Poems by J.R. Solonche

LINDA'S OFFICE SUPPLY

I was in Linda's Office Supply.
She was laminating a poem for me.
Never mind why.
That's another story.

A woman came in.
She wanted to buy a scent-free candle.
Linda showed the woman a scent-free candle.
The woman wanted to buy matches.

Linda didn't have matches.
Neither did I.
Linda gave me my laminated poem.
I paid and left.

I was wrong.
It's the same story, not another story.
Linda made nine copies of "Beer Ghazal."
I leave them in the bars I go to with Jim on Saturdays.

I'll be going back to Linda's Office supply for more.
The lamination protects them from beer spills as well as tear spills.
Poems must be beer-proof.
Poems must be tear-proof, especially, especially.

I don't know why the woman needed a scent-free candle and matches.
It must have been important whatever it was.
It is the only story we know.
It is the story that involves tears.

O blessings upon you.
O blessings upon whatever it was.
O blessings upon blessings upon blessings upon you.
O Woman with Scent-free Candle Burning, Burning that No Tears May Extinguish!

 

CUTTY SARK

The jazz musician in the movie drank Cutty Sark.
I'm a sucker for jazz music.
I'm a sucker for movies about jazz musicians.
Weel done, Cutty-sark!
And in an instant all was dark.

I'm a sucker for jazz musicians who drink Scotch.
This one drank a bottle every night.
I'm a sucker for a jazz musician who does that and still makes music.
Weel done, Cutty Sark!
And in an instant all was dark.

I wanted to see if I could drink and still make poems.
I found out that I could not.
I found out that I could not drink and still make poems.
Weel done, Cutty-sark!
And in an instant all was dark.

I found out that I wasn't cut out to be maker of poems.
It has taken my whole life.
It has taken my whole life to find out I'm not cut out to make poems.
Weel done, Cutty-sark!
And in an instant all was dark.

But it's not too late.
It's not too late to learn to make a poem.
There is still time, still time, still time.
Weel done, Cutty-sark!
And in an instant all was dark.

There is still time, still time, still time.
There is yet time to make a poem, to make but one.
There is still time to be a poet once for all who makes a perfect rhyme.
Weel done, Cutty-sark!
And in an instant all was dark.

 

CHEAP RED WINE

1.
One glass of cheap red wine
under a full moon
is equal to two under none.

2.
This cheap red wine is dark
as the cheap red wine-dark sea all right,
but shallow as the cheap red wine-dark rain puddle.

3.
Cheap wine. Once more fill my
glass?  But will I be able
to finish this hai

 

THE PRACTICE

A roof. Another. And another. And trees
like hedges beyond them. But the trees
have no roofs, always open to the weather
of the world, the sky's color. In my office,
I open The Practice of Poetry. I decide 
I need more practice. I close the book,
open the window, put my head out as far as
I can."I need practice," I almost say out loud
to the trees that don't need it, to the sky that
doesn't need it, to the grass that doesn't need it,
to the students passing below who wouldn't
know what the hell I was talking about anyway.
Why doesn't  it come as easily, as naturally as
getting leaves? As losing leaves? It's cold. I close
the window. I open the window. I close the window.