POEMOGRAPHY | 2025
Poems by R.M. Usatinsky
pōəˈmäɡrəfē, noun: form or process of writing and representing poetry
MARCH
01MAR25 | THE CALL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
I’d waited a lifetime for it, dreaded it,
hoped it would never come, but death
is inevitable; so when the phone rang
just after two a.m. and mom’s name
appeared on the screen of my phone,
I knew that this was the call in the
middle of the night, the one I knew
would come one day; I had called my
mother just hours before, she said dad
was a having a bad day, that he couldn’t
breathe and the nurse had called for an
emergency delivery of oxygen; she said
try talking to your father, so I did, I said
hi dad it’s me, Ricky, and as he stared into
the screen I knew it would be the last time
I ever saw him alive, and indeed it was
02MAR25 | STUCK IN A RUT
I suppose you could say that I’m stuck,
a little stuck in a little rut; stuck in a little
rut with my big fat gut; stuck in a little rut
with my big fat gut eating a nut; stuck in a
little rut with my big fat gut eating a nut
contemplating getting a crewcut; then I’d
be stuck in a little rut with my big fat gut
eating a nut with a crewcut; and to celebrate
my crewcut I’d go and buy a donut, a cream-
filled donut for my big fat gut to celebrate my
crewcut and for being stuck in a little rut while
eating a nut; and with my donut in my big fat
gut, I’ll go and find a hut and dig myself a little
rut where I’ll sit on my butt and eat a nut while
looking at my crewcut wondering why oh why
I’ve got a big fat gut and such a tiny little butt
03MAR25 | A PORCUPINE SKIT
Someone’s gotta dress up as the
porcupine when you’re doing a
porcupine skit; a child or small
person to don the costume and
suffer through the long process
of placing the quills in just the
right places; come to think of it,
I’m reminded about the time my
son was learning how to say the
word porcupine in Spanish; he
had a time saying puercoespín,
which literally means spiny pig;
he would say cuerpoespín, the
literal translation meaning spiny
body which, to me anyway, seems
like an even better way to say it
04MAR25 | MAYBE
Maybe life doesn’t want me
hangin' around no more; not
making a fuss or going from
one thing to the next; sitting
too much, standing too much,
eating too much, sleeping too
much, not sleeping enough; I
wonder how much more I’ll
have to endure before the truth
is revealed, before they have to
cut me open and have the whole
thing blow up in their faces; I
used to think I was worthy of a
dignified, peaceful end, but now
I’m reminded that the end is still
the end no matter how much fuss
05MAR25 | ASHES TO ASHES
The idea doesn’t sit well with me;
your body, already emaciated and
just barely recognizable, lying on
some slab in a refrigerated box in
the backroom or basement of the
place where they took you a few
hours after you breathed that last
breath in the presence of your son
and wife; where they removed you
with such care and dignity, draped
with the American flag and taken
down in the elevator to a waiting
vehicle; but the image of you being
placed into the cremator, the flames
engulfing your already ravaged body,
is too much for my imagination to bear
06MAR25 | WHAT IS LOSS?
Loss is many things, not one thing
or another; it is the permanent loss
of a parent who dies, leaving behind
loved ones and memories and loss
for those who are left in the wake of
loss; loss is estrangement, when a son
or daughter discard a parent without a
trace of compassion, without a why or
explanation; loss is a brother who won’t
reach out though he continues a faraway
admiration but for some reason simply
can’t bring himself to calling and only
sends off brief updates when their mother
(not their father) is unwell, hospitalized,
or in some other peril; loss is an endless
void, an abyss of what will never be again
07MAR25 | NASIRA
You are serenity, slowly moving ripples
that caress my spirit in those few fleeting
moments we share; but I wonder what
you see when you look at me, look into
my eyes; and what you feel when I tell
you my stories, woes and longwinded
anecdotes about my children who won’t
speak to me or my belly who speaks too
loudly or my past that lives too deeply
within me; what do you make of this old,
broken man? do you think he can be fixed?
do you really think I have the power to fix
myself? I left you today and went to buy
some eggs and other foods then walked to
the Vliet and looked at the water, trees, sky,
and birds; and I thought of you thinking of me
08MAR25 | THE MOON (AS A DAYTIME SPECTACLE)
It’s only two o’clock in the afternoon,
the sun illuminates the pale blue sky
as a gentle breeze slowly moves the
newly sprouted greenery on the trees
across the canal; and from my window
vantagepoint I can clearly see the moon
in its waxing gibbous splendor floating
high above the tree tops (I have to adjust
my eyes to make sure it’s the moon and
not a pale smudge of birdshit the window
washer might have missed last week when
his extendible hose/brush slammed into
the window and scared me half to death);
I look at the moon as a daytime spectacle,
a thing I know is there but shouldn’t be, at
least not seen in the brightness of daylight
09MAR25 | DREAMS INSIDE OF DREAMS
I love having dreams inside of other dreams,
especially when they’re set in Chicago; in last
night’s dream I was heading down deep into the
bowels of the subway; seeing the down escalator
was out of service, I decided halfway down to try
sliding the rest of the way and it was the most fun,
exhilarating experience, like an amusement park ride,
and once I reached the bottom of the long escalator, I
was overcome by a fit of giggles; noticing there were
options for both busses and L trains, I boarded a bus
towards home; just after the bus pulled out of the depot,
I spotted an older African American woman I knew
riding a bike, so I got off the bus to greet her but lost
track of her; in the second dreamscape, I recounted the
dream to my family at the dinner table telling them I had
taken the Peterson Avenue bus home before waking up
10MAR25 | CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT
I’ve always been one with a curious nature,
wondering how things work (like photocopy
machines, moonlight, and how famous rock
stars get paid); I was hoping to have been a
rock star myself to see firsthand how the money
gets from point A (radio stations, record stores,
streaming services, etc.) to Point B (the artist’s
bank account); so much bookkeeping and so
much money passing through so many hands, it
seems mindboggling really; but my curiosity of
late has been of a more consequential matter in
that it concerns a particular medication I’ve been
taking—Amlodipine—for the treatment of high
blood pressure, which I stopped taking a few days
ago as it was making me sick; now my curiosity
is focused on how that decision will play out
11MAR25 | YOU NEVER FORGET
I pulled my bike out of the basement
this morning for the first time in two
years, dusted it off and walked it over
to the bike shop I’ve been using for
minor repairs and spring tune-ups; the
Turkish owner greeted me and took
the bike from me then gave it a once
over and squeezed the back tire telling
me it would be ready at three; I haven’t
been on a bike in a long time, not since
hurting my back while riding over some
uneven pavements on my way back to
the amusement park where we’d been
spending the weekend when I went home,
albeit briefly, to feed the cat and clean her
litterbox; you never forget how to ride a bike
12MAR25 | DUST TO DUST
Mom called to tell me that the
thing has been done (funny I
can’t seem to bring myself to
say the word) and that her and
my brother will be bringing dad
home later today; what a strange
thing to say, I thought to myself,
he’s not actually coming home;
and I know it’s a euphemism and
I know it’s meant simply to soften
the harsh reality, but I think it’s
better to say what it is, but I guess
everyone has their own way of
dealing with grief and finding
ways of seeking comfort during
a time of such profound loss
13MAR25 | LONG SHADOWS
I had been out for a midday stroll,
my body casting long shadows on
the well-worn pavement, when all
at once a sun shower swept in and
dowsed me with a light sprinkling
of rain; but with the rain, I noticed
that my shadow had suddenly gone,
vanished into thin air; I wondered if,
for those few fleeting seconds of time,
my soul had departed my body; and
then, in an instant, it returned as if it
had been to some otherworldly place,
returning again to whence it came, in
me, filling the void it left when the rain
appeared and doused my shadow with
its dewy mist and fine stinging spray
14MAR25 | MY MOST HARROWING FEARS
As I head swiftly into old age, I am beginning
to amass a collection of what I call harrowing
fears, fears which have very little basis in any
genuine reality other than obsessions about this
or that and things that are very unlikely to occur;
no, it’s not what you’re thinking: coronary artery
disease, cancer, dementia––not that those don’t
cross my mind every now and again (okay, so
maybe more than that)––but truly outrageous and
nonsensical things like, for example, my fear of
being bludgeoned to death, either while riding on
on a city tram and being attacked by a lunatic with
a hammer, or someone bashing my head in with a
sledge-hammer while I’m listening to my meditation
on a bench on the banks of the waterway; I also fear
people randomly falling to their death from the sky
15MAR25 | NEW BUSSES
The new busses that arrived in 2023
have finally been put into service; I
suppose that’s not earthshattering news,
but for me—especially because there’s
at least one new bus on my beloved 23
line—it’s something I’ve been waiting
for; the first one I spotted (just steps from
my house) was about a week or ten days
ago and I still haven’t managed to go on my
maiden voyage aboard the softly humming
Daimler, battery-electric bus (one of the new
95-bus HTM fleet that includes both 12-meter
solo and18-meter articulated busses); maybe
I’ll leave the house after breakfast tomorrow
morning and wait to see if lady luck brings one
and I’ll hop on to the end of the line at the beach
16MAR25 | MY MOTHER’S PURSE
As a kid, I loved rummaging through my
mother's purse (or handbag as my grandfather,
the women’s shoe and accessories salesman,
would often refer to it); it was treasure trove
of miscellany, shiny things like keys, pillboxes
and lipstick holders; there was a clutch-sized
wallet that contained her checkbook and a wide
assortment of compartments for paper money,
coins, credit cards and photos; and there were
always a few of those small-sized photo albums
you would get for free when you developed your
film at Libby’s, these fake woodgrain, little square
ring-bound albums with their thin plastic pouches
where you inserted your snapshots; and there were
packets of Certs and Dentyne and the ever-present
golden plastic sheath that held a huge Kotex pad
17MAR25 | THE WIDOW
I never thought of you as becoming a
widow one day, even through the last
two decades of dad’s illness; I suppose
it’s the same way I never thought of you
as being old, but the burden (I don’t know
any other way to put it) of being someone’s
caregiver—even if it is your own husband—
is enough to age anyone; and now you’re
alone, the weight of the world lifted from
your shoulders; the end of his suffering means
your suffering can end as well; nothing more
to bear, no more bad days, no more strangers
intruding upon the privacy of your home; now
it’s time to raise your head high again and take
back the life you sacrificed all these years and
make what you can of the years that remain
18MAR25 | LAPSES
It’s happening more frequently of late,
becoming more concerning, debilitating;
these lapses in my ability to remember,
to keep my stories straight and keep once
stored away information stored away in
the place I originally stored it; first there
were the forgetful incidences: the wallet
then the water bottle left at work; then it
was my customer who travelled to the U.S.
who offered to bring me back some vegan
jerky—which he did months ago and we’d
already talked about his sojourn and the many
experiences he had; but two weeks ago he was
at the shop and we talked about it again as it had
never happened (and what about my jerky I asked
myself); then yesterday, the thing with Michael…
19MAR25 | TWO LOSSES IN TOKYO
I actually looked into making the trip to Tokyo
to see the opening series of this year’s baseball
season (but it would have cost a small fortune!);
it was the Cubs versus the Dodgers in the sixth
ever MLB World Tour in Tokyo since 2000 and
the earliest regular season start in Major League
history; as I write this, I imagine the Cubs are in the
clubhouse at the Tokyo Dome showering, dressing
and getting their things ready to head to the airport
and catch their flight back to Arizona, where they’ll
continue Cactus League play on Friday at Sloan Park
in Mesa; I’m trying to think what the mood on the long
flight back across the Pacific will be; sure, there will be
an air of disappointment having lost both games, but
also a sense of exhilaration having had the experience
of playing a history-making series in a faraway land
20MAR25 | ALL THESE MOVIES
All these movies—eighty-nine at last count
since the first of the year—are having what
I think to be a profound impact on me; it’s
a good thing, really, I feel my time is being
well spent and in the pursuit of enrichment,
enlightenment and entertainment, all three of
which I attain every single day, except on the
tenth of March, which was ten days after my
father passed away and the day, apparently, I
just couldn’t bring myself to watch a film as
it was the day may father’s passing had finally
sunk in and I wanted nothing more than to stay
in my bed and sleep; I have had more than a few
good laughs and certainly shed my fair share of
tears over these past few months as I continue to
discover the world through the eyes of others
21MAR25 | UNCOMMON GROUND
I suppose what’s hard for me to bear
witness to is the way you seem to shun
every opportunity for happiness; it’s
cliché to say, but you could have had it
all, but I guess it’s just not who you are
or the way you were brought up; what’s
an even harder pill for me to swallow is
how (a)pathetic you’ve become, robotic,
callous, indifferent, predictable; you have
certainly lost the lust for life you had when
we first met and now it seems your boat is
sinking and you’re determined to bring us
all down with you; I understand how it may
seem romantic to want to navigate the waters
alone, but it’s not who we were meant to be;
so much uncommon ground beneath our feet
22MAR25 | SPAIN
My first true love, Spain; from the moment I
landed on that crisp Sunday morning in October
of 1987, you stole my heart and right there and
then the seed was planted for what would become
a love affair that would last a lifetime; it’s hard to
believe I’ve now been away as many years as I
lived there, it seems like only yesterday when I
was a young man walking down the cobblestone
streets in Granada, or playing with my children in
the parque de amigos in Valencia, watching them
take their first steps on the Malvarrosa boardwalk
and in that hotel lobby in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter;
I long to be reunited with my first love and live out
my days in her tranquil, sunny countryside where fresh
air and the smell of jasmine and orange blossom fill
my senses with everlasting joy, love and contentment
23MAR25 | A FATHER’S LOVE
I love my children dearly (as any father would),
but I have come to understand that my children
will never love me as much as they love their
mothers, and I’m okay with that; you see, my
children’s mothers need their love more than I
do; these women, born and raised in ordinary
candlelit Catholic families in Holland and
Spain grew up teased and insecure and left
to fend for themselves, achieving academic
excellence, receiving numerous degrees in
graduate and doctoral studies; but it was love
that was lacking from their lives and from the
few relationships they had had, and so was any
semblance of self-esteem; I, in sharp contrast, have
always loved myself, not dependent on the love of
others; not selfish, simply out of intrinsic necessity
24MAR25 | DECISIONS
When it comes to decisions, I’m not
always quick to make them and when
I do, I frequently regret the ones I’ve
made; and sometimes I make decisions
impulsively, which isn’t always a bad
thing (or a good thing); and sometimes
when confronted with having to make
a decision, it feels like the last thing I
want to do at that moment in time; so
yesterday I made a series of extremely
hasty decisions, and not only were they
about issues concerning me, but decisions
made that effected the lives and livelihoods
of other people; and today, it may be too
late to rescind those decisions and I will
be forced to accept their consequences
25MAR25 | SPRINGTIME
I suppose I should just be happy
having survived another winter;
that the days are growing longer
and now that all traces of drugs
seem to have been flushed from
my body and that my body seems
to be functioning as good or even
better than it did before makes me
feel even better; better that I have
newfound clarity and an overall
improvement in vim and vigor, so
much so that I am walking again and
taking more sun and fresh air and,
as it may seem, emerging from the
deep funk of winter, from the throes
of death, darkness, despair and delirium
26MAR25 | THE GIRL AND THE APPLE
I was waiting for my daughter outside
of her school, Wednesday is a short,
half day; when I was a kid, we used
to call those in-service days; so there
I am standing outside the school and
a little girl, no older than five or six,
runs out of the school building with
an apple in her hand, passes off her
backpack to her baldheaded, bearded
father and proceeds to take a bite out
of her apple while walking to retrieve
her bicycle; trying to pull her bike out
with one hand (lest the apple should
jar free from her grasp), she trips and
the apple falls to the ground covered
in dirt; she cried for nearly five minutes
27MAR25 | IN BLACK AND WHITE
I’ve watched two old black and white
English films in as many days, one
made in 1948 and the other in 1957;
coincidentally the very same year my
favorite Hollywood music film Pal
Joey, was released (in Technicolor);
another coincidence is that the story
lines of the two British films in question,
The Fallen Idol (‘48) and Woman in a
Dressing Gown (‘57) both were about
marital infidelity, that’s to say, the two
male protagonists both had lovers for
who they wanted to leave their wives
to be with; these were brilliant films,
films that told stories of the everyday
life that everyday life often conceals
28MAR25 | I WANT A URINAL
The first time I ever saw a bidet was
at my aunt Shirley’s house in Encino;
then years ago, at a hotel in Madrid on
my very first night in Spain in the fall
of 1987 (I employed said bidet to store
my toiletries and to wash out my socks
and underwear as my grandfather had
taught me to do while traveling); when
I later moved to Spain in the summer of
1996, we had not one but two bidets in
our apartment (as most Spanish bathrooms
do); and while I never used the bidet––well
perhaps once or twice to soak my feet!––
and while they are not commonplace in
the Netherlands, what I would like is a
urinal; that fixture would be most welcome
29MAR25 | IT'S BEEN A MONTH NOW
It’s been a month now, since dad left us;
a month since I spoke to him just hours
before he passed and some fifty-five
years since he transformed from being
uncle Bob to daddy; it’s been a month
since mom said why don’t you try talking
to him and suddenly he appeared there
on my phone with an oxygen tube in his
nose and glassy eyes that seemed to see
right through me and into the depths of
my soul; I talked to him like it was any
other day, any other moment in time and
then I said goodbye for the last time; it’s
been a month now that he’s been gone, I’ve
thought about him, dreamed about him and
now I go on like we all go on…without him
30MAR25 | I HATE HOWARD BRAMSON
Howard was a boyhood friend; we met at Clinton
Elementary in the second grade (about 1970 for
historical context); Howard was the first friend I’d
had who invited me to his house, the first friend who
had a dog (a little Schnauzer named Stein), and the
first friend whose parents (Donna and David, both of
blessed memory) got divorced; in 1976, Howard and
I had a falling out (I broke a solemn promise I made
never to reveal his middle name (Ned) to anyone and
I did (he chased me all the way home from Hebrew
school but I took refuge in my mother’s car as she
forgot to lock the doors!); we didn’t speak again until
five years later at our senior prom when we crossed
paths in the bathroom and he said Aren’t you going to
introduce me to your date? And I hate him (figuratively)
because he hasn’t gained a single pound since high school
31MAR25 | FAREWELL TO MARCH
I’m hoping no one—or nothing else—dies in
what remains of the month of March; it's been
a month of loss: dad died at the beginning, my
new business expansion crashed in the middle,
and I’m hoping to get through these last fifteen
hours scot-free; it would be poignant, almost
romantic if another minor tragedy evolved as
they usually do at the end of months, but I am
confident I’ll look back at this tomorrow morning
thankful, optimistic and ready to move forward
with new plans and a renewed sense of purpose;
my latest project is moving along, albeit still in
the planning stages; I’m confident that I have a
winner and that it may become one of the best,
most successful of my life’s hairbrained schemes;
midnight is closer now and the future is ablaze