listen with burning hot ears
the sound of clinking metal chimes
we are at the end of an endless marble hallway
flying candle-lit bats are silent shadows
behind the black door bone man arrives
with his ring of infinite skeleton keys
the slender shadow of the spindly intruder
steps between rows of wide doric columns
he walks and creeps, closer and closer
his steps become louder and louder
until a bony hand raps on your door
this sound makes you jump
he attempts to gain entrance into your cell
patient ivory hands scrape at the door
they pull at the shiny brass knob
a long golden key slips into the lock
rusty metal bolts grind and clank
the heavy ebony door moans in agony
slowly it opens wide as bats flutter around
purple and crimson fog envelopes you
it is very quiet for a long, long time
your soul has become transparent
offer your guest some cookies
and say your prayers
Ralph S. DeMarco
Just one of the photos taken at the recent House of Love Halloween party. You can view the rest of them at my Flickr account here.
My Uncle Americo recently came to visit New York from his home in Florida. My sister Nancy and I, along with my girlfriend Heather, met up with them at the home of Uncle Joe and Aunt Florence before setting off for Rockwell's restaurant in Pelham. My cousins Anthony and Meco also joined us for dinner. With the exception of Meco, I had not seen these members of the DeMarco clan in almost 20 years. Time sure goes by fast.
My cousin Michael and I met last week at the Wheeltapper Pub in midtown Manhattan. He was in New York City on business, visiting from Mexico City where he's been living for almost fifteen years. This was the first time we had seen each other since he moved down there in 1993. After more than a few at the Wheeltapper, we took the Metro North back to my loft. We spent the rest of the evening with my girlfriend, Heather, at the High Street Roadhouse in Rye. We went there to check out my friend Mike Milazzo perform live with his band. We had a blast eating great Cajun food, drinking good beer, and reminiscing about old times. Heather and I are looking forward to possibly meeting his family this summer if they come to visit New York. One year soon I'd like to take up his offer to vacation south of the border and experience a very festive Christmas holiday in Mexico City. He tells me there's nothing like it.
My father served on the Essex-class aircraft carrier USS Wasp (CV-18) from 1959-1961. Last year I received a call from one of his fellow sailors who hadn't seen my father since he had left the Navy. After spending days trying to find the right Ralph DeMarco, he was very surprised and relieved to have found his former Navy buddy's son, rather than just another wrong number. This made the news of my father's recent death from cancer in February 2005 all the more difficult to tell him about. He took it rather well and was interested in talking to me about my father life since his Navy years. I didn't have the heart to tell him that my father's life had slowly unraveled after his was forced to resign from the Rye Police Department, and his divorce from my mother in the 1970s. His self-destruction reached its worst when, about eight years ago, he chose to be homeless rather than pay money for rent. The money he saved on rent was spent on alcohol and drugs. The last time I spoke to him, he was in the hospital suffering from frost-bite. So I told him how proud my father was of his service, and how much he enjoyed reminiscing about his buddies who served with him. Before the call ended he asked if he could call me back sometime and talk some more about my dad. I told him that he was welcome to call back. When a veteran of our armed forces dies, his family is issued an American flag, folded neatly and placed in a triangular shaped box frame. It's a reminder to me of my father's service, and all the men and women who have fought for our protection and freedom. They deserve our appreciation.
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