t h e   b e a t

birds. ode

 

this could be an ode ..

sort of – for birds

 

birds are stars .. ok,

used to be stars &

they wanted to check out

the plain earth plane

and of course they stay

in the air in the tops

of high trees & chart the natural

and the unnatural

contours from above

for the selfish purpose

of memory because

in another incarnation

these memories

these haunt sensual memories

will surely sustain them

≡

rains.

  

the sky 8.00pm, june, spoke of rain

winds grumbled, clouds angered

kids fell upon kids upon ground

mothers called from windows doors

inside some houses radios jazzed

inside some houses dinners ate

inside some houses lovers tranced

 

shoulders of rain above &

the scent of rain below

a carpet of july sky clouds

wait in blue panels

they wean on an airy food

and materialize at will

they become laden with grief

they cry the longest tears

 

bless then the rain this morning

rain that baths even the ground,

the tree, the chevy, all are cupping

their hands up to the sonatas of rain ..

next day, after rain, the few clouds

are pale in the new wash skies

an august desert city has faith

that the irregular cloud ships

will unload its wet curtains of cargo

and that its lightning will reveal

the cracks in the dome & that

the thunder will reveal the rotary-works

in the atmosphere ..

sky

sprinkles

september .. such soft spills

≡

morning

  

morning cannot help it

ever early every day

it stains the air behind

the mountains,

the sangre de cristos,

and warms the dots

of clouds from gray

to rose to puff ivory

and the sky canvas

becomes slow lemon

and the snoring hours

stretch & wake into

a soaked morning

≡

a woman

  

in a bowl

in the south rockies

i know a woman

with a house of rye

terraced rogue flora

porcupined dogs

a brooking acequia

a guardian elm &

a soggy path

to the muled pasture

and to a growling orchard

of apples, hammocks

and wild plums

and also ..

 

the is a wind

carrying a sonnet ..

lyrics of woman’ visions

made visible

≡

summer

  

first day may

summer arrives

as an early guest

a brilliant instigator

safflower & intense

in our south west

 

this we have seen before ..

wicca & white charms

fever & the red liturgy –

for this is the season

of fires waiting to be born

and how good it is that

we are lost in a desert

of our own making

and how good it is that

the self now can become known

≡

men

 

men gather

at the railyards

groups in rough faces

assemblies in parks

half moon circles

nervous conclaves

narrow pools of men

in parking lot edges

murmuring male magic

waiting for the sun

to crest the east

mountain morning

that reflects in the

longing surfaces

of the men

as they men wait

for the boss man

to arrive to pick them

for day labor, manual work

-yet are these men

national mexico proud

and mustly anyone +

women could admire

the lean fire of these men

≡

jean

 

every today

jean paints a poem

at the same one

she painted yesterday

and will paint the next day

the next week until the colors

sings in her steep canvases

and too because it is also true

that she can seldom speak of

her inner caravan of feelings

therefore she must clearly

write them

with her animated paints

every today

≡

letter to janet

 

 i write you from in the central coast

carmel is some joke .. a trap for those tourists

but for i, it is a place of departing

and there so down highway one south

to san simeon, witness a measure

of land & sea near devoid of humanity

and industry .. completely stern & simply mystic

 

i will want to sent you a choral of tides

and cries bound in coarse olive seaweed

+ eucalyptus & & weightless parcels

of air tasting of salts & spikes of rain

 

in the park state park big sur

i am stopping to watch clouds

play with sun then i am driving

the curving roads near cape san martin ..

roads of confession of fine terrors

and these i will send, too

≡

letter to colleen

 

your card postcard arrived ..

i hold in hand a rectangle

of arizona scenarios –

sand & canyons, angels

and innocent men .. salt skies

and pepper heat –

composed perfect

 

shall i reply?

a first april lime leaf

an arc from a timbered trail

or a benediction

by parcel post

≡

letter to jo(ann)

 

you are just what we needed

another romantic refugee

in los angeles county ..

soon the government will set up

their ancient canvases on the beach

at santa monica and the runways

at lax .. while in the capital

liberals will gesture heroically

as conservatives insinuate

to investigate the increasing

incidences of affections undone

≡

letter to penny

  

i am sending you this

from your future ..

that one that you built

on willful seeds &

capable woods

and that one that

you irrigated

you cultivated

because you knew

of the inevitable fury

of a woman duly empowered

≡

letter to deb(bie)

  

how i wished i lived near

near to your difficult vision

 

vision you have captured

in hand sized machines,

slow film, silver water,

and on english paper

 

paper i can hold in my hand

that i might know who you are

thru what you can do & how

≡

grace

  

was the last time

i saw grace .. los angeles

a 10^th floor of offices

 

our friend worked there

and i wait with grace ..

her short dress her short hair

and long heels & long coat

≡

play

  

there are many kids in our neighborhood

they are a soundtrack on bicycle on foot

racing thru sidewalks, parking lots, stairs,

grass, playgrounds, & chasing ice cream trucks

+ too, the falling day star before it darks

before the two three four more weeks

then soon school but for now they are blissed

as they never walk a straight line nor smooth

their hair, their clothes and the children speak

a laughing language for their lives are a delirious traffic

                and also they try not to see the real deal adults

in their thick suits with their dull cases as these adults

lumber to work not play

≡

down

  

so falls an autumn

 

it must be why leaves go down down

to a south america for its latin spring

≡

snow

  

judy in minnesota knows the fine art of snow ..

she understands the birth of snow along the canals

between st paul & st cloud .. she understands

the grave widths of a flake & its metaphysical weight

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

CHECK THIS OUT >>> an audio reading of a few poems: