tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42795799608280062602011-04-21T12:19:58.203-07:00Poetry by Mario Tosto-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-43766578855373502862008-04-14T06:13:00.001-07:002008-04-14T06:15:26.596-07:00

All allure when first I met you,Immense and grave you drew me inMy mother shipMy frontier adventureMy sole companion in the art of the new, And like baby to breast I took hard to you.But later you soured, you dried upYou cast me off to practiceBeing small.You were dying and I didn’t know itBut now I do and I thank you For sending me away so as not to die with you.I am a stranger in this new

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-31951606612162571742008-04-07T18:24:00.001-07:002008-04-14T06:20:26.569-07:00

You were my companion in the way beginningWhen I couldn’t get the world to center me in its armsAnd when the nuns and priestsMade the formal introductionComplete with strategies for survivalWe continued together untilI kicked you out decades laterAnd padded through the desertUntil life got scarier than ever.And then you showed up Wearing a different face and a different robeAnd I hooked arms with

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-15339678488380487322008-01-09T10:27:00.001-08:002008-01-09T10:29:40.089-08:00

I thought we'd sent you to the winds in a spray of acceptanceAfter which we all went our ways and made our days without you.But who knew I had mummified and stashed you beneath the floorboards Of my inmost name? Not even I, not even I, untilMy own end loomed at last and I was forced to ruminate And try to locate that inmost name so long forgotten, so draped with shame.In a rage of remembrance I

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-84343792742066538372007-11-29T05:52:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:31.780-08:00

By this writing I am returned to re-plant the fallen flagof ownership on the rim of this sinkhole,whose 30-year-wide maw has swallowedthe shimmering dance floor of solid beliefand righteous purposethat produced the catastrophist I’d become(people ask: what happened? I say: evolutionand a lucky ladder.)Even so, I gaze agog at the loss a god has cost me,left with only cartoon rules (don't look,

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-10322214699822800292007-10-31T20:18:00.000-07:002008-12-13T04:34:32.018-08:00

(Lyrics to a song written many years ago but still apropos.)You were saying that you knew my mind, that it’s specialThe two of us knew better than them all.Such an old line but I’d spend all my timeListening to you lie.I didn’t see the storm brewing,I forgot you were only humanAnd I missed that you were screwing up my life.You say you’re just the other side of the coin, I flipped it over.The

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-30768944766600372342007-10-01T07:37:00.000-07:002007-10-02T06:03:35.151-07:00

(A Song)Oh Lord, I am so tired.I traipsed your rugged narrow straits,Knocked in vain on heaven’s gates, oh Lord,I am so tired -I don’t want to walk here anymoreI don’t want to walk here anymoreOh Lord, I am so hungry!Your manna gives a junk food thrillThat masks the pain but does not fill, oh Lord,I am so hungry -I don’t want to eat here anymore.I don’t want to eat here anymore.And so this

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-61529011823180957732007-09-01T22:28:00.000-07:002009-01-27T21:46:26.515-08:00

Here I am againAt the house of the parents of my middle-aged friends.Such a breathless spell about it,A silent waiting for tragedyUnder the cheery chat of a Sunday afternoon dinner,The reassurance that everyone has a place at the tableAnd just possibly a place forever —If at least one of us canMaster the secret of eternal lifeAnd rescue the rest.I go to see my friends, and be seen of them,And

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-81333866323423176092007-08-14T15:31:00.000-07:002007-08-14T15:31:51.310-07:00

(after a line from "Forty-One, Alone, No Gerbil" by Sharon Olds)"In the strange quiet, I realize"Why I now seldom hear from my old intimate:Fear of my incipient atheism andHard jeremiads read at churchHave prompted a hailmary emailIn the mistaken belief that Bible bells will break the spellAnd call me back from this far country,This Beaujolais Nouveau of my godless youth,Whose music is stronger

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-15168192828657153842007-07-28T01:58:00.000-07:002007-07-28T03:12:56.619-07:00

Son,You are right:This imperfect world is all that is real,It deserves our attention and care.If my life is a lesson,Its wastage is wisdom -Defer not till heavenOne earthly good.God is self-damnedBy being absent whenThe faithful pray.But some of them wake, even I,And stare with eyes broken openAt the wonder of what you’ve discoveredWithout Him.You are writing the book I thought I would write,When

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-42636149708121784762007-06-09T09:53:00.000-07:002008-12-13T04:34:32.605-08:00

When thinking of death and I can’t sleepI hear it gnaw at the wallTurning it all to dust in nibblesIntent only to gnaw and gnaw, keep warmAnd stay away from the neighborhood cat.My common wall neighbor says what’s the use,You can call a man to crawl aroundAnd plant poison,Who in a few days returnsTo retrieve the bodies, butIt always comes back.The bodies are just costumes.The raw banality

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-57068335517949140542007-06-05T02:55:00.000-07:002008-12-13T04:34:32.832-08:00

If I ever go backIt will be in the manner of elephants who,Teeth worn and starving,Having done all to live and reproduce,Heave a sigh in the gloom andDeposit themselvesOn the bankOf where it all began.Until then, do not expect me back.I am trying to moveSo as to fall forwardWhen I fallAnd in so doingBe both fool and sage,Trial and error haunting meAt every stage,But lengthening the listOf

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-33620791833254194072007-05-17T04:12:00.000-07:002008-12-13T04:34:32.988-08:00

Spun off from the eddy of faith My bark, like a bottle enclosing an old note, Wallows awhile in the backwater shallows,Righting itself for what’s next.Then, in the becalming the becoming:An oarsman of reason evolves,Pulling stroke after logical strokeFearless toward the Bright-troubled sea.

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-36867629148180061312007-03-13T09:07:00.000-07:002008-12-13T04:34:33.502-08:00

Awakened by death prowling the hallsI note neither of us is dead yet And so I reach over and touch you lightly,Not for conversation butLike a miser in his vaultTo tally the unfair excess ofOur love, Which we forget or pretend not to haveWhen the poverty of egonomics Makes us act like assholes or strangers Or rats on a wheel treading each moment As a clone of the last.I gloat well knowingThis

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-31576030196313862702007-03-04T08:19:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:33.668-08:00

I regret I am not the poet I would be.I do not bear the burden every hour.I fit it in when moved by reading or pain.I am a self-medicating poetDancing with the words until I feel betterThat I have at least written somethingThat will live after me.For writing lives after you If someone will pick up the pieces after you’re goneIf someone will careAnd they will wonder why You could never be

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-43614443059709677262007-03-04T06:44:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:33.753-08:00

In the days of VietnamBefore the cuisine and immigrantsWe vowed we’d learned it Once and for allLearned how relentlessStupidity can beHow good men can go badIn the flurry of emergencies And urgencies and the higher missionOf cause and party.How did we let it happen again,Again, against that never-again?How did we let that resolve becomeAnachronism and hand wringingAnd oh well it’s not our game?

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-72118987266566750202007-02-06T19:36:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:33.913-08:00

For me a new year is not 365 stepping stones For becoming something more than you are,It's a grid of holes punched outIn orderly rows like the grate of a storm sewerOver which passes a torrent of momentsCalled my experience.Some vanish into the holes,Some slop onto the spaces betweenAnd these sluices make up the flow of momentsRetained in memory that I call my history.That you and I meet here at

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-25532827758384197012007-02-04T20:12:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:34.285-08:00

Mikey I call him because he likes my recipe for hummingbird foodLike the kid in the cereal commercial who taste-tested and liked Life.Though there’s room and food enough for fourMikey fends off all the other hummersBecause he’s naturally selfish.It’s why his species survives.What matter that one hummer goes hungry?This one will reproduce his selfishness and skillsAnd therefore his kind for at

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-56785488591993006612007-02-01T15:25:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:34.472-08:00

My friend the luthier saysThe bridge on this guitar needs replacing.Trouble is, the last time it was replacedThey used epoxy,Which soaks in, fusing the woodsSo you can’t detach the bridgeWithout tearing up the soundboard,Wrecking the guitar.Elmer’s would have been better, he said.It’s water-soluble,Just makes the two woods hold hands,So when the time comes,A little warmthCan coax them to let

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-42034342720528942462007-01-31T17:33:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:34.670-08:00

And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am. And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of. (Genesis 22)When I saw the knifeI knew too much to be fearless.He’d

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4279579960828006260.post-91998453663475690602007-01-04T05:53:00.000-08:002008-12-13T04:34:34.904-08:00

Saddam! Saddam! So evil that in the end you won.Your ruthless taking of lifeTook our reverence and replaced itWith your own dead soul.Saddam! Saddam! You were already deadBut we believed our murdering is better than yours,Our revenge a strong but bitter pillThat would bring us peace.Saddam! Saddam! It is not you who diedBut we.

-mthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641925000204717997noreply@blogger.com