Ron Dragano


Biography of Ron Dragano

Ron Dragano poet

I’m an elementary school teacher –
sort of a second career –
I don’t remember much of what I did before,
on purpose, I suppose. Perhaps because I’ve found some variant of it or maybe just because
I’m growing old. I am an old man on a park bench, feeding pigeons, listening to the children squeal – they sit in a circle and one whose IT collects
cold water from a nearby water bubbler; she walks outside the little group and chooses one from behind upon whom she dumps the water and runs for her vacant former seat on the grass -
up jumps the dripping child
to give chase and failing to catch the perpetrator now becomes IT
and I am IT,
tagged by some song - too slow to catch anybody, not the anybody I wanted to catch anyway, yes
I’m out with it -
I’m just a cliché – didn’t get the girl
but caught the damned disease anyway ….

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Volare

(Poi d'improvviso venivo dal vento rapito
E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito)


Waking up with the image:

The silver plane flying
Across the sun
High In a blue sky

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