Mushrooms, Symphonies, and Bureaucrats

Editors petitioning yours truly for more poems (dramatization)

Continuing the biblical and Classical allusions here at Lo Specchio e La Spunga, that we all know and love, there are three poems of mine up at the Gideon Poetry Review.

Not to Be Confused with My Actual CV

Try to find the classical allusions in my poem "Preserved in Fragments"

Two poems of mine are in the publication Call Me [Brackets]. The first is called C.V.  but isn't actually my CV. Just to reiterate in case it messes with my SEO, it's just a poem, not a list of qualifications and accomplishments. The second is "Preserved in Fragments," and it requires no special warning.

The Poems Come and Go, Including Mine

The Winter Issue 2018 of Come and Go Literary. It includes a poem of mine named Results of Service Not Found. Thanks to Nick Campanella for putting together the issue with everyone's work in it.

A Collective of Poems in Collective Unrest

Five poems of mine are up at Collective Unrest. They are of a political nature. One is about Redlining, and the rest are from a series I've been working on called "La Resistance." I started them after Trump's inauguration. The title is partially a self-deprecating joke.

The Song of the Mad Prince: A Portrait

Okay, I know he was a King

A poem of mine with the same name as the title above was published in Bindweed Magazine. Read, interpret, misinterpret, and enjoy it.

Eight Poems in Zombie Logic Review

One poem in Zombie Logic Review? No. Two poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. Three poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. Four poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. Five poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. Six poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. Seven poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. Eight poems in Zombie Logic Review? No. I mean, yes! Eight of my poems in Zombie Logic Review right here.

At Least It's an Ethos

Two poems of mine are in the latest issue of the Ethos Literary Journal, a publication out of India. Read them and read the other writers in the issue, perhaps during Thanksgiving in between courses and conversations.

Three Poems Hot, Three Poems Cold, Three Poems in Porridge, a Couple Days Old

I'm Not Golda Meir

Three poems of mine are in the journal Porridge. It's based in Britain. Of particular note is "A Votive Is Prepared." This poem was formed from interviews given by Norman Mailer over the years.

Dividing Lines

The flag of Birmingham, England

Not Blurred Lines, but Dividing Lines is the topic of today's bog post. More specifically, the poem of that title. It's featured in Constellate Magazine and it's by Ben Nardolilli. Who is also me. Go over and read it. It's like traveling to Birmingham, England, which is the name of the city where Constellate is based.

A Bump and a Huff of Poetry

Another month, another poem. Barren Magazine might be sparse in spirit and vision, but isn't barren of my work, not anymore. My work, A Bump and a Huff, is there for your reading pleasure.

Also, I was bored the other day and felt like doing some compiling and comparing. So here's my 2018 PRESIDENTIAL RANKINGS!!!

Abraham Lincoln

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Theodore Roosevelt

George Washington

Harry S. Truman

Thomas Jefferson

James K. Polk

Lyndon B. Johnson

Dwight D. Eisenhower

Woodrow Wilson

Barack Obama

Andrew Jackson

John F. Kennedy

Ronald Reagan

Bill Clinton

James Monroe

John Adams

William McKinley

James Madison

Ulysses S. Grant

William H. Taft

George Bush

John Quincy Adams

Chester A. Arthur

Jimmy Carter

Grover Cleveland

Calvin Coolidge

Martin Van Buren

Benjamin Harrison

Gerald R. Ford

John Tyler

James A. Garfield

Millard Fillmore

Zachary Taylor

William Henry Harrison

Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Richard M. Nixon

Warren G. Harding

Franklin Pierce

Herbert Hoover

Donald J. Trump

George W. Bush

Andrew Johnson

James Buchanan

A Bloody Poem

Well it's more about blood. Specifically the word. BLOOD. How it looks, how it sounds, and the way it makes me feel. That word. Blood. Yes. BLOOD.

Anyway, it's at Founder's Favourites in their October issue.

An Aberrant Blogpost

Jason Peters and his Aberrant Literature Press have recently published an anthology of short fiction, and a story of mine "The Sick-Alike" is included. You can get a copy of it here at Amazon.

A Coney Island Avenue Blogpost of the Mind

The King of the Dudes

Hello, there! Hello September! Hell Autumn! Hello (Hopefully coming soon) cold weather. Right now I'm sweating and dealing with prickly heat. But I've got two poems in Bye, Bye, Nite. One is called Coney Island Avenue. The other is called Anarcho-Dandyism (hence the pic above).

Poet of the Week: Christine Stoddard

My friend Christine Stoddard was interviewed by Brooklyn Poets. She discusses her life, work, and the communities she's lived in. Oh, and she mentions a young poet living in Brooklyn and who writes for this blog.

Nardo Goes West, Part Four

After my first night on the train I woke up to North Dakota in all its broad splendor.  Sure, there were plenty of cereal crops across the horizon, but all lots of small ponds, perhaps left by the retreat of glaciers many thousands of years ago. They were all in use by various birds. I don't think I've ever seen so many ducklings. I'm just used to pigeons in New York City. They're never old or young. they're always middle-aged adults, just like the people in the sitcoms that take place there.

I looked over the instructions and the metal pieces sticking out of the furniture. I figured out how to put the bed back and turn it into seats, how to turn the seats into a bed, and how to lower the bunk. I used the last trick in case I needed something that could serve as a shelf. I decided to leave the bed down. That way I could sit up or lay down to work or read. I preferred to lie down. Why? Because I could feel the motions of the train sliding under me. When I looked to the side, I could see the world flying on by and it was easy to imagine I was flying too, like some kind of Amtrak superman.

Most of what I saw involved agriculture of one kind or another. It was interesting to be so close to the food supply, at least as grain, dairy, and meat are concerned. I didn't see much in the way of fruit or vegetable production until we reached Washington. Not only did I see the crops, I saw how the crops get to market. There were silos everywhere and occasionally I saw train cars getting filed with the bounty they stored inside.

Where last night's steak came from

This is where last night's dinner may have gotten its lunch from.
It could be anywhere from Fargo to Missoula 

For breakfast, I had a quesadilla with eggs and green tomatillo sauce. It was the only thing on the menu that looked like it had any kick to it. My suspicions were confirmed when the two gentleman I sat with ordered eggs and then ordered salsa to put on them after they saw my dish in all its glory.

This dish is called the Battle of Puebla, because the Mexican
quesadilla is displacing the occupying French Croissant

There is plenty of salsa to go around (I had an extra container of red salsa in addition to what was on my plate) so don't be afraid to ask! During breakfast I sat with two older gentlemen. One was from North Dakota, near Rugby, the other was from Juneau, Alaska. The man from North Dakota was a doctor for an Indian Reservation and talked about the health challenges facing the local tribes because of sugary foods, in addition to alcohol. He also told us the various legends and stories (and I assume jokes) behind how Devils Lake got its name. He also pointed out the different kinds of birds and mentioned the area was popular with hunters. The traveler from Juneau asked the man from North Dakota what he liked about living there. He laughed and said it was because there were no people.

After breakfast, I went to the observation car, to well, observe. The sky was clear above me and the land was fertile in all directions. With nothing else to distract me, or even tempt me, I saw and looked out at the country rolling on by.

The upper windows

North Dakota, not to be confused with South Dakota

Rugby, North Dakota. It's the geographical center of North America

We passed through several small cities and large towns such as Rugby and Minot. It was probably the farthest I've ever been from the ocean. I live right near Ruby Road in Brooklyn and I guess I can sum up my summer as going from Rugby Road to Rugby town. When I think about it, more people probably live on that street than live in Rugby, North Dakota. Okay, that's enough talking about Rugby or rugby.

We continued moving through North Dakota and into Montana. I saw Fort Union, which straddles the boundary between the two states.

Fort Union, preserving the uneasy peace between
Montana and North Dakota

We reached Wolf Point by lunchtime. Next to it was the Fort Peck Indian Reservation. I had lunch with an Australian couple from Brisbane. They were on a trip around the world. Like me, they were yearning to see the mountains, especially any with snow on them. They told me they don't get to see much of either in Australia. I had a tortilla dish with chorizo while the couple had the mussels. Despite our distance from the sea, they said the shellfish was good. According to our waitress, the mussels are the secret dish that nobody orders but those who do always enjoy. I didn't mind my meal. It seems the most interesting options for eating on the train involve Mexican cooking. Well, at least until they bring back the gnocchi. I had the caramel parfait for dessert.

I hung around my roomette car after lunch. Working, taking pictures, and reading as we went through the great expanse of Montana. People forget how big the state is (number four). Near Malta, the train had to go through a "duck and tuck" in order to let a freight train get by. We often had to manuever around them on the trip. Pretty soon, Carlo was coming around to take dinner reservations. He continued to promote it with the phrase "real meals with real people." I put in a reservation for dinner with him for a later time 6:45. I had trouble getting power for my laptop, and with no signal for my phone, I decided to go to the observation car and have a drink.

Having wine on the train

More Montana. The state's name is a lie.

The new state capitol of Montana

Switching into Mountain Time

Sitting Bull

By this point I had enough with amber waves. I wanted purple mountains majesty!

But there were penguins

Maybe not the but certainly an Overlook Hotel

I had dinner with a couple from outside Fargo, ND and a woman originally from Minot, but who now lived outside Seattle. I had the risotto because there was no gnocchi, again. We all had wine with dinner. Some of it was corked, others had a screw-on (or off) cap. The risotto was decent. I had the fruit and cheese plate for dessert. I got a sense of how small a world North Dakota is because my dinner companions realized they had mutual acquaintances. I must say I've learned more about life in the Flickertail State on this trip than ever before. 

By the end of dinner we started to see the mountains. The real mountains. Not the lumpy hills of central Montana, but the real peaks of Glacier National Park. I spent the rest of the evening looking at the mountains and the tall trees that grow around them. At least until we lost all daylight. I admit I felt nervous around the evergreens growing by the rails. I wondered if they knew what we had done to their shorter cousins back East during Christmas time. Were they ready to lay their branches on us? I realized then I'd had too much wine.

More mountains

Unfortunately, I had to sleep through large parts of the trip through the mountains. When I woke up, I was on the other side of Glacier National Park. There were still plenty of visual glories awaiting me in the Cascades. I also had a phone signal for the first time in a day. At this point in the trip, the most of the sleeping cars had emptied out, at least on my level. I guess a number of people got off at Whitefish or Spokane. On my way to the shower, Carl, the sleeping car attendant, said I looked like a young John Hodgeman. This was the highlight of the trip, until we reached the next mountain range.

I had breakfast with a father and son from Janesville, Wisconsin. I saw orchards filled with pear and apple trees, as well as homesteads scattered around the shade of the mountain. I thought it looked like the end of the Oregon Trail and tried to see if I could find a tombstone with "pepperoni and cheese" on it. I wasn't in Oregon but the geography is similar.

We stopped in Leavenworth, which is supposed to look like a Bavarian village. I couldn't see it from the tracks. I did see Bigfoot though. I can't wait for my check from the National Enquirer.

The lounge car was closed, which was lame. I wonder if it was because it was no longer part of the train. In Spokane, the Empire Builder splits in half, just like Rome and Constantinople. My part of the train goes onto Seattle. The other half heads on to Portland. We get to keep the dining car, while the folks heading to Portland have to deal with a pre-made breakfast box. I stayed in my roomette for the rest of the trip. The views were good, except when we went into the Cascade Tunnel, the longest train tunnel in North America. It's 7.89 miles of darkness all the way through.

Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest

We began to make our descent towards the coast. My ears actually popped because of the change in air pressure. We went along rives and streams. I saw some of the bluest moving waters I've ever seen. 

The water out here makes Poland Spring look like backwash from
a spittoon used by an Antebellum Senator

Now it was time for the trip to come to an end. The Empire Builder reached Puget sound and traveled south along the shoreline. There were forest fires going on, so visibility was reduced. Even in the city you could see it. Everything seemed hazy and people wore masks over their mouths.

Puget Sound, it's foggy because of the wildfires going on

Finally, we came to Seattle and I saw several landmarks as the train snaked its way into the King Street Station.

The people of Seattle loved Frasier so much they built
a miniature version of the logo

I wonder if I could sell this picture to Getty images?

We pulled in with a slight delay. I went into the station and enjoyed its splendor, a far cry from the Pittsburgh station. I didn't check my bags, so I was able to pick up my things and head right out into the Emerald City.

Hello Seattle!

Overall, I would rate the experience highly, especially for a city-slicker such as myself. I got to see a lot of the country I've never seen before, met different kinds of people, and learned to adjust a different kind of lifestyle. Riding the train let me appreciate the countryside and the way that we as Americans use it. I wish the train did have WiFi on board. Not that I would've spent the whole time just watching old episodes of the Simpsons. It would've been nice to listen to some music while the country went by. I also wish there had been communication ahead of time about the lack of a sundries pack. Nevertheless, it was fun and (here it the survey answer) I would recommend the trip to my family and/or friends. Now it's time to try out the southern route from LA to New Orleans, or maybe head through the middle of the country through Denver.