It began as the GODFATHER OF MATH, evolved into the GOODFATHER OF MATH. Now this. Go figure...

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The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for five seconds and think for ten minutes = G. CARLIN...Stain glass, engraved glass, frosted glass
–give me plain glass = JOHN FOWLES ... Music is the mathematics of the gods=PYTHAGORAS ... Nothing is more fluid than language = R. L. SWIHART
I cannot live without the oxygen of laughter = DAWN POWELL ... !!! ... But laughter cannot survive without the hydrogen of gravitas = PAUL OLIVERIO
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Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Katonah Village Library SUNDAY POET SERIES

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Katonah Village Library
BUS BOY
[excerpt]

Like you, I was of the slime of alleys,
of the same immemorial cigarette butts
and rotting cottage cheese.

And like you,
I dreamed of a certain waitress,
and of driving a fork into the forehead
of the night manager,
and of spitting in the soup
of plump, complacent, well-dressed diners
who snapped their fingers at me.

But most of all I dreamed of being clean,
and cool, and never, ever again
slogging through the world’s filth and stink,

which is something I have achieved,
as must be perfectly obvious to you
George Belgere



Mr. Belgere will be the featured poet on Sunday March 22, 2015

His website is  here.

However, a part of must hate this poet for the following reasons:

The library hyperlink leads to a very interesting interview
which the library published on March 6, 2015

On that date, snow caked as high as six feet was visible throughout
the Westchester County village.

On March 7, I flew back to Los Angeles after spending
sixteen wonderful days in Katonah.

That number of days was equal to the number of hours,
during that time period, when the temperature was above freezing.

Upon returning to short-sleeved weather in Long Beach, California
I swore that I was on a different planet because my heart and soul
was still somewhere in Katonah where all  of my serious
winter wardrobe was left behind.

On March 8, the air temperature in Katonah was 61 degrees
but the next day, it dropped to the mid-Forties.

On March 14, home in Long Beach for exactly one week,
I was in the final throes of the worst jet lag I ever experienced.
This is someone  whose cross-country flights
number in the mid-forties.

Part jet lag, part heart lag because the love of my life
and the very reason I exist is in the same place
as my winter clothes.

On March 22, the Queen of the CarPeo Castle will not
be in attendance at the Katonah Village Library Poetry Series
because her "chauffeur" is 3000 miles away but,
at this time, will admit that no part of himself
hates George Belgere.

But every part of the "chauffeur" loves Mrs. CarPeo

She has  more talent  in her right hand
than I have in my entire 65 years of existence.
 

 


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