DON’T BE LIKE THE SNAKE
WHO WANTED TO BE GOD
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:
–DOOR IN MY HEAD
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
TO GATHER BACK
(AND RED IS THE
© 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.
THROUGH THE DISTANCE SCREEN
Circumstances change cases
Love doesn’t die
Or gets forgotten
Gets temporarily replaced
Got used all up once or twice
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
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
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
“problematic”Friday, May 24, 2013 11:44 AM (continued)
From: “edward mycue” firstname.lastname@example.org To: email@example.com
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.)
(HEY! THERE ARE A LOT OF “PAUL’S” IN THIS STORY I SEE.)
© copyright Edward Mycue
RUTH TAYLOR AGNES DELEHANT 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
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.
WE 2* ARE HANGING-IN SINGING THESE MORNINGS TO THE MOON
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