Not Memorized

but still remembered (a collection of poetry)

Gregory Zeorlin

Published 2013 by Gregory Zeorlin and ZeorlinArt.com Tyler, TX USA

Copyright 2013 Gregory Zeorlin All rights reserved.

Version 1.1, Nov. 2013

If you are interested in discussing ideas for a poetry/art presentation, workshop, residency or visiting artist project

for your community or school please contact Gregory Zeorlin. info@zeorlinart.com

Book design and art: Gregory Zeorlin Font Style: Perpetua

Cover image: “Missives 3+4” (Josef Albers’ Fire and Water). 2012 Mixed media painting on paper. 24” x 30”

To Anne, Claire and Miles and the ways you influence my

poetry and art.

Introduction If you are reading this sentence it means my pdf document (my book) successfully downloaded into an electronic device. Now the poems and art can be read in all sorts of places. Even so, I was reluctant to make this digital book. I like flipping pages and carrying a dog eared book. But it is costly to print and distribute a paper book. I assume the convenience of downloading this digital book will trump my Luddite tendencies. So make sure and use the hyper-links in this pdf document to access other information, additional images, video, etc. (Internet access is needed whenever hyper-links are used). About the Author I am a visual artist and poet. I create mixed media paintings, sculptures and write poetry. You can see examples of my visual art at ZeorlinArt.com. I write poetry because the experience is similar to the way I make sketches for my art. I write and sketch to save ideas. I have written poetry since 1977. I never planned to write poetry and started after attending informal gatherings where others read their poems. The initial attraction to those gatherings could have been the Scotch and beer. After attending several gatherings I started imagining my own poems. I started writing poetry once I equated it with the intention of sketching. Over the years my poetry has examined situations and routines of daily life. There is not a lot of external drama or catchy lines in these poems. My poetry is not the kind you memorize. But I’m told they are remembered by readers as they reexamine the stuff in their own lives. The poems become another point of view. I’ve also written “Going Somewhere” and “Around That House” which are available in print. About the Date and Time of a Poem You will notice the poems in this book are dated and most include the time they were written. I record the time because many of my poems are written in under 10 minutes. I do not spend much time editing the initial composition. I write poetry this way because I see each as a sketch. It is a matter of stopping to put words on paper or type them at a computer because my poems are usually lined up as thoughts ready to go.

Contents Poetry In Transit 6 If Billy Were My Neighbor 7 Natural Conclusion 8 Vanishing Point 9 Calling Again 10 Odd Shaped Room 11 Encore 12 Glide 13 Repellent 14 Cash Money 15 Just Before 16 Ringing 17 December Trees 18 Smoked Sausage Recall 19 Loved the Rains 20 410 Grams 21 Like Planting 22 Clean Restrooms 23 Spirits in My Bones 24 Average Day 25 Word Art Social Commentary Art Project 26

In Transit A bus pauses opening double doors for travelers lined up their views into or through the windows doesn’t matter It’s an empty bus or standing room only too hot too cold scented with bodies from young to old no matter how many there’s room This bus keeps moving some read while waiting, a few nap many palm gaze into electronic screens we pretend to know where we’re going though no one recognizes the driver. 1/3/2013 8:15am

“Transit” 2012. Digital photograph

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If Billy Was My Neighbor It is odd to read about Billy Collins and how he writes his wondrous poems. When I didn’t know of him I wrote poems which could have seemed I wished to be just like him if I had known him. Except I have no formal English literary background I don’t read Shakespeare I cannot quote works by other poets. But Collin’s poetry arrived in my mailbox hand delivered from a neighbor who likes my poems. So hello Billy! If we were next door neighbors would we be social or would I secretly wish to be famous like you? Would poetry become our horseshoe pit? You always making a ringer as I search for my shoe lost somewhere in my yard lush with grass you envy? 3/22/2011 9:36am

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Natural Conclusion At some moment we are untethered lingering habits yield temporary comforts nothing will keep us from going, going, gone. Procrastination abrades our skin until one scratch finally scars we can no longer pretend to be impenetrable. We are tough until we wear thin decline is a natural freedom the release from gravity presents such a confounding message. Signs are posted and ignored we imagine tomorrow and miss today until one-by-one we are going, going, gone. 2/16/2012 10:45am

“Scatter.” 2012. Mixed media painting on paper.

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Vanishing Point Go in migration drive for miles or fly first then land move towards some high point where we feel we need to be. All this effort to pause and gaze in silence looking until we don’t see anything. Back home in constant motion we can’t remember what we sought to see eventually, we climb again to gaze beyond the vanishing point. 7/22/2012 6:49pm

“Eventually.” 2012. Mixed media on paper.

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Calling Again I thought the habit was broken a Saturday morning token, my calling you before the day raced. For less than a second your number comes to mind except you stopped answering nearly two springs ago. No words are spoken l only recall thoughts the sound of your voice gone like your body. We will never talk again not on Saturdays or any other day although the phone rings up graced memories. 12/18/2012 9:50am

“Up Links” 2012. Mixed media on paper.

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Odd Shaped Room In an odd shaped room opaque windows go suddenly clear, then fogging before I see through. Memory seeps inside windows painted shut hints still finding me as I inhale the living. This room has doors, too locked when I want in opened as I seek to be alone. Acrid smoke lingering from a burned home or sweet incense of prayer, are you in there? This odd shaped room, it’s hard to say how many of us are waiting inside here. 11/10/11 ( 4:13pm + 7:41pm)

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Encore We sang songs long forgotten or assumed to be but our collected minds brought up the deep notes of old friendships We pulled up tempos memories of the past though we don’t seek to return just to remember the songs we sing now This unplanned choir of middle-aged men carry the rarest notes of happiness and laughter when we convene We learned to sing for our future wives to sing for younger friends and older ones too. We sing for all who are the blessings in our lives. None of us knew we practiced long ago to do this encore. 7/10/2012

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Glide She circles the block, without haste rounding several times on early evenings Gliding by the same places paddling gracefully with time Her bicycle coasts a gentle hill the light breeze, pleasing She gazes blissfully on a neighborhood road that eventually becomes less known On each passing she confirms there are reasons not to hurry. 6/15/2012 8:11am

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Repellent You know someone who’s getting old faster than you. Someone old never thinks like you and you know you’ll never act as old as he or she no you just couldn’t be. It’ll never happen it’s easy to see they didn’t know how age comes on though yesterday they were young like you and me. Except we take old age head on gray thinning hair and sagging skin doesn’t have to fall as fast as it did from them. And who do you think you are drifting around our lives like wasps living under the eaves that we quickly pass to avoid the sting until one day you drop down and old age confronts so we spray and shake the can again spraying until old age goes into convolutions. Now those wasps fall from homes of paper and spit bodies silently flailing but you’d scream if you could you would scream for seconds as we watch you die knowing old age has been voided from our lives your flightless bodies the unimaginable pain contracting legs out of control until the brain stops dead still. We’ve seen others fall and many of us know our death comes in a similar way although the spray kills more slowly under the eaves of a nursing home. 6/29-7/3/2012

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Cash Money At a Native American Indian casino stoic faces stare at slot machines smoke blowing from nostrils fingers pushing buttons eyes glazing as spinning icons promise variable rewards. Noise encompasses the mind a constant drone cancels thoughts except for winning and beating long odds in a complex void of time. Inside this windowless cathedral we are crowded but still alone a gambler’s hope is brightest here where distorted light beams project promises of cars, clothes and cash. Long lines crawl to ATM machines where people pull cash from paychecks or home equity sure of winning this time stay long enough and take home plenty. Lab mice are better fed by scientists seeking knowledge even worker bees toil for honey as casino creatures starve themselves by salivating for money. 2/20/12 12:37pm

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Just Before Just before we go to sleep, a quick kiss. Your lingering smile following our two heads settling into down pillows while love goes deep into my memories of you. 7/23/12 11pm

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Ringing If you hear a bell a tolling its ring a sounding true gratefully pause to listen cause it does not ring just for you. And over the years amassing more friends will pass away but if you hear the bell a ringing you have another blessing on this day. So now the sounds do carry our dreams of yesteryear and while these fleeting thoughts prove merry I wish all of you were here. 12/31/2010 12:10am

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December Trees The barren trees of December expose nests of thoughts I will not remember in the Spring, Summer or Fall My still tree where a dream awaits to fly from tips of branches blending into the gray sky And these wings take us somewhere new to an evergreen tree with a perch for two. 12/17/2010 11:37am

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Smoked Sausage Recall A gray man in the waiting room sits in a chair his waist roped by a long wide belt his trouser button approaches the popping point under high internal pressure Bloated jowls flap as he bellows into a cell phone annoyed glances shoot his way from silent patients in the room his heavy cigarette voice oblivious of how it intrudes his lower lip sags from years of sweet brown leaf stuck in the gums Once summonsed by the nurse a struggle ensues his stuffed body lifts slowly off an upholstered chair before disappearing behind the processing door his voice lingering like smoke as the gate closes Somewhere back there a persistent doctor examines and prods similar to a USDA Certified Meat Inspector preparing to recall a case of smoked pork sausage. 1/31/2011 10am

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Loved The Rains The outer edges are less defined crabgrass starts to hide a three month seam soil compacts slowly as my pain settles inside a rectangle Wild flowers will not root in freshly turned soil it takes time for seeds to drift and find their place At some point tender shoots will but peek carefully above the soil protecting unhardened leaves Bright exposure still just parches so I return slowly to water roots leading back to you For a moment, everyday I recall how you loved the rains that make us grow. 6/9/11 3:40pm

“Pink Stake.”

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410 Grams After waiting three months to know the report confirms she, “Died as a result of undetermined cause.” But the autopsy let me know the weight of her heart placed carefully on a scientific scale. The 410 gram heart was much lighter than mine, so heavy with losing her. Her heart has become weightless no more strains from the world, and knowing this has lightened mine. Her free heart beats inside me night and day, as a prayer. 6/11/2011 12:24am

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Like Planting I lay a handful of black soil on his grave brushed my hands on my dress pants and walked away hopeful something would grow out of darkness. 6/26/2011 7:34pm

“Small Plot” 2012. Mixed media sculpture

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Clean Restrooms We rush about eating or looking to eat more our salivary glands squirting spit aiding masticated foods sliding into our stomach for digestion our guts processing until we spew and flush sometimes flushing, twice… This poem smells not so nice a depiction of our end how again and again we hope for unceasing eating gnawing on whatever we are sold while septic tanks are pumped just in time for those in buffet lines searching for everlasting food. Our sensitive tissues discern single ply is much too crude and quilted toilet paper affirms our preferential wipe of luxury as we seek clean restrooms replete with auto dispensing anti-bacterial scented soap to protect us in the mystical flow of life. 7/13/2011 2:54pm

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Spirits in My Bones We are minor deviations of the human form functioning at varying capacities before breaking down The skin decays muscles contract and shrivel body liquids evaporate the last remains are bone But before we reduce to buried or burned bones our lungs fill with a spirit of eternal memory Traces of all dwell beyond the grave continuing through generations of living breathing spirits I carry on I carry your memories knowing at some time someone will carry bits of mine And to you a future spirit carrier who will never meet me, I thank you now and forever. 7/5/2011 8:47am + 10:31pm

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Average Day Today is like most… Get in line. Any line. Just pick one. Now want what you are told. You don’t want something? “Tracking Error Has Occurred” “Remain In Line” Eventually you’ll want what we all want. And you will feel right. Because the average person feels normal waiting in lines wanting the same things that keeps us in line and average like this day. Be average. Bye. 7/24/2013 12:11am

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Social Commentary Art Project! (Bumper stickers that are third-cousins to haiku poetry) This poetry book ends with images of bumper stickers and a plug for this book. Is this an odd finish? Not really. That’s life…an evolving mix of chaos, order, mystery and logic. Reading this book was free. If it was a good read and you want to contribute a few dollars to this project, please do. I know not everyone can pay. If you can pay a few dollars for the book click here for the options. Your money goes to future poetry book projects and art materials. Thanks! Now look at these bumper stickers. You can use them like unusual note cards. Write on the back of a bumper sticker and mail it in the envelope included with the order. They don’t have to stick anywhere to be appreciated. They are weatherproof and last. My bumper stickers have been on autos for over 3 years. Click images for larger views. (Do not worry…clicking never completes an order).

See more bumper sticker art at StickyPhilosopher.com I also blog as the Sticky Philosopher and invite you to read it.

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