<div class="line">Beautiful blue beetle,</div>
<div class="line">curved and dumpy, lovely</div>
<div class="line">as a lumpy German <em>mädchen</em></div>
<div class="line">overly fond of <em>kartoffeln</em>.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">Four cylinders chugging</div>
<div class="line">in the rear, it was like being chased</div>
<div class="line">by a busy washing machine.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">Air-cooled engine slow</div>
<div class="line">to warm my feet.</div>
<div class="line">I loved how I could tuck it</div>
<div class="line">into tiny San Francisco parking spots.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">No gas gauge, just guess</div>
<div class="line">the gas to get you there.</div>
<div class="line">No synchromesh first gear,</div>
<div class="line">no coasting through stop signs.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">Small outside, it still thought big.</div>
<div class="line">Record load—seven bags of groceries,</div>
<div class="line">five kids, one friendly neighbor,</div>
<div class="line">two dogs and a pair of bowling shoes.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">I sold it. Never realizing</div>
<div class="line">that it prophesied my life—</div>
<div class="line">the inability to pass abruptly,</div>
<div class="line">the slow fade on the long uphill grade.</div><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/BavettaElegy.mp3"></audio></figure>

Vibrato Ghazal

True Story

Elegy for My 1958 Volkswagen

<div class="line">Got up this morning thinking about going to see my daughter.</div>
<div class="line">Which led to thinking about the remote for the garage door opener</div>
<div class="line">which had stopped working when I replaced the battery.</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">Which led to searching online for garage door repairmen. Which led to</div>
<div class="line">wanting to check the remote again before I called a repairman.</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">Which led to getting dressed so I could go outside. Which led to</div>
<div class="line">remembering to brush my teeth. Which led to discovering my Waterpik</div>
<div class="line">wasn’t working. Which led to researching online to find out</div>
<div class="line">what the problem could be. Which led to</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">scrabbling around to find the extra tips that came with the Waterpik</div>
<div class="line">and figuring out which was which and how to replace the tip.</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">So with Waterpik repaired I went outside and tried again</div>
<div class="line">to make the garage door opener work. Which led to</div>
<div class="line">my discovering that the little red light in the remote wasn’t on.</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">Which led me to fiddle with the batteries again. Which led to</div>
<div class="line">my discovering I had ordered the wrong battery for it. Which led to</div>
<div class="line">a protracted Amazon session looking for the proper battery</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">and figuring out which were in stock and would come soon</div>
<div class="line">and didn’t come only in a pack of fifty.</div>
<div class="line"> </div>
<div class="line">So now I’m exhausted and I’m not going anywhere.</div><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/BavettaBattery.mp3"></audio></figure>

The Space Between

The Return

The New Battery Should Come Tomorrow

<div class="line">was always where I wasn&#8217;t,</div>
<div class="line">in the other room, behind the paisley curtains,</div>
<div class="line">on the bigger Ferris wheel,</div>
<div class="line">out in the backyard while I was washing cups.</div>
<div class="line">It was always just before my Currie&#8217;s Mile Hi cone</div>
<div class="line">or just after I left the party.</div>
<div class="line">It was while I was leaning over the toilet,</div>
<div class="line">throwing up a bad tuna sandwich</div>
<div class="line">when my boyfriend went out alone and got drunk</div>
<div class="line">with a girl he barely knew</div>
<div class="line">and ended up fuzzy-diced into marrying her.</div>
<div class="line">It was in the sixties, with love and pot</div>
<div class="line">and rainbows over the radio,</div>
<div class="line">while I was bricked under lawns and tricycles</div>
<div class="line">and dirty sheets, scrambled with the eggs, broken</div>
<div class="line">over and over and over again.</div>
<div class="line">Now the sixty turnings belong, not to the century,</div>
<div class="line">but to the mirror,</div>
<div class="line">and I&#8217;m still here, waiting for amber earrings.</div>


Haymaking

The Raft

The Fun

<p class="epil"><em>for Albert Einstein</em></p>
<div class="line">A friend of mine says she is losing bone mass,</div>
<div class="line">twenty-seven percent of her is suitcased away.</div>
<div class="line">&#8220;Gone forever,&#8221; she tells me,</div>
<div class="line">to the winds of mother earth,</div>
<div class="line">to swirl and be swirled, dust above the pyramids,</div>
<div class="line">about the plains, above the churning seas,</div>
<div class="line">to become part of the pillages, the battles,</div>
<div class="line">the pogroms and avalanches, part of the cacophony</div>
<div class="line">of congresses and the world’s brazen symphonies,</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">part even of the tepid water of my bath,</div>
<div class="line">wherein I lie, wishing that I could float forever,</div>
<div class="line">under the protection of its amniotic embrace.</div>
<div class="line">I’d like to pull the water over me,</div>
<div class="line">a warm and soothing blanket</div>
<div class="line">to keep away the noisy fingers of the world.</div>
<div class="line">But I can’t hide, the world will always find me</div>
<div class="line">and I will always find the world.</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">My friend loses mass, I gain it.</div>
<div class="line">As if it were the golden vapor</div>
<div class="line">rising from a bowl of steaming emeralds,</div>
<div class="line">I breathe it in, absorb it as a fish</div>
<div class="line">absorbs the singing waters.</div>
<div class="line">I enlarge, amplify, extend,</div>
<div class="line">incorporate the overflow.</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">I absorb the murder weapons, the Rembrandts,</div>
<div class="line">the common doilies, keys and maps,</div>
<div class="line">unto the last, the cusp, the deus ex lawnmower.</div>
<div class="line">I take in all this, expand and swell,</div>
<div class="line">live all the lives that touch my own.</div>
<div class="line">Oh, sorrowful world, is there no end?</div>


All of the Things

New Negroes

Critical Mass

<div class="line">And sun said,</div>
<div class="line">let there be fire</div>
<div class="line">and there was fire.</div>
<div class="line">And the fire said,</div>
<div class="line">let there be wind.</div>
<div class="line">and the wind was throbbing</div>
<div class="line">and the beast of the flames</div>
<div class="line">pulled taut over the hills,</div>
<div class="line">said naught to the chaparral,</div>
<div class="line">and nil to the coyote.</div>
<div class="line">And the coyote ran.</div>
<div class="line">And the rabbits ran.</div>
<div class="line">And the deer</div>
<div class="line">and the rattlesnake</div>
<div class="line">and the quail ran.</div>
<div class="line">And the wind</div>
<div class="line">sprang from its kiln</div>
<div class="line">and tongue-licked the eaves</div>
<div class="line">and the rafters</div>
<div class="line">and the roof.</div>
<div class="line">And the smoke</div>
<div class="line">was air and the air</div>
<div class="line">was smoke.</div>
<div class="line">The air was our bodies.</div>
<div class="line">It was the shadows</div>
<div class="line">against the sky.</div><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/BavettaHeat.mp3"></audio></figure>

Phallogocentric

Poets Respond

Mother Said

Heat

<blockquote>
<p style="text-align: justify;">RUTH BAVETTA: “I’ve been a visual artist longer than I’ve been a poet. For years I tried to find a way to integrate my art and my words. It wasn’t until 2005 that they came together when I started to work on the pages of old books, mostly with watercolors and inks, carving poems from the text that I found there.” (<a href="http://ruthbavetta.com/">website</a>)</p>
</blockquote>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Click for a larger version: </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://admin.rattle.com/rattle29/bavettaend.jpg"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="aligncenter" style="vertical-align: middle;" src="https://admin.rattle.com/rattle29/bavettaends.jpg" alt="THe End and the Aim" width="200" height="289" /></a></p>


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December 17, 2008The End and the AimRuth Bavetta

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December 17, 2008The End and the AimRuth Bavetta

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Elegy for My 1958 Volkswagen by Ruth Bavetta

The New Battery Should Come Tomorrow by Ruth Bavetta

The Fun by Ruth Bavetta

Critical Mass by Ruth Bavetta