217.
You can tell the sun it’s a sun
And that I know of larger
Far far away where I’m coming from
Friday, June 24, 2011
FROM: BOOK OF EARNEST TEARS/TIMELESS JAZZ/CALLING THE DREAMS BLUFF/GHOST LOVE/REVIVAL THROBBING
218.
Every planet eventually drifts into the sun
Whatever a sun is
All we can do is believe in something we’ve never seen
But belief is strong
Life becomes exterminated briefly in a long dream
The memory of your life-body moves on
Hopefully to a better dream transition
How big was the raindrop
When it first began dropping
The starting point of the note is ineffable
It almost comes out of silent vibration
I am awaiting an invisible stranger to become visible
Could be a materialized projection; maybe my life is
A pre-recorded series of events and gravity stops
Me during those moments of déjà vu
Who and what and where and whom will be there
When I wake up to the dream being over
Whatever that is
I believe in efficient creation.
Every planet eventually drifts into the sun
Whatever a sun is
All we can do is believe in something we’ve never seen
But belief is strong
Life becomes exterminated briefly in a long dream
The memory of your life-body moves on
Hopefully to a better dream transition
How big was the raindrop
When it first began dropping
The starting point of the note is ineffable
It almost comes out of silent vibration
I am awaiting an invisible stranger to become visible
Could be a materialized projection; maybe my life is
A pre-recorded series of events and gravity stops
Me during those moments of déjà vu
Who and what and where and whom will be there
When I wake up to the dream being over
Whatever that is
I believe in efficient creation.
FROM: BOOK OF EARNEST TEARS/TIMELESS JAZZ/CALLING THE DREAMS BLUFF/GHOST LOVE/REVIVAL THROBBING
219.
Grassroots needs to be monopolized
All for the common universal issue
No longer exchanging in…
Grassroots needs to be monopolized
All for the common universal issue
No longer exchanging in…
Sunday, June 19, 2011
DANCING IN MY ROOM
I want to dance alone in my room
Adorned in my swan costume
I'll have to follow footprints on the ground
A sort of merriment by diagram
I want to dance for hours and hours
It's too late for fruit
Too soon for flowers
Adorned in my swan costume
I'll have to follow footprints on the ground
A sort of merriment by diagram
I want to dance for hours and hours
It's too late for fruit
Too soon for flowers
MY HAPPY GERANIUM
I'm into Nirvana
While my fathful companion
My house geranium
Sitting quietly
Meditating
Breathing in and out
Prefers Sinatra
Other than this
It's domestic bliss
While my fathful companion
My house geranium
Sitting quietly
Meditating
Breathing in and out
Prefers Sinatra
Other than this
It's domestic bliss
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Mowing Window
In between the rains today,
I had to mow the meadow moist
and choked the blades some fourteen times
with grass and clover as thick as cheese.
And when I clawed the terminating turf
free of the discharge port
and carried the double handful,
steaming to the mulch pile,
the juices ran between my fingers
like hot, green wine.
And now my soggy knees, my curses
and my misery are all beside the point;
that nothing in my universe smells
anywhere as good
as moist, mown meadow.
San Juan Poets Anthology on Its Way to Becoming
We are currently putting together an anthology of poetry from the blog, which will be published as a (hard copy) book. We will be gathering the poems this week, so if you have any new work you would like to be included, get it out there this week!
Thanks to everyone who has participated over the years! It should be fun seeing it all together in a chap book!
Thanks to everyone who has participated over the years! It should be fun seeing it all together in a chap book!
Saturday, June 4, 2011
#2212 20110602
Lingering
emotional impression
An inverse of the trails
left by a flashlight
in the night
Fill out the story.
A songs' bass line.
Knowing
that this is
always there but
not always fully
aware of it;
Echo.
emotional impression
An inverse of the trails
left by a flashlight
in the night
Fill out the story.
A songs' bass line.
Knowing
that this is
always there but
not always fully
aware of it;
Echo.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Tower
Let them build.
The people
Whose hands searched
Endlessly.
Twining within
The myriad of
Trembling fingers
The weight of stone.
Stacked,
Smoothed,
Shined,
Repeated.
Like this,
It could never topple.
It erected itself,
Days upon days of hands
Connecting stone with its brother,
Becoming automatic
Even in sleep,
Until each breath
Was a wall built,
Steadied,
Risen.
The days,
Were counted by the cracks formed.
Years,
Measured in its height.
Inch by inch,
A decade drew near
And then another.
Before long,
Each foot became
Its own century.
Another section,
Another history,
Another life.
Soon
The tower,
Born by the strain
Of dreaming bodies,
Entangled in the
Weathered vines of time,
Relinquished
The ownership of the world.
And became its own
Life,
Its own death,
Its own sun and sea.
It dreamt of heaven
As the slumber of
Mineral bodies
Near an endless,
Luminous world.
Starlight
Reached;
Washing clean
The fingerprints
Of sculptors,
Slaves,
Teachers,
Students.
It held no memory
Save that of the sky.
The people
Whose hands searched
Endlessly.
Twining within
The myriad of
Trembling fingers
The weight of stone.
Stacked,
Smoothed,
Shined,
Repeated.
Like this,
It could never topple.
It erected itself,
Days upon days of hands
Connecting stone with its brother,
Becoming automatic
Even in sleep,
Until each breath
Was a wall built,
Steadied,
Risen.
The days,
Were counted by the cracks formed.
Years,
Measured in its height.
Inch by inch,
A decade drew near
And then another.
Before long,
Each foot became
Its own century.
Another section,
Another history,
Another life.
Soon
The tower,
Born by the strain
Of dreaming bodies,
Entangled in the
Weathered vines of time,
Relinquished
The ownership of the world.
And became its own
Life,
Its own death,
Its own sun and sea.
It dreamt of heaven
As the slumber of
Mineral bodies
Near an endless,
Luminous world.
Starlight
Reached;
Washing clean
The fingerprints
Of sculptors,
Slaves,
Teachers,
Students.
It held no memory
Save that of the sky.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Densities 562
I'm okay
but I'm not okay about being okay
you know?
you know what I know I know it
like an invisible government
like a public mind
distracted family members
caught in tableaux
vivants and back again
feet in cement
just one more piece of scandal
exposed
but I'm not okay about being okay
you know?
you know what I know I know it
like an invisible government
like a public mind
distracted family members
caught in tableaux
vivants and back again
feet in cement
just one more piece of scandal
exposed
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Densities 465
my heart will self destruct
at the end of its poem
hands and feet enslaved
to the task
it took almost 60 years to open
my fist
with the other hand
that hid itself in shadows
let me say it again
I love you
with a love
that has nothing to do
with you
no matter what you believe
there’s more to it
at the end of its poem
hands and feet enslaved
to the task
it took almost 60 years to open
my fist
with the other hand
that hid itself in shadows
let me say it again
I love you
with a love
that has nothing to do
with you
no matter what you believe
there’s more to it
Sunday, March 6, 2011
#2195 20110306
Picking sheep wool
off of the
Ocean spray
scratching posts
The raven couple
prepares
to pad their nest;
practical harmony.
off of the
Ocean spray
scratching posts
The raven couple
prepares
to pad their nest;
practical harmony.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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