The Poetry Of..
Joseph Lisowski................................................
LOOKIN' BACK AT SODOM
"Don't ask," Kazu says,
"I got sins you don't wanna
know about. You too,
but they ain't visitin' you
yet. Believe me!" He grabs me
by the shirt. His hand shakin',
sendin' out thousands of volts,
sparks flyin' everywhere.
His eyes is like fireworks,
the grand finale. He's bustin'
brain cells, corpusles,
fracturin' synapses, I
just know it. All I'm hearin'
is booms. His gums is workin',
spittle flyin'. "What! What!
What the hell you sayin'!
I think I ask.
He lets go an' I almost collapse.
He turns, blows his nose, an'
limps down 45th street
to the abandoned, crucible steel mill.
I'm wozzy,
hug the telly pole for balance.
My eyes ain't right.
I see him divide, divide again.
Twenty Kazus goin' ina busted door.
Forty Kazus climbin' the rusted crane.
SUMMER SERENADE
My baby girl is sunlight.
I'm seein' her now. Wow,
what is it? Thirty years?
She's crawlin' ona polished hardwood floor,
dust swirlin' blue, green, an' red
in streaks from the window,
touchin' her wide smile.
She's sendin' out these rays
so's the wood gleams,
the mirror sparkles,
the trees outside wave,
the grass serenades,
dinner smells delicious,
an' even I look good.
In her eyes.
AT THE DAIRY QUEEN
This bum's sittin' ona sidewalk,
snot runnin' down his face, lookin'
like some kinda pistachio delight
or a lemon-lime squeeze.
Right, like now I'm in the mood
for a double soft dip.
The line ain't that long
but some are complainin'
so I turn away
an' take a booth near a window
which ain't got too many flies.
Outside, the manager's shoutin'
at the guy, not getting' too close.
The guy's tryin' to get up,
but keeps slippin' ona cone
someone smashed at his feet.
The front of his pants is all wet,
an' he got no laces in his shoes,
no socks, big sores ona his ankles.
The manager comes back in.
"You shoulda called the cops," a customer says.
"Call the dog pound," another yells.
"He's leavin'," the manager says with a look
like why is this happenin' on my shift.
"Disgusting!" another pipes in.
"Lock them sumbitches up
an' throw away the key!"
A regular, little communion group
along the rail waitin' to get served.
The bum's staggerin' down the street now,
just before these good citizens get ready
to shout, "crucify him! Crucify him!"
* 'Stashu' is an amalgam of voices from the Lawrenceville neighborhood in Pittsburgh where Joseph grew up in the midst of up-unemployed steel workers, disenfranchised immigrants, often chronic drunks,- who, in spite of it all, had not totally given up hope. These poems are from Joseph Lisowski's unpublished full-length collection, "STASHU KAPINSKI DREAMS OF GLORY".
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