Memories of Uncle Mike
Short Poems
By Michael P. Garofalo
Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series I
Uncle Mike as the West Coast Everyman
By and About Uncle Mikes from ELA
For all Readers with an Uncle Mike
Do You Know of an Uncle Mike
Memories of an Uncle Mike
The Many Lives of Uncle Mikes
My Uncle Mike,
in 1968,
taught me
to tie my shoe laces,
took me
to see Bruce Lee
at Grauman's Chinese,
walked me around
the campus at USC,
drove me
on trips to the sea,
treated me
with tasty new foods,
and played fun games
with me.
Decades later,
now old and grey,
Uncle Mike came
to my daughter's wedding,
danced with my wife,
enjoyed the buffet,
smoked a J,
and smiled all day.
Uncle Mike was buried in Sicily—
killed in 1943,
his body blown to bits
by Nazi artillery.
A damn shame—
down dead at 18,
and forgotten
these days.
Her Uncle Mike left his wife
one plain Saturday.
Never returned,
or so they say.
And,
His wife now lives
in cold Coos Bay,
a bit bitter
to this day.
Or,
His wife now lives
in San Diego Bay,
cheerful and bouncy
to this day.
Mrs. Depesio had an uncle
named Mike. He drove a
dump truck in LA
most days of his life.
We boys would watch
as Uncle Mike drove by,
he would slow down,
his horn he would toot,
and he would shout out
"Fachia Brute!"
maybe another toot!
Then he smiled—
and drove on by.
Uncle Bill, Uncle Gene,
Uncle Bob, Uncle Mike,
all gathered together
Halloween Day
the twin's birthday,
in 1947
in LA's autumn light.
They all held and played
with a 1 year old plucky tyke,
naming him, foldly,
"Little Mike."
They all laughed,
and ate at Grama's house.
Youth on their side!
Determined to stride
to 2005.
One made it.
Uncle Mike's wife, Dolores,
made doughnuts many ways
on Crispy Creme machines
before dawn every day.
Dolores brought home donuts,
and Mike ate them all;
His waistline grew bigger,
into a huge ugly ball.
Sitting in the employee kitchen,
Mrs. Lesnick and Uncle Mike,
on their last break,
before their last shift tonight.
They sipped coffees and chatted.
Suddenly, she looked startled,
then collapsed on the floor.
Help arrived, but sadly,
she died.
None of those there in '74,
will ever forgot that sad scene,
of poor Josephine,
lying dead on the floor.
My father's father came from Sicily
to California in 1903.
The West Coast had many
fresh
fruits and vegetables
to pick, transport, and sell wholesale.
They used horses and wagons,
later trucks, and the men's muscles,
from fields to wholesale food docks.
His brother, Michele,
worked in the wholesale business,
till he died in 1935.
But Demetrio and Michele never
got along well,
and went their separate
East LA and West
LA Ways.
Zio Michele, you see, was Gay.
Big Mike Mullaney worked
at the ACE hardware store in Raymond;
a few blocks from the quiet Willapa River,
in the northeast corner of the Bay.
Fishing, electrical, building and more
were his expertise, his regulars say.
His neice, Mary, and her toddler son,
had lunch with her Uncle Mike
on Thursday at DQ.
It was raining again today.
Months like this anyway.
High tide in the Bay.
Not much to say.
DQ food hot and OK?
Low tide in the Bay?
Library open today?
DQ codfish burger OK?
Rain on the way.
Nothing much to say.
The child asked today,
"UnK-le Miiike, can I
have more French fries?"
So, he gave the little boy a little joy,
He gave him an ACE bargain bin toy,
And more hot french fries and catsup
on a clean plastic plate.
Both felt great.
He had no cousins when he was born,
Six uncles and three aunts;
But no Cousins, being the firstborn
of the Baby Boomers
of his families Los Angeles clan.
Later he would become a man,
and become an Uncle Mike himself,
and have many nephews and neices
across the Northwest lands.
Uncle Mike
died in a Boyle Heights shack.
Dead for days
putrid-stinking
on his bed
he laid.
Rotting away.
Uncle Mike’s “Dangling Dichotomies”
“Hovering in the Present Time, Present Place,
Caught between the Real and the Imagined,
Cut off from the Past and Future,
Dangling in the Present!
Splitting up the Firewood of Dichotomies:
Objective/subjective, Tool/word, Scientific/literary,
God/man, Noumena/phenomena, Real/imagined,
Non-Fiction/fiction, Something/nothing, Many/one,
Things/ideas, Substance/attributes, Truth/falsity,
Multiplicity/singularity, Right/wrong, Clear/muddy,
Balanced/unstable, Woman/Man, Day/night,
Factual/fanciful, Interesting/dull, Creative/repetitive,
Temporary/permanent, Yin/Yang, Beauty/ugliness,
Practical/theoretical, Actual/possible, Logical/confusing.
Plenty of kindling for the fireplace.
These ideas fired up my thinking for many decades.
Dualistic thinking is great kindling for temporary flickers of insight.
Dualistic thinking is fun and pleasurable, naysayers ignored.
Sometimes, Not Thinking is quite a good activity.”
"Live long enough,
and the losses pile up,
Till you're tossed away
like an old cracked cup,
All stained and worm,
dulled by time,
Useless, leaking,
not worth a dime.
Then, you die, sometime.
Egoless, your flesh falls away,
You, a skeleton becomes;
Lost in Nirvana,
lights out,
all done.
Nine months later,
despite It's sudden surprise,
It's awakened!
Not as Kafka's Ungeheueres Ungeziefer,
or some Memaloose on the run,
but as a horny Stud Skeleton.
Then, the Skeleton Woman
drinks your dry tears,
Drums your still heart,
and sings away fears,
Slips under the quilts
and gives Love a Whirl;
Spinning, twirling,
your reborn as a Girl.
Forget yourself,
crack the cup on the floor,
Speak in a new voice,
the past is no more."
- Michael Garofalo
§ ‣ … † ※ ⁓ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂
!! Under Construction !!
!! Under Construction !!
!! Home !!
"so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens"
- William Carlos Williams
"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit."
- T. S. Eliot
Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Haiku, Brief Free Verse, Photos
Tercets, Concrete Poems, Quartets
Cinquains, Waka, Couplets, Senryu
Sonnets, Limericks, Quatrains
30 Letters is Best per Line of Text at 30px
Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series I
Cuttings: Haiku and Short Poems
Pulling Onions: Over 1,000 One-Liners
Green Way Research Subject Index
Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series #10
Text, graphics, photos, and webpage design
by Michael P. Garofalo.
Updated: June 25, 2022
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All Rights Reserved