Joe Fusco, Jr. has been the featured poet at venues all over Massachusetts, including Java Hut, Moonstruck Café, Plantation Club and Poet's Parlor. Among his chapbooks are the titles Death and Other Happy Endings, and Poems I Don't Read at Barnes & Noble. His poems have appeared in Worcester Magazine, Ominvore, Lancaster Times and elsewhere. Joe has been in the supermarket business for twenty-eight years; he lives in Worcester. Joe has written eighteen songs, likes to read serial-killer novels and plays in a forty-and-over basketball league. He loves to eat!
Poems from Joe's new chapbook, Yogurt, may be found
on the Joe Fusco, Jr. homepage.
Also check out his
section on Valerie & Walter Crockett's homepage.
Three samples of the poet's work:
Galileo Vs. Copernicus
Sometimes I look out from the darkness of
our bedroom
And spot the glow of the night-light in
our bathroom
And think of it as a shining star
And make wishes for its countenance.They never come true.
You say I overestimate its powers.
“It’s just a night-light,” you say,
“It helps you not to fall in the tub.”
How Marriages Should End
My brother-in-law employs two strategies when
He desires guests to leave his home:
If it’s been an outdoors’ event, he folds up every
Unoccupied chair ’till the hangers-on get the message
And depart.
If it’s been an indoors’ affair, he plugs in the
Dust-buster and sucks up the debris in every room ’till
The house is guest-free.I wish we knew of these two time-saving
Techniques at the end of our marriage.
Instead of lying & cheating & not coming home, I would
Have folded up the chairs except one and asked you
To sit on it
Instead of drinking heavily, falling into depression, then
Finally stating “Can’t you understand! I don’t love
You anymore,” I would have dust-busted around that
Chair ’till even you saw the Big Picture and departed.Imagine the pain & bitterness we could have avoided
With just a folding chair & a household-cleaning
Appliance.
Cremation
When Uncle Johnny passed away,
Aunt Mary scattered his ashes
In the sandbox by the old metal
Swings.
When Jo-Jo visits,
She makes him a peanut-butter & jelly sandwich,
Gives him a dollar for his bank,
Then (weather permitting)
Has him play with his great-uncle in the
Backyard.
Robin FuscoMy wife says Jo-Jo’s a little concerned because
he’s grown some pubic hairs.
We go into the bathroom, man to man, and inspect
the few wispy, blond strands.
“That’s not a problem,” I reassure my eight-year-old son.
“It just means you’re getting to be a big boy.”Cyndi asks if I had hair in that area at his age.
“Like Sherwood Forest,” I reply.
4 Cigarettes, 2 Lesbians, and a PizzaMy kids take me to All-You-Can-Eat-Pizza for $3.99 at
Papa Gino’s Tuesday night.
Two young women (17 to 19) sit at the table next to
us, light up cigarettes, and start making out.
One of my daughters (16) says, “gross,” and can’t finish
the rest of her meal. My other two daughters (15 and 13)
stare and giggle. My son (8) is puzzled and asks me
if girls are supposed to do that to each other.
“Not usually, but it’s no big deal,” I reply.
The two young women light up cigarettes again, entwine
their bodies like a soft pretzel, and click the round
piercings in their tongues together like castanets.
The dining room is a captive albeit silent audience.
“You know this is a non-smoking section, ladies,”
I finally scold them.
They mumble something about, “homophobe,” and walk over
to the smoking area where they resume their gymnastics.
An elderly woman comes over to our table.
“Thank god you said something,” she exclaims,
“That smoke was really bothering me.”
Hear Joe performing, as 1/2 of The Inflatables,
his song “Gas Grill”:
ASF audio ("streaming" audio, lower
quality sound) [alternate
ASF audio]
MPEG-3
audio file (larger file, higher quality sound)
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