Crooked Rhyme

"The poet reads/His crooked rhyme."--"Bleecker Street," as sung by Simon and Garfunkel, 1964. This blog is dedicated to the poems of Kelley Dupuis.

My Photo
Name:
Location: Washington, D.C., United States

I love a rainy night, but never cared much for the late Eddie Rabbitt. I'm a writer and editor by trade, weekend painter and one hell of a cook by avocation. I make a fabulous daquiri using Ernest Hemingway's recipe. I love classical music and jazz when I'm at home, classic rock when I'm barreling up the interstate at 70 mph. I have a Trek road bike and a Cannondale mountain bike. I turned 53 on Oct. 12, 2008. Peanut butter goes great with coffee. My favorite pianists are Glenn Gould and Thelonious Monk. I've lived in Europe, South America, Africa and Russia. I speak a little Russian. I can say the Pledge of Allegiance in Spanish. I know how to make feijoada, the national dish of Brazil. I once drove in a demolition derby. I love baseball, but I bear the cross of being a San Diego Padres fan. I hate cellphones. I like good Scotch, quality cigars, Frank Sinatra and delicatessen fare. I collect books. I'm a lousy chess player. Mozart is God.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Antique Shop

There it is again. That morning sun.
The off-white egg cup, yellow-rimmed,
its crowing rooster on a tiny fence.
How many mornings in Grandma’s
kitchen are encapsulated in that cup?

Enough to make me linger here
for a moment, alongside the Texaco
Fire Chief sign that must be someone’s
Christmas morning, frosty midday,
or string of slow-moving afternoons,
leaning on a mop in some service bay,
the foot-dragging wall clock, neon-lit,
circling over the bench, an angry wasp.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home