Homeless

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

1

Red woolen cap
with ragged pulls and tears.
smells of rain,
smeared with shit.

Matted hair, kinky, defying any comb,
smelling of mildew.
And occasionally drops,
in clandestine clumps.
And is never really missed

Her face is war torn wrinkles, mapping roads
from painful yesterdays to a numb today,
taking a reader deeper
than one would ever want to go.

Her eye-whites yellow,
crusted,
caking where sunshine strikes.

Amber crystals meet with
white crylstalline snot on upper lip
over a permanent grin
of missing teeth and pyorrhea.
A broken nose
from a first husband, not centered.
smells the stench though.


Her shoulders curled
for fear and wear,
covered by salvation
army sweaters and
coat that once covered
the shoulders of women that wore Este Lauder.

now smelling
like the privates festering beneath skirt
and pants.

Not washed for months.
Legs shake and warp
the diet takes its toll.
And is turning her bones
into memories.

She sits in the park
in front of the swings
watching the children play,
and imagines a time
when her father would push (push)
her, oh, so high.
His strong hands (hands)
Would catch her (catch her)
slim waist, and push again
(not again).

And in her mind,
the swing would fly back again, to earth,
and start a return to sky, catching her father's
head with the rusty edge,
driving deep into his brain, smashing hard,
letting out the countless years of pain.
They spiral out, then cascade,
pouring out like springtime rain,
(faeries dancinq in delight,
Catchinq bits of brain in buttercups,
offerinq all to those who thirst)
touching everything,
but covering nothing.



2

You get used to pain.
And happiness belongs to the beholder.

syphilis takes a nibble.
a brain cell here and there.
Destroying hope and wonderment
withdrawing things that care.

Synaptic functions,
once quick, once true,
now kindly ignore
any darkened view.

Inurement to Reality gives joy.



3

Corn, corn, cornucopious
dumpsters on the street
wafting scents of pizza and roast
wet dreams of fresh cooked meat.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

1. One little kick... I'm proud of this one.

[NanceGreggs]

2. And a second kick ...

... because you have reason to be proud.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

4. Thanks, Nance!

[The Straight Story]

3. Kick for some good work! (nt)

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

10. Thanks, The Straight Story!

God, Bob would have been easier to type.

[Robbien]

5. You should be proud Tom because it is very good

and kinda scary

but for the grace of god . . .

[ornotna]

6. Kick.

I enjoy your poems, thanks.

[Just Me]

7. Tom, this observation of an American life,....

,...should be accompanied by a picture.

I've seen it with my own eyes. You describe it, perfectly.

I remember, sitting in a park in the Seattle area, some years ago, picknicking with my son and step-daughter and step-aunt. A man, very much akin to the description in your poem, approached our little space and asked if we had any food (not money) to spare. I gave him everything edible.

He was,...gracious.

The step-aunt,...wasn't.

*shaking head*

Excellent poetry of pieces of American life hidden from public view.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

8. This was the personification of a lot of people on the streets of Atlanta.

But unfortunately, it's an American tragedy.

[pinto]

9. Thanks. I really like that. Here's one, along the same line.

She looks stoic.

Shopping cart, three coats and a cap stoic,
On a summer afternoon full of movement
Along the street she calls her afternoon.

Nights, she sleeps on short side streets,
Or so my friend tells me.

Walking the dog they meet regularly.

She looks stoic.

Bench sleeping, or door front secure
On cool summer nights in silence
And self contained solitude,
She sleeps and I imagine her there.

That's what my friend tells me.

Most days, we see her on the street,
my friend and I.
She's a local regular.

Paydays, I see her in the bank.
They call her by name,
As she takes care of business.
We nod.

She says little.

Her new cart has shelves and a small cooler.
I notice that and plan to tell my friend.

She looks stoic.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

11. Damnit, Pinto! Is that yours?

Powerful and concise. I love it.

[pinto]

12. Thanks.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

13. Seriously, you should try submitting that to some of the Literary rags

out there. It's very professional and effective.

[YOY]

14. Wow!

Moving. Very.