Writings And Other Manifestations of My Mind

Walking along this swell avenue, breathing
The city’s old-world atmosphere
I connect Saturdays in town with the blue sky, trees and
Passersby
I envision my dream taking root here in the Torinese soil
And think what trifoliate leaves and blossoms will appear
In time
“Buon giorno, signore! Io non sono di Torino. 
Dov'e il Teatro Alfieri? E lontano da qui?”

Copyright © 2019 Trifoglio

May Billie’s deep songs and Bessie’s arias
course through your listening heart
that their sad-joy witness to turnings
in roads soothes your soul
 
May a chorus of San Francisco’s purple rock ’n rollers   
led by Sarah Vaughan sing O Happy Day! 
that such celebration of breath and voice
be a refuge during the unfolding of circles
 
Michael, I wish you acres of sensuous geography
 colors, forms, and lush vegetation more awesome
of sight than the captivation of a paradisiacal island
that such natural beauty stimulates recall
of disremembered moments 
and your youthful Arcadian dreams
 
Also, a pride of your favorite animals
to inspire you out of bed each day
and the company of a significant other
to accompany you during this transition  
Copyright © 2019 Trifoglio
 
(Michael Rice was a resident at Leland House.
He appreciated African American music and 
musicians, especially the great female singers)

Stiletto clacks on a concrete walkway
Stiletto clacks on a concrete walkway
Curves, orbs, elongated dimensions
the erotic imagery thereof
 
Was it like that, did not let you be?
Was it like that, did not let you be?
Such physicalizing of your dream
the involuntary swelling below?
 
We menfolk know well the feeling
We menfolk know well the feeling
Lust will creep up on us just so
and hijack our best laid plans   
 
Nature is everything at once, said Herr Goethe 
Nature is everything at once, said Herr Goethe 
It is the itness of our blended humanity
the instinctual urge of our gendered purpose 
 
Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat fell down into the gutter
Badly broken, lonesome-and-blue
You sang it in falsetto voice, you soared up high
You arrived there with your last note by and by
Copyright © 1999 Trifoglio

(Donald was a backup singer and resident of Leland House.)
 

Worry, worry, worry
   is all I seem to do
Bad luck done overrun me
   insecurity and depression too

Unemployed since February
   with no prospects in sight
My teeth are falling out
   and rent is due by tomorrow night

Worry, worry, worry
   is all I seem to do
Bad luck done overrun me
   insecurity and depression too
Copyright © 2008 Trifoglio

I wanted to soar 
but weathered he said not to—
how does he know best?

Grandma kept saying 
“Son, don’t yield to temptation” 
over and over   
Her faint scratchy voice  
spooky as the October wind 
blowing around dry cornstalks   
Her old woman smell 
of stinky asafetida 
thick in the closed room   

“Son, don’t yield to temptation” 

These were her last words 
then the death rattle   
In the aftermath 
of her dying, the advice
cautions my pleasure
Copyright © 2019 Trifoglio

Fifteen years ago, in the middle studio
on 59th Street
you looked into my eyes, teaching 
me the choreography
I looked into your eyes
and we co-created each other
Did you feel it?

Today, sweeping up pine needles
I wondered anew
©2022 by Trifoglio

Moving in sound
Unified in thought, action, purpose
Ambling among pines, the sweet gums
Oaks and poplar trees
Talking with gallberry bushes
And palmetto palms
The shrubs and herbs 
Each step taken
   going/gone
The self we show to others 
   going/gone
The self we show to family and friends
   going/gone
The self we show to no one
   going/gone
Our relationships
   going/gone
Our precious memories 
   going/gone
The ocean of our hearts
   going/gone
The throbbing of our arteries
   going/gone
The rhythm in the depth of our being
   going/gone
This feeling, this body, this mind,  
   going/gone
This magic moment
   going/gone
Only the mysterious source
   rhythmning 
Copyright ©2023 by Trifoglio