Sigmund,A thoughtful child,Transcribes his dreamsOn his bedroom wallUsing a purple crayon. When he playsWith his die-cast carsPushing them across the rugHe can’t help but hearThe music of the spheres. Sigmund asks his mother:“Can we stay up late tonightAnd watch the stars come out?” Continue reading Sigmund, Surprised By Joy by Ron Kolm
Hitler, a small dark man,Reached a pinnacle of powerBecause of another small dark man,A man beloved by the masses:Famous in France as Charlot,In Japan and, yes, in Germany. Hitler knew what he was doingWhen he trimmed his moustacheto make it look almost exactlyLike Charlie Chaplin’s.I truly believe that the GermansWere following Charlie ChaplinIn their subconsciousWhen they goose-stepped offTo their fate. And it’s interesting to noteThat … Continue reading The Great Dictator by Ron Kolm
My wife got home from work and our youngest son ran over to her and yanked her sleeve. “Hey, Mommy, I saw Daddy on TV this afternoon,” he shouted. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she patted him on the head and told him to calm down. I had left the house early and headed over to … Continue reading Mystery Solved by Ron Kolm
I first met Philip Roth many years ago when I was working at Coliseum Books, on the corner of 57th Street and Broadway. Coliseum was one of the largest bookstores in Manhattan at the time and was the place to go if you were a serious lover of books. Coliseum was also at the top of the list of places to make an appearance for … Continue reading Philip Roth by Ron Kolm
didn’t start withTrump and Putin.Unfortunately, itGoes all the way backTo the dawn of man.Two males in a caveWaving their clubs aroundStare at each otherIn fear and envy.“Mine’s bigger,” one shouts.“No, mine is!” yells backThe other.And then they startBashing each other untilOnly one guy is left standing,One hand gripping his clubThe other cupping his manhood.He almost seems to smileAs he leaves to find some womenTo yell … Continue reading Penis Envy by Ron Kolm
For several weeksI worked in a small bookstore on the corner of West 10th and Bleeckerin Greenwich Village.One night a customer approached the cash register with a big stack of booksand asked if he could pay for them with a personal check.“Sure. But I have to see some ID.It’s the store policy,” I told him.“Isn’t this enough?” he asked, leaning forward and framing his face with his hands.I knew it was … Continue reading Armadillo Bookstore by Ron Kolm
In 1992 Jerry Brown,The liberal ex-governor of California,Ran against Bill ClintonIn the race to becomeThe Democratic nominee for PresidentOf the United States of America.He entered the New York primaryAnd came to New York City to campaign.While he was here he shoppedIn Coliseum Bookstore on 57th Street Surrounded by a phalanxOf Secret Service agents.When he approached the cash registerWith a pile of booksI leaned over from … Continue reading My Struggle by Ron Kolm
When I was working the cash registerin Eastside Bookstore on St. Mark’s Place in the mid-70s one of my favorite books to readbetween sales was Andy Warhol’s The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: (From A to B and Back Again).He was from Pennsylvania, and I was too, so I liked him for that.When he got shot in the FactoryI was totally shocked. I couldn’t believethat anyone would try to hurt him.Anyway, … Continue reading The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again) by Ron Kolm
I’d been going through a terrible time, separating from my wife, and everything I touched, broke.I was working in a bookstore on 8th Street in New York City,the only person on the night shift, barely hanging on to the job.Among the tasks I had to do every evening after closing was clean the bathroom.Late one night I accidentally knocked an empty vase off the back of the toilet sending it crashing into the porcelain bowlcreating … Continue reading Metamorphosis by Ron Kolm
We had terrible fights, with littlepeace between the conflagrations.When we finally split up, I tossedmy wedding band down a sewer gratehoping I’d broken the circleof never-ending pain. Recently,after too many White Russians,I told a friend what I’d done years ago.“Damn,” he said, “You should have sold itto a jewelry store in the Diamond District.”“Nope,” I confessed. “Every time I wentto 47th Street, it was to spend money.I would … Continue reading The Heart Cries Eternally by Ron Kolm
