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Eric Chaet

eric.jpg

Born, Chicago, USA, 1945.  Raised on rough South Side.  Janitorial, clerical, factory, warehouse work, teaching jobs from the East Coast to West, years of hitchhiking, often sleeping outside, eating little.  25 years solo consulting assignments: logistics, manufacturing, space exploration, & agriculture operations research out of my northeast Wisconsin home.  I study a lot, & try to modify behavior according to what I learn.  Album of songs: Solid and Sound (1977).  Books: Old Buzzard of No-Man's Land (poems, 1974), How To Change the World Forever For Better (telegraphic philosophy, 1990, second edition, 1994), People I Met Hitchhiking On USA Highways (narrative prose, 2001).  About 1,500 posters (silk-screened on scraps of cloth) stapled to utility poles across USA (1985-1995).  100 So-Called Poems (website, 2007 - now). 
 
I KNOW HOW TO AROUSE INDIGNATION
 
to play on people's frustrations & resentments--
to rise in their esteem & even gain power
by focusing their fury--
dangling the prospect of settling the score
against some group or individual--
this or that class or race or accent or appearance--
I know how to arouse indignation--but I won't do it!
 
Do you suppose that the demagogues
who reach the top of movements & nations
by arousing indignation in that way
are freely enjoying their power & wealth?
They must keep delivering their speech
whatever happens to them in private
& however they feel--as long as they live--
there can be no pause while their audience realizes
that one sort of dissatisfaction has only been replaced
by another sort of dissatisfaction--
they don't dare stop pretending
that they can banish the suffering
of those on whose shoulders they are being paraded!
I know how to arouse indignation--but I won't do it!


Nacido en Chicago, EE. UU., 1945. Criado en  el South Side.Autoeducado,  recorre losEE UU desde muy  niño trabajando en limpieza de oficinas, fábricas,  almacén, desde la Costa este hasta el oeste, años de echar dedo  en las carreteras a menudo durmiendo al aire libre, comiendo poco. Así y 25 años de transferi sus experiencias t dando consultoría individual en  logística, fabricación, exploración espacial y investigación de operaciones agrícolas. Formóun  hogar en el noreste de Wisconsin. Estudió mucho e intento modificar el comportamiento de acuerdo con lo que aprendía. Tiene un Álbum de canciones: Solid and Sound (1977). Libros: Viejo zopilote de la tierra de nadie (poemas, 1974), Cómo cambiar el mundo para siempre y para mejor ° En proceso de traducción al español. (filosofía telegráfica, 1990, segunda edición, 1994), Gente que conocí haciendo autostop en las autopistas de EE. UU. (Prosa narrativa, 2001). Alrededor de 1.500 carteles (serigrafiados en trozos de tela) grapados a postes de servicios públicos en todo Estados Unidos (1985-1995). Poesía   Poemas tal llamados  .

Sé cómo despertar la indignación

Jugando con las frustraciones y los resentimientos de la gente,
para aumentar su estima e incluso ganar poder
concentrando, colgando de  su furia
ante  la perspectiva de ajustar cuentas
contra algún grupo o individuo
tal o cual clase, raza, acento o apariencia.
Sé cómo provocar indignación, ¡pero no lo haré!

¿Crees que los demagogos
que alcanzan la cima de movimientos y naciones
despertando así la indignación
disfrutan libremente de su poder y riqueza?

Deben seguir dando su discurso
pase  lo que  les pase en privado
o como se sientan.  Mientras vivan...
no puede haber pausa mientras su audiencia se da cuenta
que un tipo de insatisfacción solo ha sido reemplazado
por otro tipo de insatisfacción,
¡ No se atreven a dejar de fingir
que pueden desterrar el sufrimiento
de aquellos sobre cuyos hombros  se pasean!
Sé cómo provocar indignación, ¡pero no lo haré!

FAITH & STRATEGY
 
Before humanity's misguided behavior
engulfs my knowledge, efforts, needs--
& the efforts & needs, too
of my contemporaries who begin in disadvantage--
I sustain myself by parallel efforts.
 
I must recall & mercifully tend
to my appalled mind, body, personality--
while sharpening my preparation & deeds.
 
I intensify frequency & amplitude--
& induce practical cooperation when I can.
 
I take no pride in cleverness, but apply it.
I don't compete for loot or looters' esteem.
 
Since results lag efforts---most beyond our life-times' limit--
I devise my own gauge for return on investment.
I must not crash, go broke, be neutralized--
It's my duty to succeed.

 

///

FE Y ESTRATEGIA
 
Ante el comportamiento equivocado de la humanidad 
ahogue   mis conocimientos, renuevo mis esfuerzos
 y considero  mis necesidades y  sostengo con esfuerzos paralelos.
a mis  contemporáneos que comienzan en desventaja. 
 
Debo pensar y cuidar misericordiosamente
 mi mente, mi cuerpo, mi personalidad
mientras afino mi preparación y mis obras.
 
Intensifico frecuencia y amplitud
a inducir la cooperación práctica cuando pueda.
No me enorgullezco de la inteligencia, pero la aplico.
No compito por el botín o la estima de los saqueadores.
 
Dado que los resultados retrasan los esfuerzos,
la mayoría más allá del límite de nuestra vida,
diseño mi propio indicador de recuperación  de la inversión.
sin estrellarme, arruinarme, o ser neutralizado ... Es mi deber triunfar.

///

UNCHOSEN & UNPROMISED

 

We unchosen people start
assaulted & ruled, among the lures & discards
of those who tell themselves & one another
that they're the chosen few.
Their goal perpetuation, mine to thrive & serve
those who suffer disadvantage
& from others' unwillingness to know what they do.
My work is emerging from helplessness
& helping the helpless become effective, too.
There will be no chosen, then
& no unchosen, either:
one plus one, then more & more
we emerge from helplessness, in the unpromised land.
///

 

NO ESCOGIDO &  SIN PROMESAS

Nosotros,  los no elegidos comenzamos
asaltados  y gobernados  entre los señuelos y sobrados
de los que se dicen a sí mismos y entre ellos
que son los pocos elegidos.
Su meta  perpetuarse, la mía luchar y servir
 a los que son discriminados
ignorados por falta  de voluntad de los demás
para saber lo que hacen.
Mi trabajo  emerge de  la impotencia &
 ayudar a los indefensos me empodera..
No habrá elegidos, entonces tampoco sin escoger...
uno más uno, luego más y más
emergerán de la  impotencia  en la tierra no prometida.

 

PENSANDO EN EL FUTURO

 

Tengo que liberarme para pensar y afectar el futuro,
hoy, mañana, el resto de la semana, mes, año
el resto de mi vida y más allá
para  poder interactuar  con todos los que luchan con puro corazón
disciplinándose   para no dañar a los demás
y desarrollar y contribuir con todo lo que sean capaces.
Tengo que liberarme de las mezquinas expectativas que otros quieren imponerme. 
y saber que  me he interiorizado y me he empoderado 
y aprendido  de los grandes engaños- y pensar y afectar el futuro.

 

THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE

 

I have to break free to think about & affect the future
today, tomorrow, the rest of the week, month, year
the rest of my life, & beyond-
for all those who strive with pure heart
disciplining themselves so as not to harm others
& yet, to develop & contribute what they're capable of.
I have to get free of the petty expectations others lay on me
& that I've internalized & lay on myself
& also of the grand delusions-
& think about & affect the future.

 

Eric Chaet ..Continue complete works

DIALOGO  PARA SEGUIR PENSANDO/DIALOGUE TO CONTINUE THINKING


Joseph,  Gracias por hacerme saber de ti., ¿ Cómo estás? 
¿Cómo vas llevando tu vida durante la pandemia? ¿ Sigues activo en tu comunidad? 
 
Eric.  No sé qué tan bien lo estoy haciendo. Depende de los demás, si me ayudan  a descubrir y articular 
y permitir que  influya en suventaja y la de aquellos con quienes interactúan.
Pero no estoy enfermo, ni me bombardean ni me torturan. Ni siquiera 
 estoy terriblemente ansioso, aunque mi sensación de incapacidad
para la tarea a veces es muy pesada. Pero estoy progresando mucho para ser más adecuado.
 
Joseph. : Tu mensaje me deja pensando en el significado exacto de--- "  lo bien que lo estamos haciendo ...
¿Depende de los demás? ¿Puede su juicio ser causante de nuestro estado de ánimo? 
Quizá, si nuestra  función es sólo servir a otros  y  sobre esa base construir nuestro ser interior ... 
si hacemos el bien, nos sentimos bien, pero ¿Qué es bueno   o malo a los ojos de los demás? 
No todo el mundo toma nuestras acciones de la manera que pretendemos. 
Pensando en hacer el bien, a veces terminamos causando daño...

 Eric," A menudo siento que estoy muy lejos de hacer  las cosas bien.  
"a veces es muy pesada la sensación de ser inadecuado ...
 
Joseph  !Oh!  SÍ.  lo es para mí ... es el peor sentimiento que uno puede tener --
si se toma positivamente, se convierte en renovación de la fe y fortaleza moral ... grandeza espiritual.

 EricHasta aquí todo bien. (No queda mucho tiempo). Es bueno ver que estás
haciendo lo que haces. Espero que estés bien también. 
Aprecio lo que has hecho y todo lo que puedas hacer para hacer un buen uso de mi trabajo. Que te vaya bien. 

Joseph. Thanks for letting me know about you. How are you? How are you leading your life during the pandemic? Are you still active in your community?
 
Eric. I don't know how well I'm doing. It depends on the others, if they help me
discover and articulate and allow it to influence their  thinking
and  those with whom they interact. But I'm not sick, I'm not bombed or tortured. Not even
 t anxious, although my sense of inadequacy for the task is sometimes very heavy.
But I'm making a lot of progress to be more suitable.

Joseph. : Your message leaves me thinking about the exact meaning of --- "how well we are doing ... Does it depend on others?
Can our judgment be the cause of our mood? Perhaps, if our role is only to serve others and on that basis
we build our inner being ... if we do good, we feel good, but what is good or bad in the eyes of others? 
Not everyone takes our actions the way we intend. Thinking of doing good, sometimes we end up causing harm..,.
 
Eric, "I often feel that I am far from doing the right thing." Sometimes the feeling of being inadequate is very heavy ...
 
Joseph! Oh! YES. it happens to me ... it is the worst feeling one can have --but - if taken positively, it becomes
renewal of faith and moral strength ... spiritual greatness.
 
Eric. So far so good. (Not much time left). It is good to see that you are doing what you do. I hope you're well too.
I appreciate what you have done and what you can do to make good use of my work. !Good luck!

 

echaet@gmail.com

Dear Eric I am so glad to publish  your page the way I did , with the dialogue , and the translations, so far , the most siginficatives a... , you are a great poet , down to earth, writing the truth about he human condition " I Try & try to figure out what to say, that will have good consequences, &, hopefully, great ones -- then I try & try to reach those who will receive it gladly, & modify their beliefs & subsequent activity, to their & everyone's benefit -- but it's so frustrating, I have to be braver than I'm brave, most of the time. " PERIOD . THIS IS YOU, AND I ADMIRE YOU , HAPPY HOLIDAYS b


Querido  Eric: Estoy muy contento de publicar u página de la forma  que lo hago,  con el diálogo y los poemas  traducidos , hasta ahora, los más significativos ;  eres un gran poeta Eric, con los pies en la tierra, escribiendo la verdad. de la condición humana "Trato & y trato de decir  lo que traiga á buenas consecuencias y, con suerte, Grandes; luego intento llegar  con fe y  gusto  a los que las reciben  y ver de  entender sus creencias y actividades para su beneficio y el de todos, pero es muy frustrante, la mayor parte del tiempo tengo que ser más valiente que valiente ". Eric . PERIODO. ESTE ES USTED, Y LE ADMIRO, FELICES FIESTAS

Himno para la humanidad
 
¡Humanidad! ¡Humanidad!
¡Espiral a través del mar cósmico!
Tonos como piedras & cerámica,
! impresionante verdad & adulación !
 
Humanidad embriagada
 con una fuerza inmerecida, 
inconsciente del bien & mal;
 triste, irredenta se tambalea.
 
Más consciente que el chimpancé
hormiga o estrella de mar, hierba o árbol!
Susceptible a la vanidad,
ira & generosidad!
 
Humanidad...Banderas y fronteras,
esquemas de tontos
 haz que tus pulgares & mente
sean las herramientas
de guerra, en lugar de victoria
sobre sequía, inundación, herida!
 
¡Humanidad! ¡Humanidad!
¡Espiral a través del mar cósmico!
Niño & anciano, mujer, hombre-
planifica & actúa humildemente tu plan!

 

 


Anthem For Humanity

Humanity! Humanity!
Spiral thru the cosmic sea!
Hues like stones & pottery,
stunning truth & flattery!

Some are drunk
with unearned strength,
unaware of right & wrong;
some are sad & reel from blows
& strive to readjust with song!

More aware than chimpanzee,
ant or star-fish, grass or tree!
Susceptible to vanity,
wrath, & generosity!

Flags & borders, schemes of fools
make your thumbs & minds the tools
of war, instead of victory
over drought, flood, injury!

Humanity! Humanity!
Spiral thru the cosmic sea!
Child & elder, woman, man-
plan, & humbly act your plan!


Humanity

Where has humanity come from? Where is it going?
Will it ever find a way to integrate its impulses?
Will it ever learn to discriminate between leaders & frauds?
Will it ever get over its awe of mere size & confidence?

Who are the Caucasians?
Where did the Celts & Teutons come from?
Where did the ancestors of the ancestors
of the Hellenes & Romans come from?
What sparked the Vikings' voyages of conquest?
What are the heart-felt beliefs
beneath Europeans' professions, liturgies, & scoffings?
What is the relation among altruism & insecurity & greed?
How far along is the machine revolution?

Who are the Africans?
What is the relationship of the tribes & nations?
What is the relationship among the genes, plains & jungles
mines, teeming cities, & international commerce?
Will Africans organize & integrate?
Will they be an overwhelming army or enlightened cooperating race?
Will Africans be defeated by their legacy of victimization & poverty?
Will a great prophet appear in their midst
only to have his or her message bogged down
in generations of administrators' competition for authority?
Will Africa continue to be the land of plague, drought, famine, war?

Who are the Semites?
Will the Hebrews & Arabs find their common cause?
Will the Aramaens, Phoenicians, & Parthians re-emerge?
Have the Assyrians forever been assimilated by other peoples?
Where did the Sumerians come from?
Were their gods truly space-travelers who cloned human laborers?
What is the true history of agriculture, metallurgy, brewing, cities?

Who are the Hindus? the Chinese? the Japanese?
Where did the Polynesians come from? the Ainu?
Aborigines? Mongols? Finns? Basque?
Who do the Central American flat-nosed Olmec statues represent?
Who else is gone without a word of history?

What is the origin of the tribes of America?-
the buffalo-hunters, pyramid-builders, canoe-voyage traders?

When did it all start?
Is humanity forever bogged down in wishful thinking, panics, greed?
Will the necessary questioning always be suppressed
by those with the most force & those whose struggle
has been to find a comfortable way to serve them?
Will the only impulses-the noble impulses-that might unite us
always be feared, handicapped, ridiculed, persecuted
by those afraid to postpone even for an instant
adaptation to whatever unjust status quo prevails?

Is humanity a primitive organism
with attributes that are merely startling preludes
of what a more successful species yet to emerge will manifest?
Or is it a joke, a dead-end, a bragging drunk about to collapse?
Or is humanity still in its infancy-
& wisdom refraining from grabbing the most popular toys
& working for a maturity never yet experienced-
& only occasionally & briefly conceivable?

Is humanity early on, or in the midst of a stage of development
or on the brink of a sudden transformation?-
like birth, death, spring, or the metamorphosis of caterpillars?

Will it be able to recover after reaping the bitter harvests
planted by those no one could or would stop
in waters, atmosphere, foods, & soils-
& after the enraged striking-out of victimized youths
no one cared about enough to help effectively?

Empathy

I dreamed of neighbors
only slightly known
secretly suffering
their hopes thwarted-
that I could do nothing for them
& couldn't even prevent
myself from being one of them.

Those I'd Help

Those I'd help
will take no help from me
& give me none-
they don't believe
that they need help
they're proud & deluded
they need help
& give me none-
& I need help.
 
My Trial

I'm preparing for the trial of the rest of my life.
I'm accused of wasting my time & talents
colluding with evil, rolling with injustice's punches
rationalizing, adapting, drifting along by reflex action.

I know of no defense attorney who can help me.
The laws are as different from justice
as red is from green, or dissonance from harmony.
No judge nor jury can be expected to sympathize
nor to understand the facts, precedents, or context.

Whether I convince anyone of anything or not
whether the laws or even the State's name changes
the trial for which I'm always diligently preparing
has already begun-& will continue as long as I live. 
 

Achievement


If, before I die, I should gain great wealth & renown
& park my giant yacht among the others
& attend festivities among others likewise invited
wearing expensive outfits & honoring one another-
if the president should pin a medal on me
or even if I should be elected president-
if professional commentators should continually
speak of me in glowing terms
as tho I'm a philanthropist, & efficient, too-
if I should master this or that skill set
medical or electronic or programming or financial
or mathematical or musical, or this or that game-
if it should be generally conceded
that I am the greatest master of all times
at the techniques I have dedicated myself to mastering-
if I should win bet after bet
& the dividends rain in on me as on no one else-
if I should be a universally acclaimed celebrity
& no one can approach me without an appointment
& without honing their presentation down to a brief summary
so as not to waste my precious time-
if all the other members of the elect should agree
& all the commoners & those wasting away should also agree
that I'm the most successful person of my time or of all times-
but there is as much suffering as when I began
& as much injustice as when I began
& the elect & excluded keep living out illusions
conventional illusions nearly everyone agrees are just plain facts
or particular illusions closer to what's so than what most people think
but still pretty far from the truth-
illusions nursed in their secret hearts
while they respond conventionally to conventional cues-
& if those attempting to be righteous are punished
& the weak & relatively innocent are food for the ferocious & cunning-
then I will have achieved nothing worth mentioning.

SOLIDARITY & BEYOND
 
I'm the son of parents who never found their feet
of migrants from where they'd never completely arrived
to another place they never completely arrived
& also the son of their neighbors from everywhere 
likewise groping & flailing 
among some who would take advantage of them
more solidly established or imagining they were so---
but mainly among those too busy trying to avoid joining them
to lend a hand or meal or hygienic quarters---
so that fighting versus gravity, winter, & pathogens
was what they specialized in
making a career of exerting themselves
without sufficient understanding, resources, or rest
til they died of the constant effort.
 
I, too, witness the migrants who never arrive
groping & flailing 
among some who would take advantage of them
while I'm so busy mainly trying to avoid joining them
or merely living & dying, specializing in the effort
of fighting versus gravity, winter, & pathogens---
& trying to figure out how profitably to insert myself
among others likewise trying profitably to insert themselves
in the midst of those so desperate for immunity
from the mere struggle versus gravity, winter, & pathogens
that they don't believe they can afford the time 
to become & be righteous, wise, & kind.
 
I'm an old man, yet such a son, still
& while I live, I hope to become more effective
in service to those whose need is even greater than mine---
my hope is to become more & more effective so---
I have little time left, but more understanding
tho understanding is never complete, always evolving---
habits of ineffectiveness & effectiveness, likewise---
not merely to express my solidarity with those suffering
nor merely to be esteemed by others
expressing solidarity with those who are suffering---
&, without losing hope, not merely to hope, either 
 
I don't mean to insult those expressing such solidarity---
I'm expressing such solidarity, too!---it's a start---
nothing good begins without a good intention---
but words aren't enough, tho they're part of what's needed---
first, ideas formed, correctly, within oneself 
then words for the ideas---no easy matter
while you're a specialist in groping & flailing---
then the words launched somehow into the world
where others can consider them, if they will---
& compelling enough, somehow
that some, eager to speak, not listen
will actually listen, & consider them 
& modify their behavior accordingly
if you've managed to make advantageous suggestions
regarding more effective behavior---
however much they're groping & flailing.

 
Beyond groping & flailing
 beyond words, beyond expressing solidarity---
eventually---may you & I while we live reach the point---
we could discuss how actually to transform the situation---
it's happened again & again, enough already, no?---
transform it temporarily here & there, first
also making an impression, more than words 
that no one & nothing can annihilate---
& eventually, eventually---actually---forever, everywhere.
 
If it's not possible, why are we talking?
Are we just trying to impress one another
that our sentiments are correct
& that we're clever with language?
 
If it is possible
let's get beyond suffering in solidarity
& transform the situation more & more effectively---
always with mercy even for ourselves---
not just exerting ourselves to exhaustion
& dying of futile efforts, as so often happens---
but not contenting ourselves, either
that we've finally managed to put into words
our anguish, indignation, solidarity.

 

 

SOLIDARIDAD Y MÁS ALLÁ
 
Soy hijo de padres que nunca encontraron su rumbo de migrantes
que nunca llegaron por completo a donde llegaron antes
o ningun lugar llegaron completamente---
y tambien soy el hijo de sus vecinos de todas partes
igualmente tanteando y agitando
entre los que se aprovechaban de ellos
mejor establecidos o creyendo que lo estaban--
principalmente entre aquellos demasiado ocupados
tratando de evitar unirse a ellos
darles una mano o comida o una vivienda higiénica ---
así su desafío para sobrevivir, el invierno y los microbios
¿lucha poderosa ,enorme esfuerzo, sin comprender nada
sin recursos y así hasta morir.

Yo también soy testigo de los migrantes que nunca llegan,
a tientas y agitándoseentre algunos que se aprovecharían de ellos
mientras estoy tan ocupado principalmente tratando de evitar unirme a ellos
o simplemente vivir y morir, especializándome en el esfuerzo
de luchar contra la gravedad, el invierno y los patógenos ---
y tratando de descubrir cómo insertarme rentablemente
entre otros, tratando de insertarse igualmente
en medio de aquellos tan desesperados por la inmunidad
de la mera lucha contra la gravedad, el invierno y los patógenos
que no creen que puedan permitirse el tiempo
llegar a ser y ser justos, sabios y amables.

 

Soy un hombre viejo, pero sigo siemdo hijo
y mientras vivo tengo la esperanza de ser más efectivo
al servicio a aquellos cuyas necesidade son incluso mayores que ls mías ---
mi esperanza es ser más y más eficaz, así que ---
Me queda poco tiempo, pero más comprensión
no solo para expresar mi solidaridad con los que sufren
sino paea la comprensión que nunca es completa, siempre evoluciona ---
hábitos de ineficacia y efectividad, igualmente ---
expresando solidaridad con los que sufren --- 
no simplemente para ser estimado sino
para tampoco perder la esperanza.
 
No pretendo insultar a quienes son tan solidarios---
¡También lo hago! --- es un comienzo ---
nada bueno comienza sin no hay buena intención ---
pero las palabras no son suficientes,
aunque son parte de lo que se necesita ---
primero, ideas formadas, correctamente, dentro de uno mismo
luego palabras para las ideas --- no es fácil
mientras eres un especialista en andar a tientas ---
entonces las palabras se lanzan de alguna manera al mundo
donde otros pueden considerarlas, si lo desean ---
yson lo suficientemente convincentes. 
de alguna manera algunos, ansiosos por hablar, no escuchan.
 
Si realmente escucharan considerian
modificar su comportamiento, -
por mucho que estén a tientas y agitándose.
Más allá de tocar a tientas y agitarse más allá de las palabras, 
más allá de expresar solidaridad ---eventualmente --- 
tú y yo mientras vivimos y lleguemos al punto ---
podríamos discutir cómo transformar realmente la situación ---
ha sucedido una y otra vez, ya suficiente, ¿o no? ---
Transformarlo todo temporalmente aquí y allá,
causando impresión, más que palabras que nadie y nada pueden aniquilar ---
y eventualmente, eventualmente --- en realidad ---
para siempre, en todas partes.
 
Si no es posible, ¿Por qué estamos hablando?
¿Estamos tratando de impresionarnos unos a otros?
que nuestros sentimientos son correctos
y que somos inteligentes con el lenguaje?
Si es posible
vamos más allá del sufrimiento en solidaridad
a transformar la situación más y más efectivamente ---
siempre con misericordia incluso para con nosotros mismos ---
no solo esforzándonos hasta el agotamiento
y morir de esfuerzos inútiles, como suele suceder ---
pero tampoco contentarnos
que finalmente logramos poner en palabras
nuestra angustia, indignación, solidaridad.

 


 




MEN
by Eric Chaet
 
 
Tom's been on the job 3 months, still smiles, can't shut up about precision with which he runs machines.
 
Klem was born in Lithuania, Germans cut off his military schooling, & gave him choice to work or fight for Germany,
labored in Lithuania, Brazil & Argentina, for railroad in Pennsylvania, speaks 6 languages, looks like T.S. Eliot with muscles,
wife may be dying of swollen neck glands in hospital, where doctor don't promise nothing, & they rob you in broad day.
 
Israelis chased Abe the Arab from his home, he had 22 date trees 6 miles west of Jerusalem, he crawls into machine
whenever it malfunctions & quickly fixes it, thinking about divorcing his pregnant wife who believes
he is having an affair with her cousin, & shows me every consideration-he says Shalom,
I say Salaam-when I make boxes for him, demonstrating with hands each shorn a finger to second digit.
 
Harris speaks only to black men, only snaps at me when has to, gray specter tinctured dark brown.
Sam thinks being Polish is a joke on him, smiles in round layers of fat, reaching across circle
to grab hot plastic with cotton gloves, setting up huge 18 below.
 
Groundhog Benson banged his head & opened pouring hole, blinked twice, & said 2 shots would fill it, followed by 2 beers.
 
Ken eats candy bars & swells noiselessly over rebelling nerves.
 
James Lee Johnson's a giant black youth once walked from Wisconsin 31 cents in pocket,
to find he'd lost a job, too tired this last month to lift weights at home.
 
Woody says he has 3 years of law school & is worth $165,000, housepainter 37 years,
retired & took this job to not relax, can't keep hands off me trying to demonstrate quick cuts
of razor thru thick film among jerking oily rotations.
 
Pete's wife of 19 years left him to run away with motorcycle gang, now brags of his lover
met in tavern & callousness to wife, broke-hearted, fading white smoke, foreman, disappearing before my eyes.
we drink some beers 63rd & Cicero, mornings, driving home.
 #1484, shift 3-D, midnight till morning, polyethylene division, Chicago plant,
earning some money, I quit.

THE NEXT MOMENT
 
I live right in the middle of everything:
between Venus & Mars, the arctic & Amazon.
I have more money & freedom than some,
less than others,
more skills & understanding than some,
less than others.
I live between birth & death, history & the future.
 
On the one hand: elementary natural forces-
on the other: the market, political machinations,
traditions, & widely-held beliefs.
 
People don't call me much, but I have a phone.
Some people have heard of me, but not many.
Some pay attention to what I say, but not many,
& not often, or for long.
 
I'm not without power-
but people with far more power than I trigger events
that sweep me along like tsunamis.
I live in the era of capitalist revolutionaries:
they innovate & organize, squeeze all possible profit
out of the labor & materials they synchronize-
these are no shrinking violets!-
then use the profits to innovate again-
leaving all they previously created obsolete,
& any who can't keep up,
stranded by the side of the road
with a lot of fancy, odd-shaped appliances
that have little application
to their current needs or hopes-
like children's toys,
five minutes after they tire of them.
 
I live among capitalists, the stranded, & children.
People don't notice me-I'm one of them-
right in the middle of everything.
 
After the time of hunting & gathering,
& improvising a language,
while the tribe moves on;
& after the time when the peasants-
with their tools, land, & animals,
& confessors, plagues, & lords-
were sure where they belonged;
& after the cities, factories, nations, & wars-
I continue into whatever the future is going to be.
 
I'm for liberty, but justice, too.
I'm for justice, but liberty, too.
Yes! I say. No! I also say.
I'm not altogether confident, or without hope, either.
The next moment is a mystery to me.
I not only don't know what I'm going to do:
it's not even clear to me
what I hope to accomplish.

A Man Swerves His Car

A man swerves his car as tho to hit me
where I stand on road shoulder
torn between thumbing a ride east from Kansas City
& watching a crew lay bricks on a newly-erected wood frame.
At the last moment, he turns aside.
He wants me more aware of death & of himself & myself
if I'm going to stand in midst of world
that's driving him back & forth along highways.


EMPATHY
 

I dreamed of neighbors
only slightly known
secretly suffering
their hopes thwarted-
that I could do nothing for them
& couldn't even prevent
myself from being one of them.

GREAT BATTLES

The so-called successes
of my celebrated contemporaries
are so puny, I'd laugh
if I weren't afraid
that the congregations
of the taverns, churches,
courts, & arenas
would beat me
til I'd feign respectfulness.
How I wish
I'd hear from those, like me
engaged in great,
unnoticed battles!

STATE STREET, CHICAGO

Beneath law, lie ocean, ape, & dream-
branches & leaves
wrestle & dance with wind
roots reach elsewhere.
Broke-nose Chicago
ascends the lumbering bus
jamming in aggravated swarms aboard
or slowly thoughtful in worn clothes-
to feed the work addiction,
morning & streetlamp night.
My grandmother on my father's side
rode by horse-back from Pharaoh & Babylon
the Persian & Seleucid empires
English, French, Spanish, German expulsions-
nationalism & bigotry breaking the feudal shell
the dismantling of Poland-Lithuania
& arrested development in the Pale of Settlement-
access to nutrients deliberately withheld-
then incited rioters, while police stood by
burned the roofs under ecstatic, autistic fiddlers-
time to move or die, however dire the options-
thru mechanized, electrifying Germany
by locomotive to the steamer ark-
& emerged from the rocking, implacable sea
at Baltimore-& caught another connection
thru Cumberland Gap's doppler zones
to this booming refrigerated railroad car city-
as ravenous for cheap sewing machine operators
as for cowed, driven, bellowing meat.
Trailing Assyria, caesar, czar of all
Odessa & Kiev, hasid, & kosher butcher.
She met her man on day shift
& lived behind store-front
near penalized black Africans
mafiosa & their wives & children
Irish cops & bars & tenors
& stench of pig & steer massacres.
I am only trying for a straight account
of how I come to be walking up State
sucking Chicago's rusty teat
dreaming & growing stronger.

STATE STREET, CHICAGO

Beneath law, lie ocean, ape, & dream-
branches & leaves
wrestle & dance with wind
roots reach elsewhere.
Broke-nose Chicago
ascends the lumbering bus
jamming in aggravated swarms aboard
or slowly thoughtful in worn clothes-
to feed the work addiction,
morning & streetlamp night.
My grandmother on my father's side
rode by horse-back from Pharaoh & Babylon
the Persian & Seleucid empires
English, French, Spanish, German expulsions-
nationalism & bigotry breaking the feudal shell
the dismantling of Poland-Lithuania
& arrested development in the Pale of Settlement-
access to nutrients deliberately withheld-
then incited rioters, while police stood by
burned the roofs under ecstatic, autistic fiddlers-
time to move or die, however dire the options-
thru mechanized, electrifying Germany
by locomotive to the steamer ark-
& emerged from the rocking, implacable sea
at Baltimore-& caught another connection
thru Cumberland Gap's doppler zones
to this booming refrigerated railroad car city-
as ravenous for cheap sewing machine operators
as for cowed, driven, bellowing meat.
Trailing Assyria, caesar, czar of all
Odessa & Kiev, hasid, & kosher butcher.
She met her man on day shift
& lived behind store-front
near penalized black Africans
mafiosa & their wives & children
Irish cops & bars & tenors
& stench of pig & steer massacres.
I am only trying for a straight account
of how I come to be walking up State
sucking Chicago's rusty teat
dreaming & growing stronger.


PENNSYLVANIA WHISKERS & A RUSSIAN LADY

On our way to march in Washington
we filed in from the bus, shaking with cold
breathing white vapor into the coal-grimey air
& hunched over the all-night counter among bleary miners-
strangers brought together
on another mission unlikely to succeed
for sanity & justice
elbowing mugs of steam to nostrils.
Drops of chocolate malt trembled at my new beard's tips:
one blackened, wheat-bearded, piercing-eyed miner
swiveled on his stool, & bellowed for my benefit:
Let them whiskers grow, young fella! Let them whiskers grow!
There was giggling about it, rolling thru Maryland:
but I was thinking of the woman in the green dress
alone-she'd seemed old to me-at the free concert-
synchronized emanations from within the shell
Lake Michigan slapping its concrete shore-
one crew-cut summer evening in the Loop next to Mom-
who was carried as an infant from one empire to another
before I had a clue how Grant Park or Chicago came to be
or in which third doomed empire
Beethoven harvested, then deployed the sounds-
who, seeing my book, said, "Anna Karenina, ah!"
&, when I nodded, rattled Russian off
so hard & fast-I thought she'd cry
when she finally noticed my uncomprehending eye.


PENNSYLVANIA WHISKERS & A RUSSIAN LADY

On our way to march in Washington
we filed in from the bus, shaking with cold
breathing white vapor into the coal-grimey air
& hunched over the all-night counter among bleary miners-
strangers brought together
on another mission unlikely to succeed
for sanity & justice
elbowing mugs of steam to nostrils.
Drops of chocolate malt trembled at my new beard's tips:
one blackened, wheat-bearded, piercing-eyed miner
swiveled on his stool, & bellowed for my benefit:
Let them whiskers grow, young fella! Let them whiskers grow!
There was giggling about it, rolling thru Maryland:
but I was thinking of the woman in the green dress
alone-she'd seemed old to me-at the free concert-
synchronized emanations from within the shell
Lake Michigan slapping its concrete shore-
one crew-cut summer evening in the Loop next to Mom-
who was carried as an infant from one empire to another
before I had a clue how Grant Park or Chicago came to be
or in which third doomed empire
Beethoven harvested, then deployed the sounds-
who, seeing my book, said, "Anna Karenina, ah!"
&, when I nodded, rattled Russian off
so hard & fast-I thought she'd cry
when she finally noticed my uncomprehending eye.

A Man Swerves His Car

A man swerves his car as tho to hit me
where I stand on road shoulder
torn between thumbing a ride east from Kansas City
& watching a crew lay bricks on a newly-erected wood frame.
At the last moment, he turns aside.
He wants me more aware of death & of himself & myself
if I'm going to stand in midst of world
that's driving him back & forth along highways.


EMPATHY
 

I dreamed of neighbors
only slightly known
secretly suffering
their hopes thwarted-
that I could do nothing for them
& couldn't even prevent
myself from being one of them.

GREAT BATTLES

The so-called successes
of my celebrated contemporaries
are so puny, I'd laugh
if I weren't afraid
that the congregations
of the taverns, churches,
courts, & arenas
would beat me
til I'd feign respectfulness.
How I wish
I'd hear from those, like me
engaged in great,
unnoticed battles!

A Man Swerves His Car

A man swerves his car as tho to hit me
where I stand on road shoulder
torn between thumbing a ride east from Kansas City
& watching a crew lay bricks on a newly-erected wood frame.
At the last moment, he turns aside.
He wants me more aware of death & of himself & myself
if I'm going to stand in midst of world
that's driving him back & forth along highways.


EMPATHY
 

I dreamed of neighbors
only slightly known
secretly suffering
their hopes thwarted-
that I could do nothing for them
& couldn't even prevent
myself from being one of them.

GREAT BATTLES

The so-called successes
of my celebrated contemporaries
are so puny, I'd laugh
if I weren't afraid
that the congregations
of the taverns, churches,
courts, & arenas
would beat me
til I'd feign respectfulness.
How I wish
I'd hear from those, like me
engaged in great,
unnoticed battles!

To say that the enterprise that underlies the emails coming from Joseph Berolo  is impressive, is an understatement.
 A lot of it passes me by, as translating from Spanish is difficult for me, & Google's translations are far from elegant, let alone poetic.
 As always, I find most poetry---English, Spanish, everywhere; ancient, modern, all times; all styles---not to my liking or advantage. 
Although  the poetry I like & find advantageous, I love, & consult again & again.)
 I am most impressed with what Joseph has   done, organizing, making  himself  capable, making so much happen.  It's wonderful.
 I like to think that he haS  done something equivalent, but few can see the results so far, & many of the results are yet to emerge, so can't be displayed.
 I appreciate his attention to the website of my 100 so-called poems, of 50+ years:  ericchaet.wordpress.com.
 Toward the end of the menu, there is a page called The Turnaround Artist, on which I tell a very little about the results so far.
 Please, I can see that, if anyone is busy, it's you.  I don't expect you to look at the site.  I only offer it, in case you're interested.
 I believe it to be extraordinary, tho. Keep it up!

 


Decir que  el proceso  que subyace en las  creaciónes provenientes de Joseph Berolo es impresionante, es un eufemismo.
Mucho de eso me pasa, ya que traducir del español es difícil para mí, y las traducciones de Google están lejos de ser elegantes, y mucho menos poéticas.
Aunque  encuentro que la mayoría de la poesía: inglés, español, en todas partes; antiguo, moderno, todo el tiempo; todos los estilos --- no  es de mi agrado .
Sim embargo,  la poesía me gusta y me encanta, y la trabajo de vez en cuando- Estoy muy impresionado con lo que Joseph ha hecho, organizarse, hacerse capaz, hacer que todo suceda. Es maravilloso.
Me gusta pensar que ha hecho algo grandioso pero pocos ve  los resultados y  muchos  los aprecian, Agradezco su atención al sitio web de mis 100 supuestos poemas, de más de 50 años: ericchaet.wordpress.com.
Hacia el final del menú, hay una página llamada The Turnaround Artist, en la que cuento algo de lo  poco que  he logrado Hasta ahora que  Josepoh  publica lgo de mi obra, 
 Le agradezco mucho porque  si alguien vive  ocupado, es él- . Creo que  lo que hace  es extraordinario, Eric