-with Maretti, Pettrillo and Carocelli-

                  I fell from the tree while

                  batting-down sour green apples.

                  the broomstick, which earlier had lost its

                  severed head in a daring act of subterfuge

                  followed my sudden descent like a crazed disciple. 

                  my ankle seemed to be lightly sprained,

                  but otherwise my condition was good enough
                  to encourage a strong performance.

                  so I hobbled with an exaggerated limp
                  to the house and into the kitchen, where

                  my maternal grandmother, on permanent duty at the sink,

                  wiped her hands, sat me down and stripped my foot

                  of its sneaker and sock to take a look at my ankle.

                  cupping the heel with a firm hand,

                  she rotated the foot in a stringent visual examination

                  to determine the extent of injury, or.. to expose my routine.

                  outside, three friends carelessly feasted

                  at the base of the tree, the ground there
                  littered with felled, sour green apples.

                  my yard.
                  my tree.
                  my sour green apples.

                  Quequechan,  1953, 1954? 1952.

                 post script / a fess-up:

                 In Jack Kerouac's "Scattered Poems" (City Lights Books,

                 The Pocket Poets Series Number 28) 

                 he, Allen Ginsberg & Neal Cassady, collaborated on a few whimsical

                 poems, where closing dates were applied in interesting chronologies which

                 I've chosen to mimic here, as well as with a number of others of my poems.

                 this is not stealing! I have every intent to return the zany, magnetic arrangement

                 of these dates to the aforementioned poets when the proper time comes 'round.