John J. Trause | Orange

Orange                                 Color? Orange Red Green Yellow

It was an ordinary Sunday in San Antonio, a city more bright and beautiful than Venice, without threat of flood in over 85 years, when fresh from our hotel, on the River Walk lined with overhanging trees and decoratively verdant vines, some resplendent with bright orange flowers, when my sister, three-year-old nephew, and I strolled the short walk to St. Mary’s Church, a block or two away. We had learned the day before how the Germans had settled in San Antonio, contributing to the local Tex-Mex cuisine their preference for wheat over maize tortillas, wheat considered by them the proper food for humans, corn only fit for animals. I marveled all weekend at how the San Antonio River seemed so clear and clean, not murky or flood-prone as the lagoons of Venice are known to be, and now even the air itself on this brightly orange-yellow Sunday testified to the mix of urban bustle and bucolic profusion in efficient balance. Beautiful shade trees, blocking the auburn sun, flourished along the streets, recalling those of Amsterdam and Berlin. As we approached the façade of the church, there lounging on the steps, a seemingly homeless woman, fleshy, plump, and with brightly but poorly dyed orange-red hair, was calling out and gesturing to us in the distance while combing her greasy coif. Getting closer, I realized that she, knowing that we were headed toward the entrance of the church, was trying to get my attention and not that of my sister or nephew: “Mister, mister, your fly is open.”

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John J. Trause, Director of Oradell Public Library, is the author of six books of poetry, including Why Sing? (Sensitive Skin Press, 2017) and Seriously Serial (Poets Wear Prada, 2007; rev. ed. 2014), and one of parody, Latter-Day Litany (Éditions élastiques, 1996), the latter staged Off Broadway. His translations, poetry, prose, and artwork appear internationally in many journals and anthologies. Marymark Press has published Trause’s visual poetry and art as broadsides. He is a founder of the William Carlos Williams Poetry Cooperative in Rutherford, New Jersey, and the former host and curator of its monthly reading series.

John J. Trause | Yellow

Yellow                                  Yellow Orange Red Green

San Antonio, as one of the fastest growing cities in the nation, was also experiencing a high rate of homelessness, crime, and depravity, belying the tranquility and ostentation of the tourist trade along the River Walk, a clear separation between the haves and have-nots in close proximity, the former ignoring the latter and the latter trying to gain the attention of the former. What might be lurking in the umber shadows under the bridges along the river or even below the surface of the ochre-stained water moving almost imperceptibly as if stagnant? Was that a whiff of urine wafting from that alley? Is that puddle residual river water or yellow piss staining the walkway? It was from this buzzing yellow miasma along the River Walk that my sister, my three-year-old nephew, and I strolled the short walk to St. Mary’s Church, a block or two away. As we approached the façade of the church, we thought we saw, there, sprawling on the steps, a seeming mass of tentacles and fetid sea flesh bellowing out at no one in particular, a red-haired Scylla of the sanctuary, ready to snatch us from our footing. On coming closer we saw that this bedraggled creature might be a seemingly destitute woman, fleshy, plump, and with brightly but poorly dyed red hair. She had been calling out and gesturing to us from a distance while combing her greasy, colored coif. Does she want money? Does she want help? Does she just want attention? What does she want? Getting closer, I realized that she, knowing that we were headed to the entrance of the church, was trying to get my attention and not that of my sister and nephew: “Mister, mister, your fly is open.”

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John J. Trause, Director of Oradell Public Library, is the author of six books of poetry, including Why Sing? (Sensitive Skin Press, 2017) and Seriously Serial (Poets Wear Prada, 2007; rev. ed. 2014), and one of parody, Latter-Day Litany (Éditions élastiques, 1996), the latter staged Off Broadway. His translations, poetry, prose, and artwork appear internationally in many journals and anthologies. Marymark Press has published Trause’s visual poetry and art as broadsides. He is a founder of the William Carlos Williams Poetry Cooperative in Rutherford, New Jersey, and the former host and curator of its monthly reading series.

John J. Trause | Green

Green                                  Green Yellow Orange Red

It was in ordinary time on an ordinary Sunday in San Antonio, a city more green and lush and beautiful than Venice, without the threat of flood in over 85 years, when fresh from our hotel on the River Walk lined with overhanging trees and decorative verdant vines, that my sister, my three-year-old nephew, and I strolled the short walk to St. Mary’s Church, a block or two away. I marveled, all weekend, how the San Antonio River seemed so clear and clean, not murky and flood-prone as the lagoons of Venice are known to be, and how even the air on this bright, aqua-blue Sunday testified to a mix of urban bustle and natural voluptuousness in ecologically sound measure. Trees flourished green and glorious along the streets as well. La Serenissima should have been green with envy. As we approached the façade of the church, there lounging on the steps, a seemingly homeless woman, fleshy, plump, and with brightly, but poorly dyed red hair, Clairol Ketchup Splash or L’Oréal Salsa Picante, was calling out and gesturing to us from a distance while combing her greasy, colored coif.  Getting closer, I realized that she, knowing that we were heading to the entrance of the church, was trying to get my attention and not that of my sister or nephew: “Mister, mister, your fly is open.”

__________________________________

John J. Trause, Director of Oradell Public Library, is the author of six books of poetry, including Why Sing? (Sensitive Skin Press, 2017) and Seriously Serial (Poets Wear Prada, 2007; rev. ed. 2014),  and one of parody, Latter-Day Litany (Éditions élastiques, 1996), the latter staged Off Broadway. His translations, poetry, prose, and artwork appear internationally in many journals and anthologies. Marymark Press has published Trause’s visual poetry and art as broadsides. He is a founder of the William Carlos Williams Poetry Cooperative in Rutherford, New Jersey, and the former host and curator of its monthly reading series.