FROM CHICAGO PHOENIX

IN THE TRAIN YARDS OF CHICAGO

Survivor of Normandy's blood-soaked beaches
My uncle Ed had a little trouble hearing due to World War II
Got jumpy from loud noises
But returned home intact
Arms legs fingers toes
Baby blues, turned up nose
Handsome Irishman
Loved by Elsie
Wife and mother of his two:
Fay and Donald
Who shared his baby blues
Railroad job: union man
Back to work after war
When he left for work that morning,
After a simple kiss "Good-bye darlin'"
Sandwich in bag
Coffee thermos
"I've been workin' on the.!"
he ought to have known when Jimmy the Engineer
offered him a nip of whiskey for his coffee
that chilly spring morn.
He climbed up the side car to tighten up a hinge when
Jimmy - drunk - hit the rails hard - then the brakes
Ed found himself
Wind knocked out of him
Flat on his back
Staring at the sky
The train car jerked
He tried to get out
But not before both legs
Were on one side of the train and he couldn't see his knees
Only blood, the blood, the red juicy stuff of life
He bellowed not - so much in pain -
As in shock! Outrage! Shame!
All the bloodshed he'd witnessed
and survived
But not now!
"Jesus, Jimmy!" He cried,
"You cut off my legs! My God-damn legs, my legs."
Riley scrambled to put his belt around one -
"Don't worry Ed,
We'll get you through this I just need another tourniquet."
"Don't shit me Riley! I know what's what!
Now who'll teach my son to be a man -
Tell my Elsie I love her! Jesus! I'm doing the hoochie coochie here
I can't get warm! Warm me up, will ya? Just warm me up."
Baby blues merged with the blue of the sky
My uncle Ed survived the beaches of Normandy
Only to bleed to death a year later
In the train yards of Chicago.

CONFESSIONS OF A CHICAGO TIME TRAVELER

My job is time travel 1870: Sweden
The land of the midnight sun where there are no jobs
Three years of failed crops-only empty stomachs
And a ticket to ride-to the other side of the great Atlantic
No Lindberg yet to fly we ride a ship
The children of the future join my museum journey
Vomit sea sickness-the cholera sick die
Others protect scant food
Dance in joy
When we, in Castle Gardens, NY arrive
Train travel
Choo choo to Chicago
Where we learn a language not our own
Tak s'mycket
Thank you very much
Clinging to the fibers
That connect us: blood body bone
And what exactly
We call home.

BLONDE CHICAGO INFERNO

When I walk Chicago Streets October 8th
Will I find you
Beautiful blonde inferno
Running with your hair on fire?
Chased by the wraiths of hell
1871
The man-your nemesis
Was a working joe
Having an ouzo or was it a shot of tequila
Irish whiskey
French brandy
British Rum
Finnish Vodka
Corn Likkor-a saki
After grabbing a few things from home with his friends
In the heat of the moment
Evil impulse
He tossed his last shot on your personal furnace
Would he have doffed his shirt and saved you
If you'd been a man, priest, rabbi, friend, brother, boy?
Less than human, a 19th Century woman
Citizen 2nd class
Couldn't vote
Had no rights
Would he still have dowsed you? Your hair already on fire
His booze hit you
And a pure blue flame
Enveloped
Your beauty
Angelic face
Melting into screams
Becoming
Charred cinders of the past
There are still sightings of you
Old fashioned blonde girl
Legend without a name
Running through Chicago
With your hair on fire
Female spirit burning fame.