Poetry: Edward Mycue, April, 2023



all so green and curvy inveigled 

that dim little couple Adam/ Eve   

starting that whole eons “road trip” progression: envy lust avarice murder   

:think the snake knew consequences? 

that snots stink in nostrils by chance?

true love has no blood in eyes; 

love lives, suffers from ignorance.

Rosie the Riveter sweating wartimes jobs worries how her kids learn. 

smarmy fart snake feels it don’t stink; 

callow couple-duo acts down the sink. 

© Copyright  Edward Mycue 


  — listening to Richard Steger–

& of course he’s a painter and the place is an art museum

entered through a little door the way Alice enters something

I think–or is it a hole, a small one & or/ equals the back of the wardrobe

in Lion Witch Wardrobe and

Like an implosion or inner exile that need 


of the negative sort the way the questioner says

                                                                              “it way dark that day, wasn’t it” and

the one being questioned says “No” 

and then begins to tell more about the event of the dream:


Orange ice on the roof we climbed

the big tree to the top a little house

Richard went in through the door down

into the rooms of the museum 

walking through all the rooms where

uniformed guards seem surprised

feeling apprehensive finally he left

back out up the way he came and got me

we returned together but were met

by guards talking on their walkie-talkies

don’t know how we escaped Richard said

but i kept thinking about that big tree

© Copyright  EDWARD MYCUE 
























© Copyright  Edward Mycue 7:17AM Saturday April 1, 2023  for Richard, no Fool 

‘A SEEING-EYE-DOG-NOSE’ *     and    a kid    in the country

A “seeing-eye-dog-nose”  artist Richard Steger’s saying springs comes from his growing from age six coming from Chicago in 1949 to Cotati, California to his mom Irene Steger’s dad John Perrou’s chicken ranch with his dog Mickey 

who protected him in the chicken yard with his friendly favorite goats, especially Nubbins and Blackie; raising the way done then 4-H style the steer (named for the favored 1940/ 50’s TV wrestler Pancho Pico); turkeys; the un-derappreciated ankle-pecking ill-remembered chickens. 

Sometimes, weekends, San Francisco Fairmont Hotel’s chef Isidore Bellone killed/ cooked Rohnert Seed Farm quail when with Great Aunt Antonia came up to what is now Sonoma State University, and city Rohnert Park: Santa Rosa, Rohnert Park, Cotati, Petaluma 20 mi. round.


*’A seeing-eye dog nose’ may be one of those concepts explained in a linguistic manner that rural children might grow-up with no particular sensory destination. 

© Copyright  Edward Mycue     2023      for Richard Steger now in his eightieth year


by Edward Mycue

All that noisy night the phoenix flamed

crackling embers into singeing song

scorching fog, fuchsia, western laurel tree

razing memories of my flower years,

smoke clouding what passes, these keys of flesh,

time the phoenix entered the sun dance

fragmenting, shattering, grinding-down

my tired half-dreams of a failed dream,

scooping from that mist of muffled bones

one frail and fragrant puff of finished fuse.

Fleeing, finding stars, sky, sirens screaming,

years turn, hope spins again into morning,

so what could never end might yet still come again.


Circumstances change cases

Love doesn’t die

Or gets forgotten

Gets temporarily replaced

Got used all up once or twice

Disappeared, faded

And as if in a race

Something else got ahead

When while after the race

Getting your breath 


After and gone so cold

And it was all just a moment

Really usurping ugly

Unpleasant traitorous

Scorching of a green thing

–the green thing, hope–

A sweet moment thing


Then you fall into a vacuum

Hope to rebuild your life

In your mind

You dream


Through all the rooms again


Through that cruel bright day

To that day 

When he comes and gets you 

Returning together to a gentle rose lake 

Your tapestry you both weave

© Copyright  Edward Mycue   

4 replies »

  1. “problematic”Friday, May 24, 2013 11:44 AM (continued)
    From: “edward mycue” mycueed@yahoo.com To: editor@amsterdamquarterly.nl
    SONG OF SAN FRANCISCO was in limbo for a long time and in development from 1987 on until it’s emergence 26 yrs later in 2012. In early days there were many poems and spread out to 100 pages and i got to view it as my ‘bridge’ in the sense of modeling it on hart crane’s swingline, going and walking over that bridge to brooklyn and feeling the human level of it.

    The times and my situation became grim, grimmer. Everything melted away while ten pieces more like hard bloodless stones remained by the mid-1990’s. But i kept looking and hoping for a return to fullness. I sent what i had to Paul Green at Spectacular Diseases Press in Peterborough, Cambs. England who in mid-90’s published my BECAUSE WE SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE. He offered to do it. He wanted a special cover (showing the usual San Francisco touristy highlights) from Richard Steger my lifePainterPartnerSpouse with whom i’d teamed on books and other publication areas since the early 1970’s. Richard never takes orders. And so that was the delay. In 2000 i sent the group of 10 to Paul Stangeland who published THE POETRY CONSPIRACY monthly calender with peoms in the San Diego area, and he put it in that. Meanwhile from time to time Paul Green and i continued to laxly correspond. Then around 2010 or 2011 with Paul Green hitting 69 and losing his job over there in the UK and getting ill, he wrote let’s do it. I wrote yes on a 1937 old vintage postcard of the san francisco bay with a sketch of what the east bay bridge was to look like and said YES. and let’s do it.

    he responded he wanted to use the card. i said it was some old thing from a used card bin with no source known. (i didn’t focus that it said in small print ‘san francisco queen city’ — funny that! and odd because it’s “cincinnati ohio” has always been called the ‘queen city’ — it’s where my mom lived in her teens).

    maybe the above could be #10. but i don’t think of this history as “problematic”. it just was a progress and pilgrimage in the sense of my life journey or is it more trajectory: it may never have been issued as a stand alone title. but i am happy it did.

    there have been 2 other books never published and plus a great pile of poems to be in an English anthology from the Shearsman Press in the 90’s (UK). There was a poet who was compiling it for them, Paul Buck. I heard from the publisher of Shearsman that project was just ended. But i never got my poems returned and this was at a time when things got so difficult for me and all i could do was just move on.

    i miss the shearsman project as much as the promised book from australia from paper castle mimeographs press (that had in 1979 published my longpoem 88 pages ROOT ROUTE RANGE THE SONG RETURNS there). I also miss the book publication from the now late Paul Foreman’s Thorpe Springs press in Austin,TX –SOMETHING INHERES IN THE MARIGOLD.)


    © copyright Edward Mycue



    Here is a poem from my mom written about oh I don’t know — about 1980 maybe– that I keep on a little stand in the form fine-lettered by the calligrapher Julia Herman commissioned by Jane Mycue in Santa Cruz. (Janey might recall when it was done.) Mom wrote under the name Ruth Taylor. Taylor is a family name from Erie, PA as her grandmother Beck (Rebecca McCrary) had married Robert Nicholas Taylor (called OREN from his initials and their common spoken sound from the “R.N.” that he used.) Those Taylors i am recalling were railroad men. Beck’s mom by the way was before she married her railroad man a Finn i’m recalling.  Anthony Ryan in Niagara Falls, Jane’s age, 70, now, and who is my aunt Jane Delehant Ryan’s 2nd son, has got all the information.
    Mom her mom’s first child had to stay in the hospital (St.Mary’s) for days after her mom went home and so the hospital filed the BIRTH certificate AS Ruth (the first name they knew) but put her middle name as her mom’s birth surname, ‘Taylor’.  And nowbody ever knew I guess because in that R.C. community mainly everyone went by the BAPSTISMceritiicate that was always used for any legal perpose there (even when mom and dad married).  It wasn’t revealed until mom and dad had to apply for a visa to go to Mexico City (dad had won best salesman nationwide of his company the Firestone subsidary ‘World Bestos” who made brake linings and clutch facings: this was in Dallas days early 1950’s were we’d moved in 1948). WHAT A SURPRISE MOM GOT and she was THRILLED, THRILLED at this. When she began to publish her poems and essays and stories and memories here an there (in the late 1970’s, mostly in senior citizen publications)(and I have some of them moldering away) (wonderful work, by the way) she used TAYLOR as her nom de plume/ writer’s name. (My mother was a beautiful woman who had the longest blackest hair and looked like the raging beauty Ava Gardner -sp ?– the actress: I was born when she was 22.)  Ed Mycue

    THE CLEAN & BEAUTIFUL “L” WORD                         (“I AM A LIBERAL”)
    Oh, I am a Liberal
    From the earliest recall
    Oh, I love that L word
    For me it tells it all:
     It stands for Love & Liberty
    For light, for Love or Labor,
     For Labor of Love
     It stands for Laughter
    Sweet song to my ears
    Sweet song of the Lark:
    Oh, I love the letter L
    I shall wear it proudly
    Emblazed bright upon my breast.
    Patrick Henry we salute you
    You said it all back then
    “Give me liberty or give me death”
    Oh, I love you letter L
    You stand for logic
    You stand for Liberation
    You stand for Love.
    The L word, it is Lovely
    It is Lively
    And it has a hopeful ring.

     © Ruth Taylor (Delehant Mycue) 1915-1997 NIAGARA FALLS, NY – PALO ALTO, CA


  3. In 1960 I came up for more graduate study from North Texas State in Denton to Boston University as a Lowell Fellow as an intern at WGBH-TV then the New England Television station on the M.I.T. campus in Cambridge just over the Charles River from Boston on Massachusetts Avenue above a former roller rind and as Louis Lyons’ assistant on his twoice weekly 14:28 minutes and seconds programs of news, profiles, special subjects.


    Since we have learned that not every time
    are beliefs of our own absolute convictions
    though I must say echoing Jackie Gleason’s 1950’s HONEYMOONERS 1950’S TV series utterances of “What a disgusting development” have come to now
    knowing now Richard with me’ll be safer, at home
    together, dealing groans each everyday ourselves.
    All we –he and I now too –desire is to have someone, maybe you, help us reorient to that we knew so well. 

    © Copyright Edward Mycue, May 30, 2023 Tuesday

    *Richard Steger & Edward Mycue, together since 1971’s memorial day weekend Sunday in San Francisco CA


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