricates his scale and checks

His knees

His collarbone.

Run the knurled collar between your fingers As the damage becomes greater.

Is that a heart tremor?

Is that cough persistent?

The micrometer opens wider

Tiil at last it hits the stop,

And we graduate to a yardstick.

Patricia Filfingham

\ I

l

I

6

..,

Mia Barkan

THE SUN

Look at the sun

as beautiful as can be with sparkling eyes and a piece of the sun fell off

then the sparkling stars and the shiny moon came and washed the sun

away.

7

IN OHRID (MACEDONIA)

H. G. Wells

guides us,

our Virgil,

through the museum

of drydocked boats,

women with waterjars, children with fishing rods.

In the center of the panorama of time

we enter,

the light

of the Byzantines. enters us

and we burn

with a blue flame.

The icons

fix us with their direct stare

and we are stilled.

Stanley H. Barkan

[ -

8

, .

-

Conciere Taylor

FOR .A MAN I USED TO'LOVE (for J .. T. H.)

I know you

as well as I know the top

of Mt. Everest. I

climb it every morning at the breakfast

table. trying

to reach you

just

on the other side of that newspaper. You put it between us

like the Great Wall

of China

you

don't want to be invaded by me

and my emotions you say

I

make you sick

like the smell of a decaying body.

your contempt.

You vowed until

death

do us part you keep trying

to bury me

while 11m still 98.6° above 0

above

II

·9

r

WE RUN ALL NIGHT

Left at midnight, heavy weather.

The boat icing up, danger big danger,

bobbing, maybe going under.

But we start fishing before the light. Pulling pots

heavy wind,

crab pots

iron

600 lbs,

big as two telephone booths. We pull em up

fulla Tanner crabs

giant crabs with macabre crab faces. Rip em out

fast

breaking legs

pinchers

still thrusting

food into their mouths. We run all night

sleep at 3

fish again at 6 breakfast, fish till dark. My arms ache

no money

-fifteen wounds

healing

in my hands.

Jana Harris

10

SUMMER

Summer's golden pitchpulse.

I would like to throw che summer into a ditch and praise it from a distance.

Tempered with a cold sunlight, stitching the lush wound with cobwebs

we can't sleep, nothing is clear in the heat

and nothing will unwind us.

Am I in the groin or the skull? coiled into a nothing

but the end of summer will unwind me

you are dying, and you are sad

the only translation of the wind you understood.

The pear tree with ripe fruit

feels the pressure of its shape,

our sex leans, pulls against the air, then slips and leaks out

through the slime and spawn of insects and fish.

All afternoon the clouds drift

you stare out the window and remember a life you needed to save too late, the shadows of the .green trees

the emptied streets, rooms and playgrounds, letters dried flowers and lost voices gather like dust in the locks

of closed down asylums •.

Seeds of unravelled patterns yoU can't reweave as uhe tapes.try of honeysuckle

ea~h summer reweaves itself on the wire mesh fence.

The longing and failure of our sweet flesh the spell of death arid panic in _her fa~e your hands, tongues, nor peni..:s can unwf.nd ,

Drugged with clear wine sunlight we fall asleep over a swollen clock

a vulture is perched on the air conditioner each morning the pistol is rel.oaded

and cocked in the brain

but the summer keeps melting the trigger as it

gives.

palmer Hasty

1 1

JULY 4t 1980

Think of small towns: lemonade summers

with ice cream in soup plates fireworks down by the river after the speeches.

predictable

American towns

we could have lived in but didn't.

Here

on a Brooklyn rooftop

we're in a war movie.

Sky rocks around us.

We're pounded and whirled assaulted by falling colors: red and green un-

sensual orgasms.

Beautiful? Yes, in a way

as a car crash is, or a street fight. Raw' unpredictable power

is beautiful

at a distance.

Across the river we see Manhattan mugged by bright lights. A boy yells, 'We got 'em!'

This metaphor

is easy to understand. we1re all ,poets

or punks.

Tonight

What were they really saying-those riverside speeches

in the sodapop towns?

Enid Dame

12

MOST PERFECT SOUND

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT SOMEONE LEFT TO HEAR IT

In bed tonight my favorite perfume reminds me of your hair

2 weeks back

sunset on your chest

a field of ruddy asters across your groin

Elizabeth Marraffino

all that fire hidden beneath your slender green clothes

you lie back on some bus seat/night conceals sun earlier today Marc said

I look beautiful

. I

13

SONG 30.1 (for Margie)

Having

Ended our poem at song 300, Margie ... acknowledging At last the death of singing, the death

Of us, of myself ... I

Awaken to the darkness of the morning with

A black crepe over the sun and a wreath upon My bedroom door, and

For a moment in the cracked green paint appears

The face of my late father ... and I rise to my death, Margie I

Rise to telephone Chicag9 (against your will) to Tell you one last time I love you before

Burying myself with this poem but

Picking up my pad and pen to

Perform last rites, I

Instead

write this song, ,jOI, and

The sun pulls the crepe from his eyes in Order to read it and

Shine my hope again through my window with

Margie Margie Margie

blowing Softly in the early Breeze

Fritz Hamilton

14

ELDORADO

Gaily 'bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old -

This knight so bold - And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found

No spot of ground

That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength Failed him a length, He met a pilgrim shadow - 'Shadow,' said he, 'Where can it be - This land of Eldorado?'

'Over the Mountains Of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride,'

The shade replied, -

'If you seek for Eldorado!'

Edgar Allan Poe

15

,

)

I

·1

MEANWHILE

Putting together the glass chips and angel's hide that are

your life's a job alright. Like they say a-

bout any fortune, no matter how dubious or allergic: leave it

to me. The perfume

leaking through the tiny cracks of your complication's just

too tangy. I wait

for your feathery ascent as a common household myth.

Meanwhile

at your service.

lehman We'lchselbaufn

16

A MOCK-UP OF THE ALIEN

The creature brooding

looked dreadful. The photograph hinted at an enormous beak

and a chitinous body,

as hard and glossy

as is any beetle's body and in thundering black.

From above, the beak shone

as if in threat, and its curve suggested an unspeakable horror by curve alone, constructed

to put the fright of death in anyone who perceived it closely.

The artist did not stint at trying, he tried too hard .

. 8 arb a r a A. H 0 II and

17

MURIEL RUKEYSER

her esteem was affection easily broken like a vapor fleeting ~nto shyness.

her love was dedication

so conscious of the world she could make flowers bloom even in late autumn.

her dreams were endless manifestations of the human cry and so were her poems.

this year has faded itself with you gone from me-

too bad, muriel

your rainbow went away.

Ed De Pasquale

II

18

A BRONX POEM, OR

CEMET ARI.ES ARE TOURIST ATTRACTIONS

6o~ p~d~o, jo~ and ca~men

At Woodlawn Cemetary at Webster Ave. and 233 Herman Melville sleeps, undoubtedly anxiously, Beside Elizabeth Cady stanton, mother of seven Friend of the temperance leader and house cleaner Susan.

Duke Ellington lies elegantly nearby, Saying, 'I love you madly,'

And playing, on his piano,

'Take the I A I train. I'

It stops at 207 Street in Manhattan and Never gets to the Bronx at all. Woodlawn is the last stop

At the end of the Number Four Lexington Avenue Express.

A very beautiful cemetery.

A cemetery, not by the sea.

A north Bronx cemetery.

Dh yeah.

Meanwhile, Frederick Douglass,

Who was at the Seneca Falls 'Conference In 1848 (yeah oh lord)

Wonders what in the world

Is happening in Haiti.

Where is his grave?

Virginia Scott

19

THE GOOD IMPERIALIST POEM

you can't write a good poem on U.S. imperialism, anymore (the kind that roasts Kissinger & Nixon & Pentagon, say,

as running-dogs of the Wall Street big-business hydra)

that kind of poem has been aced off the world~.s stage by

the newer breed imperialism: like the Mideast oil sheiks, who wipe away tears with sleeves of their flowing robes all the way to the Swiss banks; and the stay-at-home commissars,

who wage 'socialist solidarity' brush wars allover the ~o-called third world with their troops and military hardware-the first labeled 'Sons of Carib,' the second 'Made in U.S.S.R.'; and mob-in-street policy makers of Iran, egged on by Ayatollahs

who strum holy harps and recite chorus on chorus of bristling polemic against Yankee 'blue devils' (Iran 20th Century ver-

sion of Crusaders Gulch); the fair (ever green!) land of Eire, where Provo boyos make the red blood run even as Orangemen

return the favor; the home-grown imperialism of torchers like

Pol Pot and Idi Amin (the equality. of the graveyard is the..i.Jr. poem)~ Basques, Baader-Minhoffs, FALNs, Red Brigades: those imaginary ravDlutionaries in real political gardens, who use bombs for hoe and boast they've reaped the people's harvest ... no, you can't write a good poem on U.S. imperialism

not while

all the world's mini-commissars

hog headlines

with Luddite violence

Sidney Bernard

20

ON SA VING AMERICA

public housing is to be built on the site of

an old landmark, a

house that had once belonged to the

wealthiest family in the county-the somervilles

john peter'somerville had been a rum merchant, his son traded: .Ln slaves

his grandson

speculated in futures and his great grandson

dwelt in the past

the last somerville was a congressman with a bad cough the house mysteriously caught fire the night

rep. somerville coughed his last

it'll be

middle-

income housing,

so it shouldn't be a total tragedy

0j_.

~ ,

.. .'

Donald Lev

21

FLOUNCING TOWARDS HAVANA

Carmen

Miranda in

Havana: a mov i.e , her dancing-

-outfits were constructed by a very great

engineer out on a toot. wash

cycle in a launderette, her

hips rotate colors which clash harmoniously.

Carmen Miranda in

Havana: a movie. free-floating

vivacity wilts the zoot-suits of the gigolos. Cesar Romero disappears behind potted palms, singed by the heat of this terrific orb. all of their

m.i nds. have .apparently become unhinged: at the slightest provocation, they burst into

melody: paeans to the coconutl?! and brown-eyed burros. pretty

soon, everyone is speaking in patois: the owner of the largest cabaret in town: the Fuller Brush man in from Pittsburgh,

on vacation.

this iron triviality cannot persist; the pace is maddening. one by one they drop from sight into the canefieldsi the khaki

uniforms they wear are restful to the eyes.

Kathryn Nocerlno

22

AilIL

I

I

rl~~====~==~~~~--~====~

MEMBER PRESSES

ABRAHAM MARINOFF BOOKS 400··ARGYLE·Rd.,··BROOKLYN·NY-11218 ALLEGHANY MOUNTAIN PRESS 111 W. 10 St., OLEAN NY 14760 AMERIc'AN ARTISTS IN EXHIBITION c/o Waterways Project.

799 GREENWICH Sto NY ~NY - 10014

BARD PRESS 799 GREENWICH se, NY NY1001.

BOSS BOOKS BOX 370. MADISON SqSTATlON, NY NY 10010 BOX 749 BOX 749, OUlCI-ELSEA STAl'ION,NY-NY10011

CONFRONT A TION ENGUSH DEPT., LONG ISlAND UNIVERSITY.

BROOKLYN, 1ft' 11201

CONTACT 'I BOX 451J1OWl..N3;.GREEN STATlON .. NY-NY .10004 CROSS CULTURAL COMMUNICATIONS 239 WYNSUM~VE.

t.ERRCK- NY- 11566- . -,

DOWNTOWN POETS COOP GPO,BOX l720; BROOKLYf\ NY 11202 GREENFIELD REVIEW PRESS sox so. GREENFElD 9ENTER NY 12833 HOME PLANET PUBLICATIONS BOX 41S;-SlUYVESANT STAJlQN,

NY NY-10009

W W NORTON 500 FFT1i AVE" NY NY 1()()36

NEW SCRIBES 1223't£WKfiK AVE.".BROOKL YN,. NY 11230

OUT & 'OUT .BOOKS ,476 SECOND Sl, BROOKLYN 'NY 11215 POETRY IN. PUBLIC PLAGES 799 GREENWICH St., NY NY 10014 .

QUEENS COUNCIL ON tHE ARTS 161-04 JAMAICA AVE.,

.JAMAICA,. NY 11432

RED DUST BOX 630, GRACIE STATION, NY NY 10029 SHAMAL BOOKS GPO BOX 1&, NY NY 10001

ST A TION . HILL PRESS STATION HILL Rd.. BARRYTOWN,

NY 12507 '

STRAWBERRY PRESS BOX 451, BOWLING GREEN STATION,

NY NY 10004

SUNBURY BOX 274, .EROME Ave.8TATION, BRONX. NY 10468 SWAMP PRESS 4 BUGBEE Rd., ONEONTA, NY 138?O

TELEPHONE BOOKS PRESS BOX 672, OLD CHELSEA STATION,

NY NY 10011

TEN PENNY PLAYERS 799 GREENWICH St., NY NY10014 . THE SMtTH 5 BEEKMAN St., NY NY 10038

13th MOON DRAWER F, INWOOD STATION, NY NY 10034

VIKING/PENGUIN 625 MADISON Ave."NY NY 10022

WA TERWA YS 799 GREENWICH se, NYNY 10014 - WARTHOG PR E S S 29 SOUTH VALlEY Rd",. WEST ORANGE,

NJ 07052

WHITE PINE PRESS 109 DUERSTEIN St." BUFFALO. NY 14210

The W ate r way s Pro j e. c tis ay ear - r 0 u n d s e r i e S 0 f Boo k F air s & Poe t r y Rea din g s . It is a coo p e ra t i v e effort of Publishers & Poets 1'0 -mainstream Poetry

, and to de vel op audiences for poetry an cd iiterature •.

Waterways is a program of Ten Penny Players. a

n ot-f 0 r-p r of it NY S c h artere.d educational & literary corporation.

ISSN 0197-4777

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful