Rainy Days and Coffee

Denver cloudburst

rusty chain

Soaked to the skin

hung over brain

Parked and shivered

old brick alley

Familiar jazz window

’bout a gal named Sally

Pedaled down Eighth

corners flooded

Sedan out of nowhere

comical but sudden

Pushed her hard

both tires went flat

Found the java

there I sat

Safe and dryer

window glazed

Sheets of rain

lightning blazed

Mountains in the distance

blurred by the storm

Flecks of snow

winter born

Piles of books

known and unknown

Stories of desires

under the stones

Thomas Wolfe speaks to me

faded cover

Turn the page

plot discover

Rain declined

remarks toward the night

Pushing up Broadway

faded street light…

This poem is found on page 35-37 in Old Photographs and Wild Dreams by

John K Bucher Sr. The hardcover version is available on Amazon.com

Old Photographs and Wild Dreams

In the late nineteen nineties, during a construction boom, several blocks of downtown Los Angeles businesses closed their doors to make way for high rise luxury apartments, organic grocery concerns, workout spaces, and coffee shops. One of the stores scheduled for demolition was an antique shop with an eclectic array of sundries for sale. Since it was the last of a third-generation family, when faced with extinction, were happy to retire to a sunny climate with a generous nest egg. They held a “going out of business sale” event in which every item must go.

Some large items were from old circus venues and sideshows such as authentic costumes, old swords, and historical documents. Stuffed animals sat beside prized period furniture. After the sale was over the shop was bare except for a stack of dusty old boxes in the storage area. The boxes were moved to the alley near the dumpsters and forgotten. That same night a windstorm attacked the city and blew the boxes into the air and all over the streets. One such box contained old photographs, some over one hundred years old. Asa they blew across the city and were picked up and wondered at, stories came alive and fired a few new, wild dreams. Here are those stories.



Happened again like it did years ago…middle of the night

dreams …heavy syrupy dreams with dark corners

strange faces – unknown places

I was – I think I was …

in a bar …a mountain bar

in the mountains – woody and taxidermy specimens on the walls

dar floors and loud music

smoky and in the dead of winter

Bikes – not motorcycles – not Harleys

bicycles …dozens of them

among the people

Happy – but excited with a purpose – they bounced

vibrated and danced among the drunk patrons

all different ages, sizes and colors

the bikes ( I mean)

the drunks were about the same …

big, loud, hairy and generous …

always buying rounds

What does it mean? Hell –

if I know …but it happened again

and again and again …

maybe – it’s heaven

for some – as for me …I was there

among the dancing bikes …drinking

madness it seems – but deep down it felt good

really exquisite

So …maybe bikes go to heaven – and

they like to get together …

in bars …and drink …with humans

if so …when did this begin? Because bikes haven’t

been around forever …if so –

Maybe all this happiness they brought to humans

caused this phenomenon


I look forward to another deep dream –

trip wired by a night of fellowship

and drinking – and a cornucopia of events –

from the day – followed by sleep surrounded

by city honking – or beach sounds

or something else …

Poetry is like a painting. It contains word pictures.

If you look too closely you won’t get it. If you stand back and drink it

all in – listen to how the words sound – not just what they mean –

you might hear and see something new. Sometimes you find a poem

you can inhabit – for life.

Old Photographs and Wild Dreams is my latest book and it came out

one year ago this month. It contains about 100 poems, anecdotes, thoughts

and dribbles. I will post another one next week. In the meantime you can have your own copy as it is offered on Amazon. Thank you!

Baker Street Boys

Baker Street Boys

Some days …I awaken to still being

a Baker Street boy

A Texas fog of childhood


Old run-down house …slowly remodeled

basement shared with brother David

Tree house construction – injuries

paper route days

Rock and roll came to town

Dallas concert

Shot guns by the railroad tracks

black bass dinners

Cousins next door…funny fence stories


Growing pains…Daniel’s asthma pump

James playing under the Christmas tree

Transformative time in our childhood…personalities

….likes and dislikes…longing again for Amsden

Mrs. Cook’s History class and trips to Colorado

Funerals to remember and riding the bus

Bicycle Saturdays at the Rialto…six Pepsi caps

Mowing grass at Tanglewood…one dollar per hour

Fifty hours a week…chiggers all over…sulfur tablets

Hot summers and cold winters…sleet

Leaning to drive…drivers’ ed…license

Thinking and planning…dreams

Memories of Baker Street …boys

page 95 – 96 Old Photographs and Wild Dreams

only available in hardcover on Amazon- order yours today!

The Notorious MLG

Melrose Larry Green on Hollywood Boulevard

Old Photographs and Wild Dreams – Page 177


Year after year he smiles and sells

orange vest and winter shorts

Greenblatt kid from Brooklyn ….Melrose Avenue

sandwich board life

Talent out the ass from piano to singing – comic


Howard Stern’s WACKPACK spitfire mouthpiece …pot stirrer

Bobo & Mary Ann

No stranger to conflict…village town crier…MBA Cornell

Celebrity accountant

In spite of all the bluster, the sandpaper beliefs – heart of pure gold

gifted entertainer

Larry inspires me when I see that smile – that GRIN

This new book is for sale and only available in hard back. To get your copy click below:

Riding the Katy

The first time was special, remembering the cold

funeral in Dallas, for someone not so old

Fresh from the round house, engines did race

Denison station, big scary place

Mounting wrought iron steps to find the right seat

train car so full strange rendezvous meet

Shiny steel sculpted with curtains and wood

ladies in hosiery swishing a lilac good

Hearts beat as one when the whistle blew loud

feeling the movement riding a steel cloud

Sherman came fast fields of black dirt

gentlemen in their newspapers starchy white shirts

Gathering speed across empty winter grounds

foxes dance in the sunlight scatter at the sound

So elegant a world on heavy round wheels

windows in the dinning car table cloth meals

McKinney came next and then Dallas station

husbands and wives foreign relations

Riding the Katy a distant recall

dead rusty cars behind a rotting wall

A sweet dream of Texas gone for the time

only in dreams can you ride the Katy line

Page nine – Old Photographs and Wild Dreams

To buy a copy click here:

New Photographs and Wild Dreams


Thirty two counties and thirty two friends

Irish legends everyone of them

A pot of pure gold and an Irish grin

Step forth and enjoy the fun and sin

The walls tell the stories, ghosts whispering true

Guinness in the pint glass and Jameson not a few

Patrick is the Lord, lift up his banner

Associate with his angels and their heavenly manner

A well worn stage where music is born and played so well

Songs of a green homeland, a shepherd rings his bell

The bar is a friend to all who garnish a stool

To doubt or not believe this, why only a fool

St Patrick’s Day and Christmas, the ground swells and shakes

Funerals and birthdays, the love they do make

A star in the Almighty’s sky, the devil would agree

A long, long way from Claire, but its citizens you can see

-John K Bucher Sr,

from Old Photographs and Wild Dreams

To order a copy click on the link below:

Old Photographs & Wild Dreams


My latest book is now for sale and you can get it from the link below. This is a beautiful hard back book with 100 poems, prose and stories covering a range of subjects: trains, bicycles, bars, cafes, California beaches, streets, Denison, abstract feelings, coffee shops, night hours, Hollywood, East Texas, old preachers, and cowboys.

click on the lick below to purchase: