POEMOGRAPHY | 2023
Poems by R.M. Usatinsky
pōəˈmäɡrəfē, noun: form or process of writing and representing poetry
MAY
01MAY23 | 149 OVER 90
I'm fifty days shy of my 60th birthday
but I've already received my first gift,
an angiotensin-converting enzyme
inhibitor called Enalapril, or anal april
as I shall always remember it by, due to
the fact that this past month of April was
shoved up my ass harder and farther than
any shitty month in recent memory; the
stress and the pressures of everyday life
finally got to me, and my doctor, while
perfectly aware of my aversion to taking
medication of any kind, insisted I begin
treatment for high blood pressure posthaste,
also insisting that I forego the usual reading
of the patient package insert listing the possible
adverse effects; why are you sad? my GP asked
as a few wayward tears escaped from the corner of
my left eye; I was too choked up to answer and sat
for a moment quietly trying to regain my composure
before slowly lifting my head and offering a sullen smile
02MAY23 | THE REKINDLING
Everything is in its jubilant moment of
rebirth; the spring with her bright and
blooming flora, lovers walking hand in
hand down tree-lined boulevards where
birds sing and sunlight encroaches upon
shady backstreets; luminescent clouds
brighten the pale blue sky and everything
I see reminds me of you; but your voice
remains in the winds of yesterday and all I
can remember about you are faint memories;
your skin and hair and the way your lips slightly
parted as you slept naked and warm within my
cool linen sheets; so why can't I feel you now?
surely my imagination is capable of such vivid
reminiscences, transcending time and space and
the distance of longing; I keep reaching out to
you but my weary arms never seem to get close
enough to touch you and all I am left to do is
dream about this tender rekindling of embers,
still glowing hot from the flames of the past
03MAY23 | VIGNETTES
It's true there are things I don't remember
about our time in Valencia; but the vague
recollections do come back and do become
clearer with time and subtle encouragement;
the afternoon at Juanma's is crystal clear, all
except the kiss in the kitchen, though it does
occupy a space deep within my memory (or
at least in my heart's deepest recollections);
and the first night we made love and the more
than awkward trip we made to the cornerstore
to acquire necessary accoutrements once we
discovered that there were none to be found;
and the most sullen of all memories when I
innocently stumbled upon your diary whilst
looking for something or another in Ellie's
bedroom then reading about your Paris tryst;
but mostly, those remembrances are warm
and tender and now all that remains is my
deep-seated desire to see you again and to
be given the chance that the past denied us
04MAY23 | PAT MANN
It's not that I don't believe in angels or ghosts
or magic or other esoteric concepts, I've just
never really given much credence to any of
these things and tend to let them slip on by;
and when I saw his name on my agenda, I
knew immediately that something was awry
and, as I do when I doubt the veracity of a
potential client, I send a pre-payment advice;
and when our new man(n) didn't remit the
advice, I sent a final notice containing my
polite warning of canceling his appointment
should payment in full not be made by noon;
when his payment finally appeared, I saw his
real name, confirming my suspicion that the
name he used for his booking was fabricated;
he arrived and we talked and he told me he was
born in Mexico and had lived for some years in
Valencia; there were other coincidences and he
eerily reminded me of my son; Mexico,Valencia,
my son; perhaps it was indeed a visit from an angel
05MAY23 | CINCO DE MAYO
Cinco de Mayo, a day of pride
for Mexico, its history can't hide;
against the French they fiercely fought,
and in the end victory, courageously wrought;
Mariachis play, the streets are filled
with joy and laughter the air is thrilled,
tacos, tequila, enchiladas and guacamole,
are served to celebrate this holiday wholly
from Puebla to Tijuana, the party goes on,
honoring the bravery of those who had won;
those who fought for freedom, for land,
united against the enemy they took a stand;
with flags waving high and colors bright,
Mexican hearts beat with passion and might,
and on this day they remember their past,
how they overcame and remained steadfast;
let's raise our glasses and cheer with pride
for the Mexican people who bravely defied
the odds against them emerging victorious,
on this Cinco de Mayo a day so glorious
06MAY23 | CORONATION DAY
It was most certainly a sight to see
the coronation of King Charles Three;
a typically rainy and dreary London day
the skies overhead misty, cloudy and grey;
there was no lack of pomp and circumstance
rows ten-deep of Royal onlookers eager to
catch a glance; horse-drawn carriages and
all, gowns, crowns, scepters three-feet tall;
I got all caught up in the pageantry and the
dazzling displays of gallantry; shed a few
tears as I remembered the few years I lived
in England's pleasantry; and I know there are
many who take exception to the idea of a royal
procession, but the Monarchy will surely persevere
as they cost taxpayers but the price of a beer and
history will protect its own invention, that is clear;
it can't be easy living in the limelight or the ever-
critical eye of public opinion, but the King and his
dominions will outlast the minions of millions who
cackle and bay in sharp indignation on coronation day
07MAY23 | ENOUGH TIME
I wonder if there's still enough time left
to manage the traumas, insecurities and
egotism; time enough to learn to not be
so hard on myself, to love myself while
learning to love you and accepting all the
trials and tribulations and the seemingly
infinite challenges that come with that;
the distance, culture, language and the
ever-present difference in our ages and
the fact that the seventeen-year gap is
just as wide as the years since we last
held each other in that final embrace;
but the one constant is the past, though
it may seem to be both an asset as well
as a hindrance and will there be enough
time to overcome them both? and will
there be enough time to fall in love again,
to live again and to thrive again, to sow the
seeds that we planted all those years ago
that we left growing in the void of time
08MAY23 | BREATH
There is always a first and a last breath;
one that is taken away by a lanky German
kid in fourth grade who suckerpunches you
during an innocent game of Red Rover;
one that leaves you feeling elated after
seeing that tan-skinned girl in her orangey
sundress when you were fifteen and your
hormones were exploding every which way;
a breath of fresh air as you were introduced
by a friend to that shy girl with the ripped
Levi's and Dr. Martens sitting in the corner
hiding behind bangs of straight thick black hair;
made breathless by another who rubbed her
foot against your leg under the table in the
most romantically cliché thing anyone ever
did that sparked a romance which never ended;
then there is the last breath, the final exhalation,
the faint murmur of the names of your children,
parents and the lover who has stood beside you all
these years, who has made this moment triumphant
09MAY23 | FLOODGATES
It came over me so suddenly
floodgates of tears bursting
from my eyes, out of nowhere
from the very pit of my soul;
perhaps it was the overwhelming
din of those college students who
boarded the number one tram at
or the longing that is eating away
at my heart, so desperate to touch
you and to hold you in my arms until
I simply cannot feel my arms anymore;
but those were different tears, tears that
questioned everything, seeking out answers
and wondering why there is no longer any
love in my home (has there ever been?);
so, I walked there down lamp-lit streets,
pathetic, alone and lonely, wondering if
this is what destiny had in mind when we
struck that deal all those years ago in a dream
10MAY23 | SLOW BURN
I suppose I should confess that I am not
falling in love with you and quite simply
it just isn’t possible as that would imply
that at some point, at some moment in time
during the past decade and a half that I fell
out of love with you which, upon careful
reflection, I do not believe I have or ever
did (not even when you suggested that
Natalia was in love with me and thought
I should pursue that romance); now how
could I not have fallen in love with you
if not for only suggesting I fall in love
with someone else? but I suppose those
were confusing times, time when the
slow burn of romance was heating up,
igniting fires where embers once lingered;
and now, all these years later, the smoke has
cleared and the smoldering remains of charred
sentiments are alight, blazing in hearts longing
to reunite in a firestorm of passion and desire
11MAY23 | RECONCILIATION
I'm not sure if I'll actually get on that
train to Brussels this evening or make
it to the venue where you're performing,
but the motivation and desire are there;
I suppose there are many ways this dismal
chapter in our lives can segue into the next,
but pages don't turn by themselves and the
future is always more promising than the past;
so, it comes down to me and the decision I
shall make, not that it's a difficult one or one
I have to give much thought to; but we've
become strangers in so many ways and I
don't tend to fare well with strangers and
perhaps, as I might suspect, you don't
either; I've told myself a million times
during the past three years that things
could never be the same again, go back to
the way they once were; but maybe that's
not such a bad thing after all, and maybe
just this once, tomorrow is all that matters
12MAY23 | YOUR ONLY SON, POP
Olivier's scene in The Jazz Singer is one I've
played over and over in my mind these past
few years; he tells his son, played by Neil
Diamond, "I have no son," then proceeds to
rip his jacket and tearfully recite the Mourner's
Kaddish: "Yisgadal v'yiskadash sh'may rabbah...;"
as he leaves, Diamond pleads with the old man
in Yiddish: "I'm your only son, pop;" the film, as
films tend to often do, ends with Olivier and
Diamond reconciling their differences; but that's
the movies and I'm not so hopeful that the real life
drama will play out the same way; the sting of what
you've become with your desecrated skin and once
beautiful mind defiled by that old headshrinker's spew,
purloining your every ounce of common sense and
reason; and what kind of man scorns his own flesh
and blood?; sisters who adored and looked up to you;
maybe one day you’ll leave a few small pebbles on my
headstone and shed a few even smaller tears when you
come to realize what an absolute calamity you created
13MAY23 | WHIRLWINDS
It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of life,
putting myself at the center of the universe where
it’s just as easy to focus so devotedly on my own
one-man shitshow that I tend to completely lose
focus on everything—and everyone—else; but that
doesn’t mean I don’t think about you or yearn (every
moment of every day) to reach out to you, to not only
be a part of your world, but to be a part of you; and
while these whirlwinds toss me about and alter my
grounding, they bring me closer to understanding that
you and me and the universe are one, inextricably bound
to the prospect of remaining a self-perpetuating entity of
love and desire and longing; now I know that all sounds
quite lofty and perhaps even slightly ambiguous, but
what really matters is presence, the fact that I am here,
that you are here and that we are a we in spite of all
the obstacles and the myriad of challenges that would
suggest otherwise; and what fate or destiny or the future
can never deny is that we exist, we shared a moment in
time that may never come again and may never need to
14MAY23 | BREAKING OUT
It’s time to let go and break free from all these
recurring patterns in my life; break away from
negative people and the flow of toxicity that
has all but left me in this near-death state;
I know I should have broken out years ago, but
life in the comfort zone seemed, well, comforting
and moving on and breaking out was simply too
discombobulating and angst-inducing at the time;
and now, I've made this odd rationalization and I
look at my life in a seasonal sort of way; spring:
the season of my birth; summer: the season of my
youth; autumn: the season of my coming of age;
and winter: the season of death and rebirth; and as
the cycles come and go, I find myself in a second
coming, a revival of my spirit and longing to live
life to its fullest and exploit my god-given gifts;
so, I will shed my coward's skin and drink of the
chalice of courage, follow the light and fly with the
angels; I will leave behind all that no longer serves me;
people and possessions that have held me back far too long
15MAY23 | MEET ME IN VALENCIA
Ours was the shortest of romances; measured
in hours and days and weeks and moments of
intense passion, pleasure and predictability; it
was a time of wild abandon and unbridled lust;
but there was more than merely two infatuated
lovers warmly entwined beneath sheets of cool
linen; there was a man and a woman on the cusp
of falling in love, breathing each other's desires;
and I admit, all these years later, to having been
so clearly emotionally unavailable, and you,
perhaps, about to burst forward into a life of
your own where I could have only held you back;
but what we had, what we shared, was magical; it
was children and dogs and food and long strolls
through the city, sitting innocently hand in hand
on the Puente del Mar's ancient stone benches;
we dreamed for a moment, contemplated what our
lives might be like together and our visions were not
that unalike; but it was easier to let go, and now I am
longing to meet you in Valencia, where our love was born
16MAY23 | THE PURPLE ROOM
I've always had my suspicions about what
exactly goes on in the purple room; sitting
up late in the small hours of the morning I
watch shadowy figures moving in darkness;
I always knew there was something strange
about her, she didn't fit in, didn't look like
her contemporaries; and that husband and
those weird twins! quite frankly, they are
all like characters out of a Tim Burton film
or a J.K. Rowling novel; she, tall and lanky
with hollowed out cheeks and a wrinkled
smoker's face making her look much older
than she probably is; he's equally as gangly
and reminds me somewhat of the kind of
person we'd call a "redneck" back in the U.S.;
they actually look like they could be siblings;
they've been divorced for years now and she
shares the flat with her two daughters, but I
wonder who those men are I see making their
way to the purple room in the cover of night
17MAY23 | GIVING YOU AN OUT
I thought I would give you this one final chance;
an out, a way to simply walk away without any
looking back, no remorse and no hard feelings;
because you should know what you're in for;
I'm not the man I used to be, the man you fell
for all those years ago; in fact, I'm barely a
shadow of that man whose vigor is fading,
whose life is waning and whose hopes are
clinging to slowly melting dreams, melting
like the ice cream cone my grandfather once
bought for me at Morse Avenue beach when
I was a child, so delighted to finally have the
ice cream cone I begged him for that I danced
about so fervently the cone fell from my hand
onto the sand; I watched it melt with tears in
my eyes, the same tears I'm crying now, tears
of angst and of self-pity; this won't be easy for
you and what you'll witness will take more love,
patience and fortitude than I could ever ask for or
expect, so I'm giving you one last chance to retreat
18MAY23 | THE SMOKER'S CONUNDRUM
The scope of human intelligence, and when I
say human, I'm suggesting the average man,
whose knowledge and perception of reality is
limited to a pinhead span of minuscule size;
his universe is an imploded chasm of blunt
indifference and impropriety; he sees only
what he knows and is incapable of looking
for reason beyond his sphere of understanding;
the smoker, for example, by far humanity's most
incomprehensible figure, whose mode of behavior
is exhaustingly antisocial and uncommonly offensive,
defines their act by inhaling a chemical compound
ignited by fire into their lungs via the lips, mouth,
throat and respiratory system then exhaling said
substance in the form of smoke and fumes and
the foulest smelling noxious whiff of yuck one
could possibly imagine; but by far the most bizarre
aspect of the smoker's practice is placing the cigarette
in the side of the mouth during inhalation so as to not
stain the front teeth as the compounds enter the mouth
19MAY23 | THREE A.M.
I was wide awake lying in my bed
wondering if I’ll ever wake up at
three a.m. and find you lying next
to me, your soft warm skin gently
pressed against mine and your breath
quietly whispering to me; before this
year comes to end, I will hold you in
my arms; and should Christmas Eve
bring Ricky Nelson’s fate, so be it,
know that my heart was pure; oddly
enough as I sat alone at the table this
morning eating pancakes and eggs, I
began whistling “Seventy-Six Trombones;”
as I closed my eyes, the sun shining brightly
through their lids, I pictured myself at the
arrivals terminal at Juárez and seeing you
through the glass, waiting anxiously, biting
your bottom lip and occasionally smiling as
the exit door periodically opened and a new
batch of weary travelers emerged from within
20MAY23 | LAST LOOKS
I’m starting to look at things as if I
were seeing them for the last time;
the skies look bluer and the leaves
seemed greener than my eyes have
ever seen them; and there’s something
in your voice that I never heard before,
a gentle tenderness, it might even be love,
love for me and love for who I am, or, at
least, for who I was all those years ago;
and everything makes me weep, every
film I see, internet memes, stupid TikTok
videos and movie trailers; and of course
the notes you write to me, the things you
say and sentiments you share, photos of
you and your sons, emojis and GIFS that
all seem to suggest that perhaps all this
time that I'd been waiting (and wasting)
looking for something has actually found
me; or maybe it was the last look I had of
myself in the mirror that changed everything
21MAY23 | ANXIOUS CONTEMPLATIONS
We could have been be like two drops of water
in the ocean who are drawn from the sea as vapor
sent high above to the clouds where our love
rained down upon everything and everyone;
it seems the novelty and luster of this newly
reborn romance is beginning to fade, which
I suppose is how things go, but I'm a sucker
for smooth sailing and happy endings; and I
thought to myself maybe just this once I was
worth the trouble, worth the time and effort,
possessing some rare quality that someone
might actually appreciate and want to exploit;
what if thirty days was all we were ever meant
to have? what if there will be no Mexico City or
Nerja or long talks that dissolve into our falling
asleep in each other's arms?; and I can't help but
wonder if you fall asleep in someone else's arms,
not that it's any of my business as you are certainly
entitled to do so and rightly deserving of affection
and carnal pleasures and the visceral delights of bliss
22MAY23 | THANK YOU (GOODBYE)
Thank you for reminding me that if it
seems too good to be true it probably is;
thank you for coming back into my life, it
served to remind me why I let you leave;
thank you for making me see the only way to
communicate connectively is with the human voice;
thank you for showing me that walking alone is
infinitely better than running with shadows;
thank you for letting me understand that words
don't mean anything without actions;
thank you for being my muse long enough
for me to realize I never really needed one;
thank you for pretending you cared so I
could learn more about trust and honesty;
thank you for saying you loved me, I now
know that love has nothing to do with anything;
thank you for holding the mirror up to me; it's
been a long time since I've seen my own splendor;
thank you for the memories that we will never
share, they were better off as dreams; (goodbye)
23MAY23 | LABOR OF LOVE
Someone asked me the other day how many
followers I have on social media who read
my poems everyday; I quickly responded:
about three or four, five if you include me;
they thought it was strange that I would invest
the time to write a poem every single day then
record a minute-or-so-long video and post it
online; what do you get out of it? they asked;
after thinking about it for a few seconds I
answered: nothing, I get absolutely nothing
out of it except for the pleasure of doing it;
I explained that it was a labor of love, that
writing poetry was something I've done since
I was eleven when I discovered that creating
little poems helped me to relax and overcome
the exhausting tediousness of Mrs. English's
fourth grade class at DeWitt Clinton Elementary;
it was my escape into a world of words and ideas
that I only seemed able to express in short verses,
verses that all but saved me from a dire childhood
24MAY23 | BORN TO DO THIS
I'll admit it, I'm the nervous type, especially
when it comes to performing; I fronted a new
wave band in L.A. in the 1980s and there was
nothing I loved more than playing live shows;
but my nerves were so racked before each
gig, my poor cousin Ross took to ordering
a few Kamikazes for me to shoot before
going on stage to help calm me down;
the shots did serve their intended purpose,
but seeing how I wasn't a drinker at all, the
effects of drunkenness surfaced almost at
once, which may or may not have been to
my advantage as a singer and guitarist; but
the show went on and the butterflies in my
stomach tapered off and, although somewhat
tipsy and giggly, I made it through the set;
and when I think about what is to come with
my latest project––a one-man musical, of all
things––what keeps me grounded is my telling
myself that I was born to do this...and I will
25MAY23 | RENUNCIATION (PROLOGUE)
We don't choose our birthplace, the
borders within whose imaginary lines
we come into this life; as children we're
told to pledge allegiance with hand over
heart without ever questioning why; in
other words, I am an American not by
choice, but simply because I was born in
a fairytale land to a mother whose
mother had fled with her mother from the
unrest and cruelty of barbaric times in a
faraway place where being a Jew was
scorned, where your god and your customs
and language and the clothes you wore
and the trade by which you made your
meager living were ridiculed; where your
great-grandfather hid beneath an outhouse
for days with a festering bullet wound in his
hand as his shtetl was ransacked by insurgent
troops; so, today I begin the process of turning
back time and returning to my ancestral identity
26MAY23 | RENUNCIATION (PART ONE)
I'm not sure if the steps I take today will
be the first steps of a new journey or the
final steps of an old one; in either case,
I will attend my 9:50 appointment at the
town hall with cautious optimism, with
the hope that in the end I will, in some
way, emerge with a new perspective on
identity and how (or how not) that stiff
official cardboard booklet really can (or
cannot) alter one's identification; I will
also state here, without any reservations,
that I do not feel that I am giving up
anything, if anything, I am moving up,
taking my life to a new, higher plane, to
a place where I have chosen to be, a place
whose destination has been my own personal
Manifest Destiny; and while I may be addressed
by a new and different demonym in the future,
I'll still possess the same heart, soul and blunt
sensibilities I did when I was that other denizen
27MAY23 | SHAMPOO
I don't actually consider myself as being
someone who believes in the esotericisms
of the universe; Kabbalah, tarot, astrology,
alchemy and the like, but every now and
again, the universe throws me a curveball to
remind me that there are forces out there, when
aligned, that certainly compel me to look at life
in a different light, to contemplate what appears
inconceivable; uneventfully, I acquired a bottle
of shampoo the other day, it was bundled in a
small batch of hair pomade that I bought from
a fellow barber who was going out of business;
insignificant as it was as I never sell shampoo,
that very evening a Romanian gentleman (with
a nearly bald crown) walked into my shop with
two attractive women and asked if I sold shampoo;
that, in fact, is something that never happens, but it
did; the man bought the only bottle of shampoo I've
ever had and have ever sold, reminding me that the
universe is the one constant that I should trust implicitly
28MAY23 | RECOVERY
I've been contemplating solitude and surrender,
a state of being in which my mind and body will
undertake to recover and rejuvenate my spirit and
overall well being; I am putting blame aside, I am
banishing the past and looking forward to a future
where there is serenity and love without the drama
of necessity; while I cannot undo all that has been
done, I can learn to live my life again, to re-build
what has been broken, to rekindle that which has
been extinguished and to find forgiveness in myself
and regain my inner trust and self-respect; the days
are waning and time is becoming an intangible foe;
there are things to be done, sunsets to contemplate,
dreams to bring to the forefront of my existence and
immerse me in their deluge of translucent hope and
cleanse my life force in pools of flowing rainwater;
what will resurface will be the undeniable yearning to
recover, to make whole again what has been reduced
to insignificance, to take back what was lost and has
now reemerged in the slow fading afterglow of my life
29MAY23 | DISCOVERY
What if our existence is merely a dream?
our lives an imagined state of make-believe;
a never-ending technicolor daydream with real
pain, happiness and broad experiences, love and
hate, wars and art, music and film; I suppose
whether life is conceptualized or not, we live
it, experience it in the first person and it firmly
impacts our supposed reality from the day we
are born until the day we die; so, I guess it really
doesn't matter if it's all an illusion or not, and if
we discovered it was, how would that change things
and how would that alter the reality of the dream?
I, for one, would simply let it go, continue with the
status quo, live my life as I'd always done but with
one significant difference: I would anticipate the
end in ways I'd never done before as someone who
has always feared death, dreaded the torment, pain
and mystery of life's end; I would then welcome it,
await its salvation and uncertainty in ways I could
never have fathomed believing life was preordained
30MAY23 | ADDICTION
Somehow my life has been blessed with the
omission of addiction; I'm the odd man out
who has never smoked, never experimented
with recreational drugs or abused alcohol;
my reason has always been what I call "the
scaredy cat syndrome," always too afraid to
not be in control, horrified by all I have seen
bearing witness to other people's addictions;
but what about obsession? that is something
I can talk about; of the myriad of symptoms
of the ADHD brain, obsessing over things is
high on my list, especially songs and movies;
this delightful phenomenon is referred to as
hyperfocusing and leads me to play the same
song (in my case it's usually a music video)
over and over again for months (or longer!);
same with films as I have this peculiar way of
confounding the conundrum of falling asleep by
playing the same film each night on an iPad slung
over my headboard, hastening my drifting off to sleep
31MAY23 | AN UNHAPPY MILESTONE
I tend to look back over my life, as I imagine
we all do, as a series of milestones, watershed
moments that represent the best and the worst,
the happiest and saddest of the scores of life
events which define the whole of our existence;
today I experienced an unhappy milestone, the
first time that my 90-year-old father, who has
been living with Parkinson's for more than a
decade (maybe even closer to two), did not
recognize me on our video call; it was quite a
somber moment as my mother and my father's
caregiver tried zealously, though in vain, to
prompt dad into remembering whose face it
was on the small smartphone screen before
him; "who were we talking about yesterday?"
my mother asked him; "who is that? Mr. Bob?"
asked the caregiver in a thick Jamaican accent;
after some coaxing, dad finally mumbled my
name: "it's Ricky," he said with a frail, toothless
voice, "you look good for an old man," he quipped