1/2

1

The door is open

Candle in the darkest night

Seems brighter than day

/

2

Let in the fresh air

Love as light as a feather

Smells like fresh cut grass

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski

April 29, 2010

DO YOU SKY DIVE?

Do you sky-dive?
I take your words,
Eat them, or spit them out,
Rub them between my thighs,
I wear them for a hat,
Use them for laundry soap.
So useful.beyond words.
I take your words.
Do you sky-dive?

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 29, 2010

SAPPHIRE IN THE ROUGH

Tumble with me
Oh, sapphire in the rough
Rotating with the earth
We'll polish each other so every facet shines
Brilliant as never before
Light years in the making
Oh, sapphire in the rough
Tumble with me

HALLELUJAH

Shout Hallelujah to the winds!
Only you and I can comprehend the depth of the word, my friend.
Carrying me through transformation,
Cold, and drenched to the bone, you keep the flame alive.
Wondrous things abound, as I too, carry you
To where the spirit is free and there is no weight.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 26, 2010

HIS OPENING GLISSANDO

the Rhapsody
his opening glissando
penetrating 10,000 times
transformation of space
between the lines
between the notes
between the sheets
transformation of space
penetrating 10,000 times
his opening glissando
the Rhapsody

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 21, 2010

OMNIPOTENT RESTS

Tis only they that can be
present before the melody starts,
Tis only they that can be
felt after the melody ends.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
rev. April 21, 2010

THE CLOSETED FACTS OF A PANTS SALESMAN

Nothing is ever as it seams.
He's been needled too many times.
He'll cuff anyone. .
Give him a hook, he'll give you the eye.
You'll likely get a rise, asking for your size.

The pants salesman.
Riveted, he belts out melodies in style, looped as usual, wasted.
What dreams are in store?
Regular, tall or short tails?
Falling asleep with Polly and Esther.
Testing his zipper, in high rise style?

He creases his brow with the happiness of a permanent press announcement.
Panting, the seam man.
Soil-resistant, indeed.
Wrinkle-free, for sure.
Only he knows the facts in the closet.
Only we can fashion what they are.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 14, 2009

HUMOR

"I believe one's humor is dependent on one's humor, on which one's life is dependent, of course." ~j.b.c. 4/17/10

TWO LEFT FEET

The dance of life
cha-cha, meringue,
waltz, lambada
fox-trot, lindy
create to suit your rhythm
But until the ego leaves the dance floor, we have two left feet.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 16, 2010

ENCHANTED

Pass through your world.
A pause.
You, there, reading.
I, here, sharpening the pencil.
As you read, we are in the same place:
Enchanted, for but a brief moment.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 15, 2010

RECALCITRANT WORD

A recalcitrant word,
a chameleon in response to thought,
virgin or whore?

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 5, 2010

PERIPHERY

The periphery. A place where words are symbols without meaning.
The words are invisible, and left unspoken here,
Where space and light and music is the respite from the crowded darkness of life.
This is the place where you dwell!

The periphery. Whether I am aware of your presence or not,
or you aware of mine, you are always there.
Grandiose attention is not necessary.
It is truly a sparkle of light that catches the eye best.
You are the firefly in the dark!

The periphery. Where space is the breathing room.
It defines what is comfortable. Without it we suffocate, left in free fall, alone to traverse a crowded darkness that preserves anonymity
by making everyone homogeneous.
You are a breath of air!

The periphery. Where a sensuous melody is color.
An aria glistens through the silence, fades and dissipates.
Like a mist we can’t hold on to, but see all around.
You are the music in the silence!

The music in the silence.The breath of air. The firefly in the dark.
Sometimes I see hear you, feel you, see you, and sometimes I don’t.
The periphery. This is the place where you dwell!

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 1/06/09

CADENZA

"When one is at the cadenza it is not the place to mince words, as the rest of the concerto and finale will come soon enough, and without regard".

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 13, 2010

SEED

The seed you planted my friend, effortlessly tended.
Roots of laughter, deep, strong, unseen.
As ground breaks, even more amusement.
Weed, or the beauty sprouting may choke.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 12, 2010

LIZBET

For little more than a girl I have traveled the unaware.
The kitchen, cold.
Blue smoke haze.
Hash oil anointing a hand-rolled cigarette.
Norman smiles broadly and gestures,
still at the same table where we met hours earlier.
I decline his offer.
Had we a common language, the silence would be awkward.
As would my nakedness, had it not been overcome by thirst.

For little more than a girl, I have traveled the unaware.
Slipping graciously to the warmth of Lizbet.
Early May, my land cloaked in flowers.
Road north, opened wide with longing.
To a land, still white with late snows.
Only my motorcycle, only it, armored against biting winds.
Quietly, ice floes retreat on the St. Lawrence.
Slipping graciously to the warmth of the Bay.

Deep fog horns penetrate the quiet, Bay of Gaspe, still dark..
In their wake, rise her body, rise hillsides breathing.
Forms indistinguishable.
A narcissus ready to open,
she offered herself until petals began to fall away.
The smell of her skin with mine, becoming indistinguishable.
Passion greater than senses mixed into languid sounds of early morning.

For little more than a girl, I have traveled the unaware.
Lulled by the late sunrise,
Once more, to slip graciously into her warmth.
She whispers gently, strongly accented "Finish your job".
Road weary, frostbitten, sleepless, yet, her taste entices me.
Smooth dark hair pressed against my face.
Finally she lets me drift away, gratefully.

Rising, she lights a fire for Norman.
Lizbet, satisfied, became our common language.
The silence was understanding.
Their day began.
I sleep, lulled by the late sunrise.
Passion greater than senses mixed into languid sounds of early morning.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 15, 2009

DARK WATERS

Swam the enigmatic distance.
Arrived on the other shore.
Left timidity of body and soul treading the dark waters.
Drowning.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 23, 2009

NO LONGER TREAD WATER

Mind, swimming.
Thoughts, currents.
You flow.
I float.
You, reason I no longer tread water.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 29, 2009

COLD RAIN

Read my mind.
Quite a sight.
Right there on Main St.
Walking naked in the cold rain.
Body, impervious, joyful.
Is it possible you've seen me, my friend?

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 2, 2009

STAND

I know how I stand with you.
So very unlike the way I stood before.
Thought I always understood before.
Now through you, my understanding grows.
I no longer stand still.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 24, 2009

BOING

You entered, .
Icing on the cake.
Positive energy given off, coming back, abundantly, boomerang style
Boing.

Intuitively searching for strengths, we strengthen.
To hell with flaws and weaknesses that serve the opposite.
Trust, teach, learn, rapt in wild expectation.
Boing.

We are.
Icing on the cake.
Positive energy given off,coming back,abundantly,boomerang style.
Boing.

ROOT

Sometimes you sow the weeds of ego.
Reminders to tend the earth.
You, yes, you the wind, you know who you are.
Up-root.

Words, scattered seeds on the wind.
Wilderness, nothing stationary.
You, you know who you are.
You, wind, you blew my words to wilder-ness.
There, they have taken root.

ON MY PLANE

Go wherever you choose.
On my plane of existence.
Wiggle, jump, whirl, breath, sing, dance freely, take off.
In rapture, I watch your movements on the runway.
Sometimes you land, sometimes you don't.
Anywhere the ground is in relation to you, I am satified.
Know, my dearest, there will always enough be love for us both.
Whenever you fly with me.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 15, 2009

BLOOD FLOW

Sardonic damnation, scathing condemnation.
Blood flow to Vampiress of words.
Propitiation, cauterization.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 27, 2009

MUSIC OF MY LIFE

You, my comfort, as much as my challenge.
As much as I want to be close to you, I want to be far from you.
As much as I feel I know you, I feel I don't know you.
You, grounded, as much as in outerspace.
You, music of my life.
You, on my mind as much as out of my mind.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 10, 2009

FAIRY EXTRAORDINARY

Fairy extraordinary.
Not to worry, I don't dare capture you.
It would ruin the magic spell.
Ooooh, just sprinkle my being with your fairy dust!
Fairy extraordinary, indeed!

JoAnn Chmielowski
January 16, 2009

NEWSPAPER, UNREAD

Twilight melancholia swirls in a wine glass, settlling comfortably into night's weariness.
Dawn too early to be noticed, still waits for day heralded by a newspaper, unread.

JoAnn Bertone
January 27, 2010

HOLD ONTO NOTHING

I.

Fly.

Above.

Grinning.

Gravity, lost.

Hold onto nothing.

Gravity, lost.

Grinning.

Above.

Fly.

I.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski

February 24, 2010

TIME FLASHES

Time flashes us, like a naked runner going by...swiftly, deftly.
It passes before we even realize what the hell it was we saw.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 21, 2010

EXPATRIATES OF MY MIND

Create words, then fondle them.
Bend them around, then dance with them.
Make love to them, then pick your nose with them.
Extirpate terms coined before they are thought,
Expatriates of my mind, spent, now under your reign.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 27, 2010

PERMEABLE

I have discovered that the worlds of poetry and music
are separated only by a permeable membrane.
And that each aspires to be like the other.
So much very like the love you express
with your written words
is the love you hear
between a cello
and
a
clarinet.

UNDERBELLY

Music.
A state of constant desire
To touch the softest skin
Where it is the most vulnerable
Where it is the thinnest.
It runs its hands over us searching.

We freely allow it access to the underbelly.
We let nothing else touch us as deeply.
Nothing.
We have become capable of satisfying its desire fully.
And it, ours.
In total trust we let it stroke the underbelly.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 7, 2009

AWASH

Freestyle, my writing swims to you.
Violently dragged by your undertow.
Against your crashing waves.
It arrives on your shore, mouth full of salt.
Lungs bursting.
Its body, battered by your currents.
Its skin feels the abrasiveness of your sands.
At last, awash, it is so very alive.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 22, 2009

DEEP SEA FISHIN'

If ya phone ain't ringin', ya can be sure it's me callin'.
Don't even think of takin' it off the hook.
It ain't that easy.
And ya ain't off the hook either baby.
You, who is always floppin' 'round, a marlin in my thoughts.
Deep sea fishin', no land in sight, yep, that's me alright.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 8, 2009

HANDS

So very learned, only touching what won't hurt or burn.
Willing or unwilling, I am in your hands as you are in mine.
Very cautious are these channels of the mind.

Used, abused.
Chafed, scarred.
Delicate, sensual, erotic.
Drawn, withdrawn, neurotic.
Open, vulnerable, reaching, closed, entwined.
Very cautious are these channels of the mind.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 12, 2009

BRAIN SCAN

Dreams, conglomerates of people, places, experiences.
Each residing in different areas of the mind.
My imagination, very much like dreams.
You, the doctor, are reading my brain scan.


JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 21, 2009

COLLATERAL TO SWEETNESS

Don't hold me back.
The tighter your grasp, the more resistance I need to use.
Let me go and you will still find me there, close beside you.
The only difference will be I now can breathe.

Colors are changing, but am I not the same being underneath?
Ripening fruit, in development, not mood.
Grant me impunity, it is collateral to sweetness.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 6, 2010

LITTLE MORE

Love you for little more than exactly who you are.
A deliverance of mind and spirit.
With no other intent.
This is real.
This is magic.
We stand in relation to both.
The little more is present in the song you put forth.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 9, 2009

DARK WATERS

Swam the enigmatic distance.
Arrived on the other shore.
Left timidity of body and soul treading the dark waters.
Drowning.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 23, 2009

THREADS

We weave and unweave with words the threads that muse.
Our naked skin cloaked in velvet, silk, burlap, crinoline, lace or polyester micro-fiber.
We fabricate.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 21, 2009

EFFERVESCENCE

Alternate self meets "real" self in a sensuous embrace.
My lfelong fear of explosion, diminished to effervescence.
Bubbles rise up, surrounding things that are heavy.
Carrying them upward like feathers.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 30, 2009

THE LIFE SENTENCE

No judge, nor jury.
No innocence, nor guilt.
No victim, nor perpetrator
No racketeering, nor embezzlement
The life sentence is the same for us all.
Love.
That's the life sentence.
I exhort you, commit the crime!
Or it will be the death sentence.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 12, 2009

COLD

Even after you were gone, you continued to give me warmth.
Finally, I too am cold.
Awake and shivering in the night
Waiting for spring.
Knowing full well that it will take time.
The glare of morning sun, my reminder it is still winter.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
January 22, 2010

INTEREST

In some exquisite way,
My emotional bank account grows.
You, interest.
Love, compounds.
Keep the change.
Make life rich.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
January 14, 2009

PARACHUTE

Your parachute of love has deployed.
Safe to fall ever so gently, fall ever so gently, fall ever so gently, eyes closed.

Your parachute of love has deployed.
On the updraft, you drift, drift, drift to some exotic place, eyes closed.

Upon landing, eyes open.
Something beautiful beyond expectations awaits.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 15, 2009

DRAGGED UP

Writing reflects.
In its mirror of reality or dreams, we evolve.
Often dragged up by our roots,
we are thus captured in its forum of unusual explorations.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 23, 2010

WE TOOK THE LINOLEUM WITH US

The old Jew opened the door throwing down yet another great pile of tied-together Rogers-Peet men's black winter coats that would take up our whole kitchen floor. Mamma was lucky to get piece work that, having already been basted, would be finished all by hand, except for the side seams, of course. Those, she would stitch last on the Singer. Mamma, an expert on finish work, would always, always start with the velvety felt on the underside of the collars. She would continue with the front body linings and end with the sleeve linings. Then she would quickly sew up the side seams on the machine, Fascinated by the pedal, I would help her move the treadle by putting my foot on top of hers.Then came my turn to work for by myself. She showed me how to remove the basting work with the ivory rippers. Mamma rarely had to double check my work and did not need to at all by the time I was able start second grade. She continued to work when I was in school and couldn't help her, only taking off two days when my sister was born. Pappa took any work he could get. Once in a while some men would come down the street and call him about some paving work in the Holland Tunnel, which they were almost finished building.Pappa said something about it going far under the river somewhere and he would one day take me there. It sounded scary. One Tuesday, after he got home from the tunnel, he announced we were going to move again. This time mamma was relieved that it was close by, in the same tenement that Aunt Frances lived in, and we would be on the same floor! She also knew that the old Jew would still deliver and pick up the sewing there! The rent was cheaper, and though the rooms were much smaller, there was one extra bedroom, so my sister and I wouldn't have to sleep with mamma and pappa anymore! We had to move in the night. We took the linoleum with us, like always.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 1, 2010

MY MANOLO

My Manolo is late again
If only I could get out of this bed myself
He will kiss me on the head when he comes as he usually does
A sole act of compassion
From lips I never will taste
He will wash me, then take me out on the balcony for some sun
My Manolo is a good caregiver and cooks well
I love his fig cookies

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 24, 2010

ORANGE AMARYLLIS

Even in strong wind, orange amaryllis in stately rows stand erect
remembering beautiful, perfect, ripe fruits left uneaten
for both will enter a state of decrepitude all too soon.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 30, 2010

R-RATED PIANO LESSON

High, low, in-between.
Make love to 88 keys,
Feel how they yield to the slightest pressure,
and the richness of the depths you take them to.
For each is a skillful lover waiting for a cue.
Touch again the ones that have vibrated the soul.

JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 1, 2010