Monday, April 27, 2020

Latitude & Lostitude

A dragonfly drops into the yard
lands on the rock rose
asks "Did you hear about Lewis?"

"All rivers flow into the sea" etc, but
then what?
                      An exercise in planned obsolescence
falling thru the trap-door in a shopping cart
abandoned beneath the 4th Street Bridge

Summer Breeze
Foxtail grass, the songs of dead poets,
& that Chevy El Camino wrapped in caution tape
parked outside the bait shop

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Air the Color of Wind

for Leweye

"Whether we are free enough
                                     to say good-bye"
is what I'm hearing
                    a voice with a hint of Texas in it

& the soft rustling of reeds at the river's edge
just a breath away from here

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Lewis MacAdams, 1944-2020

Rest easy my brother.

Saturday, April 18, 2020

Tone Deaf

Rocking the phraseology of April
a type of currency

         snare drums & Ave Marias

                  except she meant every word of it

& like crossing the bridge between
summer rain & revelation
"There's more where that came from"

where it went

The clouds over Four Mile Beach
resembling ancient Chinese poems

         & why not the singing telegram
                  & whatever was spray-painted
                           on the overpass

Thursday, April 9, 2020

The Square Root of Ground Zero

In the transparent & possibly forgettable confluence of myth & biology, a quick spark of light or recognition, after the long swim & the engendering, determines the color of yr eyes. The 3 sisters in their dirty white robes kneeling on a blanket throwing dice & keeping score. The numbers written in indelible ink. The construction proceeds according to preset measures along w/the selected variables. Limited options to be sure. An architecture built from the inside out. Proteins & carbons & lots of water. The wiring can be a little tricky.

Images of an ancient Hawaiian cave burial. Dead body placed in a fetal position. Many Native American tribes buried their dead in a fetal position as well, sometimes in a basket or clay urn. We'd like to believe there's a meaning to it all.

Bathed in a golden light he crouches & waits & eventually emerges on a rainy night in February 1956. The place is Saint John's Hospital in Santa Monica, California. Saint John's Hospital was founded by the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth in 1942. Saint John the Apostle was the author of the Gospel of John, the 3 Epistles of John, and the Book of Revelations. He was the only one of the 12 Apostles to die of natural causes. Santa Monica was named after Saint Monica, the mother of Saint Augustine. She is the patron of difficult marriages, disappointing children, victims of adultery, & the sacred conversion of relatives.

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

The Orient Express

Stagelit streets descending
as in Tangier
or Todos Santos
or an Albuquerque by the sea
w/Jesus Christ
(or is it Keith Richards?)
riding across the beach on a crocodile

The salt spray
the stuttering neon archives
& the slow fade
bending harmonicas in the dark
concert hall of the heart

Even if the dance goes sideways
we know the spirit moves
has moved
is moving
though not perhaps as we had at first imagined

I no longer recognize the face that
stares back at me from the bathroom mirror
but that's okay
it's clear that whoever he is he
doesn't recognize me either
though we're both wearing the same Yater t-shirt
w/the blood stain on the left shoulder
as in the Palatine Anthology

Meanwhile the marine layer flattens out
as light & shadow trade places
excavating the protocols of redemption
dropping leadweight epiphanies in the green room
& I'm digging my way to China
w/a plastic spoon