Saturday, February 27, 2010

Accumulation (Tanka)

Quantum and quiet/
Stand on shoulders of others/
Snow-flakes rise to heights/
On chrystalline white layers/
Molecules fell the mighty.

Copyright:2010/Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head,verses to be read;.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Love in a Bed Canopied

“Happy to be here”
Words whispered in dark/
“I’m happy you came”.

My Portuguese lover, and I/
a cold night, a magical bed.

Four phallic posts, surround/
above nylon and cotton.

Flush and fluffy, gently swaying/
Cumulonimbus, surreal.

Entwinement as one being/
as AM morphs into PM.

Emotion and intellect/
conflicted by farewells.

Oh, to have your eyes of black/
that secrete traits of aloofness.

Perhaps then, I could love, leave/
And move-on, as a non-chalant.


Copyright 2009/Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.

Thursday, February 25, 2010


"Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me".
Emily Dickinson.

I am DEAD. Yes i am DEAD! How do i know i am DEAD?
Because the doctor in the ER does not seem to hear me.
He seems to be looking right through me.
I see them, the doctor and my lover Gary.
'Gary, can you hear me'? No, just a blank stare in response.

God-damn (I shouldn't use that phrase anymore),
simple procedure, my ass. Emergency/yes, OK,
Gary and i were looking for a medical solution,
not a final solution. I guess they gave Gary some
bull-shit explantion. Maybe i should never have
signed that DNR statement. Gary, how brave we were with
that document. The CREMATION, crap i forgot about that.
Scatter my ashes over the Atlantic off the Jersey shore
how poetic. I know Gary will respect my wishes.

But, wait, how can i think/see/hear/feel/
if i am DEAD?
Ah, you will never know, wait you will know one day.
And of course days won't matter either
Oh no, what if i have been dead for years,
and what i see is only the last image i saw before i DIED.

DEATH is eternal, so my love for Gary will be eternal.

Tony Puma/MMX

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


From: Andrew>
Subject: hi
TO: "Tony P"
Date: Saturday, February 20, 2010, 9:07 AM

Hi tony

andrew here. how are you? I’m sure you weren’t expecting to hear from me.
i do miss seeing you .it was great meeting you in person and you are great in bed. i do want to see you again.
but all i want is to have a physical thing with you. i don’t want to meet regularly but an occasional meeting, say every 2 weeks or longer. i don’t want to sleep over either. i just want to be able to touch you and cuddle with you and have you do the same to me. i don’t want the emotional attachment. am i asking too much?

if you think you could handle this and only meet every so often, i would love to see you again. but i would understand if you wouldn’t.

take care.


RE: hi
From: Tony>
To: Andrew>
Date: Saturday, February 20, 2010, 1:23 PM

U R right I did not expect to hear from u.
Yes, u r a good guy/and I enjoy your company.

But I am a passionate guy/passionate about my poetry and my relationships.

I am Disappointed in your wanting to come over every couple of weeks to enjoy me and feel good about yourself/as if I were your Whore.

I can have sex with most any guy I choose,
but I don’t because I want more than a BJ.

You obviously have a hang-up of getting close to someone.
I suggest you get some therapy/because it is a lousy
way to go through life.

I have conditioned myself to shed negative feelings and live my life to the fullest.
My passion may cause me some hurt in this life-style of mine.
But it is a whole lot better than being afraid to open-up
to another human being.

Do I like you, yes.
But in NO way will i enter into an arrangement where my partner
gets all the benefit of meeting me/when HE decides on some
random day off.

My Asian friends would NEVER ask of me what you have.
Maybe you are too American.


Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine for Adrianna

If we were straight/
what a couple/
we would be.

We would say things/
to each other like/
‘grow old with me’.

But you heed Sappho’s call/
And I the young male ball.

You are my sister and/
hope that you resist the/
impulse to hate my whim/
as I kiss you as kin.

We will be friends in poetry/
exchange our verse as pleasantries.
To be and see/to feel and hear/
emotions rampant/
in our own sphere.

As I end this ‘Hallmark’ rhyme/
and reflect on hurts in my time.
I wish to you less-hurt/
that life will send your way.
So as your Platonic friend:

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Copyright 2010/Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.

Friday, February 12, 2010

San Gennaro/Mulberry Street (A festa e tutte effeste)

Grandiosa aperture della festa/
la banda suonera per le strade del rione.

A child watches from his aerie on –high/
this magic iron grate/the mystery below.

Grande processione con la statua/
del miracoloso San Gennaro/
che girera per le strade del rione.

The child in the crowd/
awed by the Saint/
miracle over myth.

Messa solenna che veria/
celebrata dal vescovo chiesa/
‘The Most Precious Blood’/
fara seguito la venerazione/
e processione con le relique di/
San Gennaro.

A Catholic mass/
where language and rites/
overwhelm the child.
A child of descendent blood/
commingling with the/
symbolic blood of Christ/
and the Saints’ blood relic.

Sfilata con carri allegorici/
e bande con l’intervento di/
note personalita.

Oh, this is what the child/
was waiting for/
family gathered to celebrate.
Never ate food from the street.
(with the exception of Zeppole).

Concorso del palo/
della cuccagna.

Cousins, like monkeys/
shimmy up Grease Pole/
to reach prize on top/
heavens’ reward for/
good works.

What magic this child witnessed.

Copyright 2010/Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010



I forgot your name
I forgot what you looked like.

Now we meet again in that
happy place.

The first time we met you were
dismissive of my poetry.

But I was drawn to you,
as you said you wrote verse.

We sat, and drank, and left
for a four-AM breakfast.
With no change in your
demeanor or attitude.

No good-byes, I walk-out
on you at diner,
while you intercede on behalf
of waitress arguing with manager.


You startle me by how hurt you were
when I left the diner.

It is only then that I realized,
I got through to your inner being,
and past that defensive outer shell.
That you are as lonely as I.

Leave happy place.
Diner re-dux/Uneventful/More insight.
To apartment/Reading poetry-prose.

My God, how you paint your
prose with evocative scenes
and people.

An eye for detail,
with a sensitive touch.
We are kindred spirits
in the written word.

Poetic smoke/Passionate fire.
Love/Nap/Love/Slumber/Love/AM to PM.

How passionate you are in action
as in your words.
How you return my love
in kind.
How in the afternoon we go out
Into a ‘Sunday Coming Down’
type of day'.


Copyright 2009

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


I should have thrown it away,
that orange floppy hat.
In my car, on floor, in rear,
great for rain or shine cover.

It is raining today.
Hat on my head, dry and warm,
melancholy memories.
What trick is this you play with me?

The hat I wore that day,
in the park with you.
As I wrote in the poem,
you made fuss about.

It made me look old.
It covered my eyes.
You took it off my head,
put it in your back pocket.

We had our love.
I lost your love.
Hurtful memory hat,
should throw it away.


Copyright 2009/Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.

Monday, February 8, 2010

The Umbrellas of Bleeker Street

Raining on, ‘Our Lady of Pompeii’
bunting of cardinal colors,
muted by dull gray day.

Umbrellas bobbing up-and-down,
like waves above my head.
Veering from side-to-side to avoid
collision with others so armed.

Black umbrellas add a
somber tone to the day.
An Ingmar Bergman scene,
an ebony tumult.

Multi-colored umbrellas,
add a Fellini touch.
Jetsam and flotsam,
on an undulating sea.

If Our Lady of Pompeii,
looked down on this vision,
she surely would smile.

Umbrage rendered as homage.
Bouna Festa!

Copyright2009/Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.

Friday, February 5, 2010

On the death of Janet-01/23/10


Thanks to my brother Moose
for their sympathy card and

Emily Dickenson wrote in one
of her famous poems:
“Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me”.

Death comes, and life goes on.
It is good to know I belong to
a brotherhood that acknowledges
the sting of death and the joy of life,
for its brother (and sister) members.

Thank you from the Puma family.

Tony, James, Mary, Anthony John,
Michael James and Adam Philip.



January seventeenth/
four-fifty-five PM/
east thirty-fifth street/
second floor office.

I on street below/
stop and spy, scene above/
woman walking past window/
white blouse, black skirt, orange file-folder/
Quo Vadis?

Are you a goddess on-high,
holding some mortal to task?
Your garments give me pause.
Are you Fortune or Discord?