Slivers of sunlight come knocking on my

door on this succulent morning, but I don’t

answer. The night’s been hard, and swarthy

too. This wasn’t it, but I learned that

cousin Angelo died weeks ago.  I hardly

knew him even when, and saw him last

multiple years ago.  Angelo, boon to

women everywhere.  I knew only one who

could resist his sneering and smoldering

charms, and that one I can only believe, not

know surely.   His conquests were legendary, and

only I know of some surprises among


Angelo, demi-namesake of his Gramps and

mine, doubtless better known and beloved by

him than much younger me, who never learned

Italian and must have been a mystery to


Angelo, where have those conquests gotten

you to now?   Now you’re Paul Kantner, who

also died weeks ago, you’re the late Signe

Anderson, and you are the great Merle Haggard who

died Thursday.

As all of us will.  It’s one thing we all have in common,

the great melting pot,

lotharios and academics,

despots and Elvis impersonators, tycoons

and wage slaves alike.  And even poets. We’re not 

so different after all, are we, and with that stolid

thought I shall open my door and welcome those



R.Bremner, the son of a Scottish-English father and an Italian mother, grew up in the Italian-American enclave of Lyndhurst, New Jersey, hometown of the great Lou Monte. In fact, in the last verse of “Darktown Strutters Ball”, Lou croons, “Are you from Lyndhurst?”. Ron has two published books and four chapbooks of poetry, including Ektomorphic (Presa Press), Pencil Sketches (Clare Songbirds Press), Absurd (Cajun Mutt Press), and Nightmares (Alien Buddha Press).