Month: March 2019

Round Trip Chapter 2

Posted on by Andy Bondi

Good Doc/Bad Doc

I was sitting on a bus in downtown hometown USA.  The bus was purring at idle.  The destination plaque announced OAKLAND INDUCTION CENTER. 19 year old boys were drifting in one by one.

A couple of weeks before I came through the door from my seasonal construction job.  Sally called out to me, “You got another letter from the draft board.  What now?”

I knew what.  A month after I graduated from college I lost my 2S middle class, white boy, student deferment. And now I knew I was being drafted. It was 1971 and Vietnam was still hoppin.  I opened the letter, “Yeah, I am ordered to report September 26 to the Oakland Induction Center for a draft physical.”

“Oh, so what do we do if you get drafted?” Sally was worried I know but rarely showed it.

“I don’t know.  Let’s see what happens.”  Sal did not like the sound of that. I tried to be calm, not freak out Sally. And normally I tended to freak Sally out.  Couldn’t do it.  I FREAKED! We spent the night going over options.  Canada?  Maybe.  Guatemala?  Better, since we had little money.  Go into the ARMY.  FUCK NO!  Then we came up with a PLAN.

I applied for conscientious objector status when I was a freshman.  Nothing happened.  I had a severe handicap.  I was raised Catholic, a particular war like religion. The Crusades, the Black Ships, and, the perennial favorite, The Inquisition.  ROMAN CATHOLIC didn’t look good on a CO application.  My app was probably filed under “War Monger.” Continue reading “Round Trip Chapter 2” →

Dictum

Posted on by Andy Bondi

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Learning to breathe
Learning to fall, turning slightly
as I plummet
and focus on the greenery as it unfolds
Learning the scale of the seasonal moon
shadows in the darkness
and silent birds by the thousands
alive on the thin wires tied to our wrists

Learning to recognize tombs among the stones
Learning where the angels hold hands
their footprints outlined in the soft moss
Learning where to wait, where to listen
when to stop
Learning to take from the lake
the launch of the crane
infinite neck and blue wings
focused against a thin moon
Learning to swim, breath water
wait for the vision
which takes me back to the beginning
and I’ll get another chance
I’ll get another chance

Learning to crush a violet between thumb and palm
Learning that crushed flowers may
or may not be
an apt metaphor
crush flowers anyway
Learning to pray by dreaming backwards
Learning to walk through fire and mud
while waking to the sound of still air
Learning to listen to pebbles as they bump one another
in the shallow waves
Learning to spot loneliness
and, in a disciplined manner
respond only with touch or music

Finally the tide comes in

Posted on by Andy Bondi

Picture1

Finally the tide comes in

There is a young girl playing in the sand

The tide drives her up the beach

toward the sea wall

where her mother is reading

a newspaper

The small girl, she cant be more than 3 years old

is right up against the sea wall

Her mother is there

The mother drops her paper

and the little girl, she

is no older than 3

lays her head

on her mothers lap

and sleeps

Goin to Church

Posted on by Andy Bondi

 “You are going to church, I don’t care what you say,” my ma said.  She looked a little bit like she was going to hit me.  But I didn’t care.

“I ain’t going to church.  I hate it.  You can’t make me.”   I love to talk back to my ma and now I was going to get my chance.  She wanted me to go to church.  But I would rather eat dirt.

“Well,  I think they got real good doughnuts today.” She was trying to sucker me.

“I don’t care, that church hall smells so bad of rotten  perfume and old lady’s face powder that I couldn’t eat a doughnut anyway. I’d throw up.”  But then I got to thinkin. Bad Kathy, with the big old huzongas, would be there.  She always went to 11 o’clock mass, lookin so good and trying to be holy at the same time. Even though I was only 12, I still noticed her all the time.  I didn’t get it.  With those huzongas she would have to be sinnin all the time.  So why did she go to church? Maybe she felt bad for sinnin? Or maybe she just wanted to show them off.  It didn’t make any difference.  She was 14.  She never looked at me.  But I looked at her.  “What kind of doughnuts you think they got, ma?”

“Good ones. Plus, if you don’t go, I’ll have your pa beat you.” Continue reading “Goin to Church” →

Washed by Rain

Posted on by Andy Bondi

 

from BAJA

 

Washed by rain
I stand naked in the chill
and rename my clothes
one by one
light
wet Clay
wood
red Camellia

_______________________

What is ahead
perfectly round stones
border a rain dotted sea

_______________________

A black crow
stands on the top
of an open  red door
a thousand miles away
it is morning