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Harold Rodinsky

Rest Stop Sex

Rest Stop Sex

On a long car trip the bladder is in charge of distance.

My bladder started screaming 6 ½ hours after

as I crossed the Texas state line into New Mexico,

the first rest stop was at Anthony NM,

the next rest stop was thirty miles west, near Las Cruces

there was no way I could make it that far

I pulled into the Anthony rest area

I parked, jumped out, ran to the Men’s

there was a line for both urinals, the stall was occupied,  i waited in line

reading the sign that said watch out for snakes,

a two foot space at the bottom of the walls provided fresh air and the occasional snake.

i didn't see any

my turn , the urinal next to the stall that was making creaking noise

like there was a giant inside.

a short small guy came out of the stall closing the door behind him

a four day beard kind of guy

and went to the sink and began combing long greasy hair,

unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth,

smirky grin gazing back at him from the mirror

dusty cowboy boots dirty finger nails

gingham shirt with silver collar points, string tie and a big ass Texas-sized belt buckle

I was still peeing when another guy came out of that stall

wearing a light blue izod shirt, madras bermudas, thick glasses, crew cut blond hair

joe-college from the 50’s on the east coast near Boston or Rehoboth

looking dazed, numb, out of focus, not plumb

walking like he was holding a memory between his butt cheeks

I passed up hand-washing and headed back to my car,

twenty minutes later I was having a breakfast at Mcdonald's in Las Cruces

on University ave, on a tiled patio, looking up at the Organ Mountains

a cup of nearly good coffee, and sausage-egg-biscuit no cheese

clean restrooms, and  uninterrupted time to review, rewind, review again

somehow sex at a roadside rest stop,  just before dawn in a crowded men’s room,

floors still wet from earlier hosing-cleaning, seemed gritty

Maybe it was the setting, the characters, the players, the strangers?

meeting for the first time, last time, only time

melding  body parts in that cramped stall with wet floors,

people coming and going, excitement about getting caught but being careful:

no moaning no cries of pleasure no feeling no emotions no unnecessary touching

just penetration, movement, orgasm, zip up, leave the stall

be unobtrusive no hints, just satisfied grins, ear to ear smiles

straighten your clothes get in your car continue driving east or west

only a visceral memory remains

and it begins to  fade with each mile,  

practice makes familiar, learn the rules

the signs, the signals

the gestures and glances

that say,  “I’m available.”

Conversation Mysteries

i dont really know

the meaning

of others’ words

or the true intent

of my agendas

hidden

even from me

eyes dont lie

but sunglasses mask

narrowing pupils

and wrinkles

around the eyes

that change with content

I cant see you

when you text me

phone me

email me

I risk wrongness

arguing

failure to thrive

loves lost

when I guess

which I mostly must

now

Máscara Funeraria

the final detail

          after washing the body

          and wrapping her in  a shroud

          made from fresh new clean linen

          spun and woven for this deed

          placing her in the coffin

          face up to see her fate

          hands in reverence across her chest

a mask of hammered bronze

placed over her face

so fate wouldn't recognize her

after the funeral

when the dead were gone

the living walked in the world of shadows

       half alive

       barely  moving

             thank you for coming

             thank you for your prayers

and retreat suddenly

      as if shoved by an invisible hand

      behind a  mask

to dwell in the past

             in the grave

             in the sorrow

lonesome are the dead

lonesome are the living

Smoking at 10

I’ll meet you at the little league park

okay

how about we walk together?

we lived a couple of blocks from each other

and usually went through the hedge anyway

okay but Ill meet you at market

the wilshire market next to the fremont pharmacy

a few blocks from our houses

and on the way to the little league park

separated by a fence in the outfield from the cemetery

graves watched the centerfielders

we got there about the same time

did you get some?

yes I got a whole pack

good

we started up Fremont street 10 blocks

and half-mile journey

half way he said I didn't get any matches

we can stop at the Beaumont Grocery

you can go in …

tell them the matches are for your mom

are you sure? yes!,  with a shove towards the door…

I went in and wandered around until I found kitchens matches

wooden stick strike anywhere

small boxes two-cents each

I had a nickle

I bought two and got a penny back

they never asked me anything…..

five more blocks

and we were at the ballpark

no locked gates in those days

the season was over

the infield grass need cutting

we headed to the home team dugout

no one could see us in there

but there wasn't anyone anyway

the season was over

summer was over

and school was just starting up again

we sat on the bench

where three years earlier  

I had my first encounter with betrayal

and public humiliation

but not without much energy at the  moment

because  I was going to smoke cigs…

to break a rule

to do what the adults did

and not get caught

and in the fourth grade

camels a whole pack

what his dad smoked

won't he miss them?

no he buys em by the cartoon

ten at a time

he carefully unwound the the little red stripe of celophane

and ripped open the tin foil

exposing little brown faces in white jackets

looking up at us

he picked one out

with his thumb and forefinger

handed it to me and said

here you first, you have the matches

I took the little box of matches

out of my pocket

pushed out the inner box

took out a strike anywhere match

and scratched it on the bench

at first I held the cigarette

between my fingers

and struck the match on the bench

and held the flame to the end of the cigarette

it was my first time

he laughed

no you have to put it in your mouth

and suck on it when you're holding the match in front

I dropped the first match in the dirt

it started to burn my fingers

put the cigarette between my lips

and lit another match

holding it close to the end of the cig

then started sucking

then started coughing

then burned my fingers

and handed him the camel

boy this is great !!

Betrayal at 7

the internal chaos and fear

sometimes

wrought

by the image of betrayal so long ago

permeates in the now,

when reason and trust flee

you were a child that Saturday

just 7 years old

exploring differences at the park

not knowing not suspecting

you would be the topic of show and tell

on Monday

of the fourth week

of the first grade

you wanted so badly to fit in

to belong

to have friends

she was so proud

to raise her hand

to be the first

to tell about her weekend

       your weekend

and for that moment you were the fool

and ran in shame

and terror’

uncontrollably sobbing

buried your face

in the teacher’s dress

the shame and fear are long gone

but the images remain

along with resentment

It is Done

it is done, turn the page
the final submissions are read
ciphers noted, converted, published
and along with feeling accomplished
come feelings of sadness, relief and joy

I have quit associations
that have provided me with inspiration
exasperation perspiration facilitation
but mostly joy happiness and perennial youth

now it is time to enter another chapter
with fewer demands and different mandates
somehow older and more adult
with less randomness and chaos
and much less excitement

I am free now
     only a prisoner of my mind
but this confinement allows me, at least,
to stay current in my own life without guilt,
angst or dread
when I sit with a good book, good coffee
and a cat or two,
dozing in the morning sun

Eleazar

he came-to in the middle of a junction where two roads crossed

he didn’t remember who he was, or how he got to where he was

or even where ‘here’ was

he sat up and looked around

not seeing anything or anybody he slowly got to his feet

and walked to the side of one of the roads

the sun was just coming up so he could tell

which, was east and thus all the directions

none of which helped him in any way

from there he could see he was at a crossroads

and each road that met there, ran off east/west and north/south

disappearing into the shadowy distance

he got up slowly trying to shake off the numbing dregs of uncertainty

with fuzzy indistinct ethereal images of actions

people and places, jellyfish-like unsubstantial ghostly and fleeting

he saw his arms were covered with brown dust

put his hands to his hair neck

his hands came away with the same fine soil

he looked at his clothes and

saw that they were also covered in the same soft dirt,

as if he had been buried in the earth

Chicago Time

one cat ago or maybe two

when I lived in Chicago

and was married to a crazy person

with two crazy children

I used to enjoy sitting outside

reading the trib and drinking local coffee

then Caribou came

followed by Starbucks

and everybody left local

for trendy, with their French bulldogs

on alligator leashes, and their 100 speed

$2500.00 bikes

so local closed

after that I made coffee at home

and sat on my balcony on the fourth floor

and pretended to read the trib

while watching the clouds over the lake

and not listening to the nazi-skinhead-music

that vibrated the walls and windows

after that I moved to Texas

Academic Relief

Today I am practicing not teaching

classes and finals are officially over

next week

I am cleaning my kitchen as it gets dirty

not when I run out of dishes

I’m getting my dryer repaired because I am home and can make an appointment

no more trips to the laundromat with a carload of damp clothes

then doing laundry when there is only one load not 12 loads

and I still have clean clothes to wear

I pruned my bamboo this morning

got my mail before the postman took it back to the post office

am still in my pajamas and slippers

drinking fresh coffee instead of one or even two day old and stale (moldy?)

cooked breakfast instead of fast food

(and washed the dishes)

The pile of unread books and magazines

will begin to disappear

and I look forward to day trips

to the bookstores in town

I have read most of NY Times

the day it comes out

not a week late or a month late

and I brushed the cats

fed the raccoons

and watched the stress leave

Baltimore

I didn’t see Purge

I only read about it

but watching Baltimore burn

reminded me about what I read

and more

scenes from Clockwork Orange

did Anthony predict this present

   Then the future in 1971

when violence reigned?

Idyllicism

I know we had an idyllic past

I’ve learned about it in the movies and on TV

Always Sunny days, and after church going home

Sit down family dinners everybody in their Sunday best

For ham with pineapple, and mashed potatoes with brown gravy

And green beans from the garden

And peach cobbler with handmade ice cream for dessert

Or maybe walk into town

to the town square

spreading our picnic blanket on the lawn

in front of the band-shell

waiting for John Philippe Sousa to arrive

stars and stripes forever

before the first war and maybe back further

but TV showed there were cars already

but medicines like vaccinations, and especially hospitals weren’t like today

death is not so idyllic when it comes at 45

when people died from diseases long gone now

and people went hungry

really only white people went to the park

to hear the volunteers play high school instruments

and have their Sunday picnic

the colored still had signs to tell them where to sit

where to stand, where to go

and after all they had their own part of  town

and those brown folks that worked in the fields

well they couldn’t come to town at all

nothing for them but hard work

no schools, no medicine, no anything

and especially nothing that the town had to pay for

Calvinism runs strong through idyllic America

When Cruzie or Rubiota, Randy, Walken Tall, Perry the killer of coyotes

or others of their ilk

want to take back America I’m afraid they believe in the TV illusions

idyllic-ism overly fond reverence for that which never was

in a time when the poor and the needy were scorned

By people talking about Jesus

do not help others they must help themselves

besides they cost money

acting as if Calvin himself was their minister/preacher

“Pull yourself out of sin

Suffer through hard work

hoard money don’t spend you will be rewarded

only if you qualify, only if you’re white, only if you control who votes

Control and domination will be your reward

Valley International Poetry Festival Schedule

Valley International Poetry Festival

KICKOFF EVENT: BOUNDLESS (ANTHOLOGY) RELEASE PARTY

Thursday, APR 23

7 TO 9 P.M.

Mission Historical Museum (900 E. Doherty, Mission)

 (956) 580-8646

 http://www.missionmuseum.org/programs-and-events.html

 Note: Bus. 83 in Mission splits into one-way streets.

 Book sales are limited to the anthology. All other events are open for book sales.

 Outdoor event (weather permitting).

 Donations welcome: $$$, cookies, chocolate.

FRIDAY, APR. 24

  

POETS IN THE SCHOOLS

 8 A.M. TO 4 P.M.

 Progreso High School

 Poets: Laura Peña, Danielle Hernández, Lucinda Zamora-Wiley, Eddie Vega

 Amalia Ortiz, Featued Poet, Eddie Vega, Jeannette Moreno, Odilia Galván Rodríguez

 San Benito High School

 Poets: Beto Conde, Gene Novogrodsky, Jim Griswold, Bryan Nichols, Alejandro Sanchez, Meliton Hinojosa

  

Weslaco East High School

 810 S Pleasantview Dr, Weslaco, TX 78596
Poets: Trevor Wainwright, Alonzo Spiceman Acosta , Daniel García Ordaz

  

UT-Pan American
1201 W. University Dr., Edinburg, TX

 Room: ARHU 256 (upstairs)

 2 p.m.

 Poets: PW Covington (Featured Poet), Shirley A. Rickett (Featured Poet), Katie Hoerth, Mary Ann Escamilla, Amy Becker-Chambless, Charles McGregor, Jeannette Moreno McNeill, and César De León

 Contact: Katie Hoerth and Marianita Escamilla

 Note: Pre-event lunch is planned, and there will be cookies! Student Open Mic after.

FRIDAY, APR. 24

 POETRY SLAM

 6:30 to 9:30 p.m.

The Flying Walrus (downtown McAllen)

 204 S 17th St, McAllen, TX 78501
(956) 627-0211

 Note: Downtown Parking Garage (221 S. 15th St. McAllen)

 7—8 p.m. STC and UTPA Student Readings

 8—8:40 p.m. Featured Poet not competing in Slam

 8:40—9:30 Adult Poetry Slam Contest

 Note: Only Registered Poets may compete.

SATURDAY, APR. 25: Concurrent Readings Across the RGV

 GROUP ONE: LOS AQUI NOMAS! McAllen/Mission (scroll down for GROUP TWO)

 9 a.m. to 12 p.m. Three Concurrent Workshops and Readings

 McAllen Creative Incubator

 601 N. Main St., McAllen

 (956) 687-2787

Workshop #1: “Poem as Planet”

 9* to 10 a.m.

 Shirley Rickett, Featured Poet, author of Transplant

 Note: Room is in 2^nd Floor; max: 30. Public welcome, but Registered Poets get priority.

  

Workshop #2: “Postcard Poetry”

 10 to 11 a.m.

 Laura Peña, member, Academy of American Poets

 Note: Room is in 2^nd Floor; max: 30.  Public welcome, but Registered Poets get priority.

 Workshop #3: “Arrivals: A Look at the Endings of William Stafford Poems”

 9* to 11 a.m.

 Featured Poet Cindy Williams Gutiérrez, finalist for the 2015 International Latino Book Awards

 Note: This will be a two-hour workshop (with a break and time to share.)

 Room is in 2^nd Floor; max: 30. Public welcome, but Registered Poets get priority.

Quickie Readings: 11 to 12 p.m. (strict end time)

 Featured and Registered Poets Only will read; No open-mic.

 12—2:00 p.m. (Lunch—on your own)

 2—4:30 p.m.: Afternoon Delight Readings

 Mission Historical Museum (900 E. Doherty, Mission)

 (956) 580-8646

 http://www.missionmuseum.org/programs-and-events.html

  Featured Poets: Amalia Ortiz, Edward Vidaurre, Erika Garza Johnson, Shirley A. Rickett, Cindy Williams Gutiérrez

 Registered Poets: Daniel García Ordaz, Nianna Gustovich, Marianita Escamilla, Laura Peña, Jeannette Moreno McNeill, Harold Rodinsky, Eddie Vega, Danielle Hernández, Charles McGregor, César De León, Amy Becker-Chambless

* * * *

 GROUP TWO: LOS TRAVELERS

10—11 a.m.: Workshop

 Paragraphs On Padre, South Padre Island (Bay side)

 "Mobility in Poetry; Continuing Beat Travelogues," by Featured Poet PW Covington

 11:00 a.m. to 12:15 p.m.: Just A Quickie Readings

 Paragraphs On Padre, South Padre Island (Bay side: 505 Padre Blvd. SPI)

 Featured Poet (about 10 min.): PW Covington

 Registered Poets (about 7 min.): Emily J. Foltz, Katie Hoerth, Trevor Wainwright, Odilia Galván Rodríguez, Meliton Hinojosa Jr., Lucinda Zamora-Wiley, James Griswold, Arturo Saldaña, Julieta Corpus, Alonzo Acosta

 Note: It’s possible books may be considered for purchase by the store—at a discount. Check books in upon arrival.

 Lunchtime Readings: 11:15—12:15

 Rio Grande Grill

 417 W Van Buren Ave, Harlingen, opens at 11 a.m.
(956) 423-1817

 Registered Poets: Eugene Novogrodsky, Chip Dameron, Beto Conde, Brenda Nettles Riojas, Alejandro Sánchez, John R. Meza

 Afternoon Delight Readings: 1 to 2:45 p.m.

 Galeria 409

 409 E. 13^th Street, Brownsville

 (956) 455-3599

 Readings by Registered Poets: Eugene Novogrodsky, Chip Dameron, Emily J. Foltz, Beto Conde, Brenda Nettles Riojas, Alejandro Sánchez, John R. Meza

 Lunchtime Readings: Afternoon Delight

 1:30 to 2:30 p.m.

 Rio Grande Grill

 417 W Van Buren Ave, Harlingen, opens at 11 a.m.
(956) 423-1817

 Featured Poet PW Covington

Registered Poets: Katie Hoerth, Trevor Wainwright, Odilia Galván Rodríguez, Meliton Hinojosa Jr., Lucinda Zamora-Wiley, Linda Romero, James Griswold

  

POETRY PACHANGA IX

  

McAllen Chamber of Commerce

 (1200 Ash Ave., McAllen)

 6 to 7 p.m.: Private Dinner

 Note: For Featured & Registered Poets & Pre-Paid Guests Only

 Doors open to the public at 6:45 p.m. Books, t-shirts, CDs, available for sale.

 7—8:30 Featured Poets Readings:

 Amalia Ortiz

 Cindy Williams Gutiérrez

 Edward Vidaurre

 Erika Garza Johnson

 PW Covington

 Shirley A. Rickett

 8:30—9 p.m.: Registered Poets: Haiku or 1-Minute Poems Only!

Alejandro Sánchez, Alonzo Acosta, Amy Becker-Chambless, Arturo Saldaña, Beto Conde, Brenda Nettles Riojas, Bryan Nichols, César De León, Charles McGregor, Chip Dameron, Daniel García Ordaz, Danielle Hernández, Eddie Vega, Emily J. Foltz, Eugene Novogrodsky, Harold Rodinsky, James Griswold, Jeannette Moreno McNeill, John R. Meza, Julieta Corpus, Kathy Raines, Katie Hoerth, Laura Peña, Linda Romero, Lucinda Zamora-Wiley, Marianita Escamilla, Mark Vasquez, Meliton Hinojosa Jr., Nianna Gustovich, Odilia Galván Rodríguez, Trevor Wainwright

 9 p.m. to 9:45 p.m.: Open Mic (one poem—3 min. Registered Poets Only)

SUNDAY, APR. 26

 10 a.m. Dr. Gloria E. Anzaldúa Panteón visit

 Note: Must RSVP so we know to expect you, since directions take too long.

 Meet @ Starbucks at Hwy. 107/University Drive in Edinburg. Leave at 10:05 a.m.

 Lunch at Treviño’s in Edinburg for anyone interested.