tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81786981456668528562024-03-13T13:55:34.229-07:00Poems by Francy StollerPoems by Francy StollerFrancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-5065497775587736912012-06-01T17:15:00.000-07:002012-06-01T17:15:01.418-07:00The Foxes of Black Mountain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I wish the Iris<br />
and roses<br />
with the hundred lavander and yellow<br />
butterflies<br />
were in my garden<br />
the shelf<br />
down to the basement<br />
where the family of foxes<br />
live<br />
and the realator<br />
brought the couple down<br />
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now the property is off the market...</h4>
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</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-88239798988260364532012-03-05T06:25:00.000-08:002012-03-05T08:10:05.769-08:00When sleep Comes too easily/We wait to run up the hill/the fortunate gather cedar as they walk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dreams that repeat themselves-you never quite know if they happened -the one about the Department Store closing/these two floors have the sales/no one is in these areas-New York is a lonely town sometimes-the other is the room under the house in MaCaza-an elevator in the closet-sub-level-bureau filled w/ladies clothes/the Queen sized bed made made-If dreams are real but forgotton-why do they repeat-</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-3806138578547961452012-02-26T07:14:00.000-08:002012-03-05T08:10:49.290-08:00Paint for your life,this write of passage has me on my heels<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Lately I've revieved the scenario-We use each other -there I am and here you are-expecting the other to understand-but we don't know anymore-the isolation exposes our basic need of other people-you accuse me I 'm jealous-this dead end path leaves us frustrated and in a dreamworld which bases the past on the current. <strike><b></b></strike></blockquote>
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</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-27433234608515689082011-12-26T07:24:00.000-08:002012-03-05T08:11:04.972-08:00Poems by Francy Stoller: When sleep Comes too easily/We wait to run up the ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://francystoller.blogspot.com/2011/12/when-sleep-comes-too-easilywe-wait-to.html?spref=bl">Poems by Francy Stoller: When sleep Comes too easily/We wait to run up the ...</a>: Dreams that repeat themselves-you never quite know if they happened -the one about the Department Store closing/these two floors have the sa...</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-11038564755379299902011-12-19T03:16:00.000-08:002012-03-05T08:11:50.410-08:00The Interdependent Toilers or Beware of the Dog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I enter the house in the Bronx through a side door as long as we've been visiting this Aunt we've always gotten off the train and walked up the hill/slid in the garden door. This time she isn't here,the hospital has finished her off and she went peacefully in a semi-coma-no one around to bug her-she had said her piece -Shut the garage door-they're all pigs the ones who called us ''dirty." On the bannister is her purse-a black marshmellow leather with a snap. I sigh and put my hand through the handle,seperate deom the groip who has gathered to either attend the meeting of the tenents who love here or to mourn. On the bag are gloves elbow length white leather/ in a thin brown paper bag,(never been worn),her black wallet with cards and photos-thirty-seven dollars. At the bottom of the pursewas a document and my name and address was on it. It is some sort of telephone referral-she was getting a new company when she got sick.</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-3281351274769358032011-10-13T07:41:00.000-07:002012-03-05T08:12:42.907-08:00Laundromat Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Anne writes poems<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>puts them</li>
</ul>
on grocery<br />
receipts<br />
her husband<br />
has one leg<br />
shorter<br />
he walks w/a cane</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-54439957560462871282010-09-09T04:24:00.000-07:002012-03-05T08:13:54.888-08:00The holiday/we are in the bronx/alone and retained by our own demise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We are Jewish women/like cutout paper dolls/shifting our wigs/preparing fish and soup/Steve and I sit quietly waiting for the vendor to set up for the day. Another James Baldwin is on our minds/the wait to hone a poem/sell a piece of art-speak to our children/play with the grandchildren.Awash of colr and steeped in my heart a language of love and appreciation for the morning raga/a flight all our own.</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-5867595561498293852010-08-19T01:28:00.000-07:002012-03-05T08:14:15.944-08:00confusion here<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
No typewheel/ this keyboard acts up/my need to control/who calls Missssy Bossy</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-2410135063162161132010-06-17T06:05:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.062-08:00The Consequence and The ArtistHere we go <br />back where we started<br />two bits and a loving concern<br />to make art....Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-6724044742248359242009-12-12T04:04:00.000-08:002012-03-05T03:53:57.127-08:00For the sake of idenity/this elemental life never happened<ul><li><div align="right">Over there at the Westbury Music Fair/ you had the distinct opportunity to smell Goldie Hawn /she was tall/you had a girlfriend who the guy who I dissed till he took a bride from the Harmon Family happened to be in love with her and he could not understand anything/how he coming from the Ted Mack Camp could be rejected by first me and then your girl. Some folks <strong><em>ju <blockquote></blockquote>st</em></strong> want people who aren't attracted to them. And so the story goes that in the ghett where we reside/a parcel of words creates an identity all its' own/you find yourself uptight/a broke dick dog/ and the closest item to scratch your fancy and wail out at is an old matchbook with a few words on it in pencil/strong and defined like a treatises/and the the memory game/I'll play till the death/who do you remember my feathers perking uo at/a watchful eye/an inclement strike at identity without money/the kind where you have a penthouse on Park Avenue/with red velvet chairs and a piano in the dining room/overlooking Central Park. Our scratchpad overlooks Barnabas Hospital/the firewagons screetch beneath our window/and we bead rose petals before dawn with the black sky and a sliver of blue over Inwood,it is this crystal bead which feeds my day/Arthur Avenue with Gepetto standing on the corner in his fur hat shaking his head the way so many elders who have encountered the artists have in their glorydays.</div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-35464312955334620782009-10-16T04:54:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.079-08:00Sitting in the car with the radio on/just thinking about my baby<ul><li><div align="right">When we started this life we each brought a magnifying glass. You broke yourself and I tried to keep up/a little voice kept telling me that this way will work. All around us there were signs/don't cross this bridge/stay away from the water/fishing will lead to problems/but we kept traveling and hoping that we could outdistance the deluge against us. We went to the <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em>mountain</em></strong></span>/we went to the sea/we left each other standing in kneehigh water. Then after an eternity/our psyches became just enough damaged that the dream hardly exists. I have to conjure standing in a warm place with a candyplated shield and some ribbons and red flowers/I have climbed on to the edge of the building and fought with the junkies for a spot to pitch my tent. All the jewels are gone except one/ this cross of fire/this one slight beleagured hope that the mail will come on time and the coffee will be served by us and that for all time we will remember what we have forgotton and that we will go down in history as the ones who never gave up<span style="font-family:webdings;">. </span></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-33893585472842452782009-09-13T17:11:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.076-08:00the Find Center/8th Ave. and 40th Street/ a place which I though was naturally dangerous or depressing<ol><li><div align="right">Some times I would duck in to the Center and look at this painting of Times Square/a mural on the west wall/archetype like the Parisian scenes/I love this work. Along th <span style="font-family:webdings;">westElongwall</span> up front people sit and sleep/talk about themselves/it blew my mind the first time I saw this couple up against each other talking about love/as if down'n'outs <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em>have</em></strong></span> no energy for this sort. I sat inside the cafeteria at various intervals/the click/clack of dominoes/the food looked so good that I'll probably have to eat there. So real/quiet/Cozy Cole dude in his Sunday blue Serge and portpie hat/one at a time the people nestle in to see the painting/to offer dad a quiet hurrah. The community was accepting and strong/</div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-53457297680364286032009-08-03T12:48:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.101-08:00You put something down/the next day you look and it's not there<ol><li><div align="right">We are standing in this room that's filled with old clothes/above the shelves is a bookshelf/you kiss me lightly/ I know what this kiss means. It's a thank-you for all the years that we've been together. <blockquote></blockquote><span></span></div></li></ol><strong></strong><strong></strong><em></em><blockquote></blockquote>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-60115967815170706812009-07-31T10:36:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.114-08:00We skip out of town to Tucumcari/New Mexico/it is a rt.66 memorial<ul><li><blockquote></blockquote><div align="right">There is a dream/it always begins with a dream. We are prepared to risk everything to travel five thousand miles to the desert. Danielle prepares snacks and hotels/bottled water/she is our grand advisor and beautiful spirit daughter, We arrive in Tucumcari at sundown/we drive up the steep canyon road and see the red stone of our salvation. The earth seems to call us in to it. The sage infiltrates brains/for three days we harvest small gourds and try to center our selves /the lizards of the land. The paintings have a purple hue in the sky and the mesas seem to breathe the red air. It is hot and dry and the lakes are red puddles and rivers are stream deep in to the earth. We find one room adobe house and meet with the rancher who owns it. We will have to wait for a settlement. </div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-11193677018409272152009-07-15T22:04:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.039-08:00The inevitable happens/ We enter in to the third realm<ul><li><div align="right">We have come to the conclusion that there is nothing sacred in the house. Pablo and Kira have returned from the Vermont getaway. The baby Indy is beginning to take steps. We await the new baby and Adam is back on his feet from a bout with teething. Summer is hot and oppressive in the big city. We arrive in the north land for a over-grown look at this summer. The <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em>painti <blockquote></blockquote>ngs</em></strong></span> are postured for the long trip to the coast. We are escorting the stone to the new destination. Once we step down in paradise our inner thoughts will have ceased. We have worked all year to make this happen and only God knows how we deserve it.</div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-81694632695578469042009-07-11T03:12:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.150-08:00the glass booth never leaves my mind/how could the rubber man and the fat lady with the beard not be real<p align="right">Almost three weeks since MJ HITS THE HIGH ROAD. The avatars still in place/we have transcended the malaise of our own inter-relationship. We still carry the burdens of our own individual mediums. It is this cross reference which gives us light and hopefully not 'FLIGHT" Tomorrow we fly to TORONTO/a city not far from where our hearts stood still/Pab and Ben <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>le</p><blockquote></blockquote><p align="right">arned</strong></span> to walk/ALO and Danielle entered the world. </p>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-24491787711812145352009-07-08T01:37:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.065-08:00call me whack you piece a shyt hip-hop -moron cause your mama can't hold you<ul><li>This big ole headed boy seems to want my lunch. We have been in the Village too long,it's time to pull up stakes and hit the high road. The kids are grown and we have all but to make sure the <span style="font-size:180%;">tomatoes</span> ke <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>ep coming so that the Danielsons have some vitamins.</li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-714224268012224392009-06-29T02:28:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.132-08:00Ripley's Believe It or Not/ I wait for my honey/my fascination wirh freaksA slingback to the 50's/ I wonder what happened to a lot of the people I know/some have attached themselves to my Buddy List/whatever for /I like it. This day I stand <blockquote><em><em><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong>with </strong></strong></strong></strong></strong></strong></strong></em></em></blockquote>the Bronxite who works concession/the heart of Manhattan's workforce-Bronx SPINEFrancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-91872952464642652312009-06-27T23:48:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.192-08:00We know that our end is coming/ we visit art gallery near the river/workreaches me/the of angels/ work and sleep/poets/the execution of craft AM ON THE SCHEDULE<strong></strong><strong></strong><em></em><blockquote></blockquote>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-20977088371010459332009-06-24T23:27:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.054-08:00Follow the red card/ the pea game/I REMAIN A SHILL IN THIS LIFE<ul><li><div align="right">I k now that you are smiling/ you have your back to me/ we watch the tube/ it is time to leave for a little respite from work/ WE ARE OVERDUE/ the crunch has left us limp/a dense existence to produce the required quota<span style="font-family:webdings;font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"><em>........ <blockquote></blockquote> </em></span></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-50898726288396731072009-06-23T06:02:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.096-08:00train wreck/it's flooding here/the fire killed their dogs/the boy excapede without his wheelchair<div align="center">a finer day for the beachBLOG gonna ride the wave/</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-75407817622257914762009-06-20T02:17:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.141-08:00language turns towards the east/Isee a large bird swooping down / this day June 20/ is made for lovers/an ancient secret/ a lover without a mate/A ch<ul><li><div align="right">the money I watching my parents and wanting a mate <blockquote></blockquote>It cannot be this good/ I doubt if anyone cares/REMEMBER</div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-75995523787226598682009-06-04T08:50:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.143-08:00fate comes creeping on in again/ without an alarm /written 1990<ul><li><div align="center">Front ended / glass broken / head-on collision</div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-90541007858998906742009-06-03T07:51:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.185-08:00METHOD FOR LIVING THE ARTIST'S LIFE/2006/<ul><li><div align="right">Never want anything /embrace WHAT IS AT HAND /CHERISH THOSE who are close by/Eat once a day / Don't develop tastes for anything expensive /know that patience comes hard /First there will be a lot of anger/that will pass / after twenty years or so / Practise your craft with diligence/ Force yourself to create /this is your life blood / Believe in yourself /no one else will /it is your own path. <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178698145666852856.post-85033988249227743062009-06-02T07:04:00.000-07:002012-03-05T03:53:57.165-08:00Oconee County,Ga.,We are living at the Robinson PLACE /100 YR. OLD SLAVE HOUSE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Blackberry caves of stickling wine/ purple prickly bushes/ clinging on the gargantuan trees/ the creatures/arms and legs draped on the roadside / headless monsters</div>
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