In the AM sun Hear this poem?
In the AM sun
of the Fillmore bus
this man
a study of fine lines
rough creases
rustling hands
in his twisted bag of pecans
offers some as his talk wanders
to the house wife
whose robe is too small
her feet bulge
over her blue house slippers
because their eyes meet
he offers
his food
for considerations
a listener,
she knows enough to say
no
I'm on a special diet
with a smile,
he returns
to the pecans
at the very bottom
of the small bag
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The whites of her eyes Hear this poem
The whites of her eyes
float up
in the black coffee
staring
accusing they
always come back I
see
her eyes
float up
in orange juice
in hot brown chocolate
they
upset
the marshmallows
I always
have to spoon them out
spoon them out
before I drink
very very carefully
I don't want to hurt them at all
spoon them out
spoon them
onto a napkin
let them dry
and
stare at you!
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Tarzan Hear this poem?
Yellow black saber stripe
leap of wild mouth tiger
on Tarzan's back
Tarzan says:
"Not tonight honey,I'm tired,
really am bushed,"
and he turns on his side to the lamp
Tarzan says
to Natasha Svelte
in a midnight dress
at tiffany restaurant
tete a tete, glass clink,
"I can't go out on Friday.
I have a business appointment
in Sumatra,
must fly over night clouds
in silver plane."
And she'd been checking out
this conventioneer anyway
is cool she says, "Oh?"
Tarzan rips open 'gator mouth,
cold water clouds,
swims like hell,
yells his way
through the jungle,
and elephants roar!
Tarzan says,
"I want more money, lots.
Tarzan says:
"What about the concessions
and royalties on my Mattel model and...
what about the lump in its crotch?"
Tarzan
fights German scientist hunters
who have radioactive blue eyes,
who want,
animals for experiments.
Their guns
rattle like angry sticks and bones
hunched on safari shoulders.
Tarzan watches from the trees,
lives in a Louis the 16th apartment,
white with gold
filigree trim, curled plush chairs
and palm trees.
He eats from a tray
of jet black teak
inlaid with aged ivory.
And I saw his name
finger written
in an amateur cement job
enlarging a driveway.
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I ask myself ... Hear this poem?
To ask myself if this is difficult
no
this is
easy
sitting with time and tea at the window
how the glass meets the wind
now
that time of report card signing
seems immediate
brows fevered cooling measles now
washing clothes now
meals
their cooking
and planning always planning
so
difficult
yet I was not lost somehow
I am still
worried
sad or somehow
are they reading
between the lines of my face?
I receive pretty cards and notes
Miles and holidays
its called
a generation gap
Do they know me now?
I understand them they understand
I am still
feel and
One by one
birds cross blue skies
I watch from my window
frost
one by one
the leaving
colors fall to the brown earth
smooth as skin
I notice the gaps
between my fingers
the shape of the spaces
notice a ring
a man
and memories
In the autumn
it is difficult
I accept
three children grown
and married.
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Morning Song Hear this poem
exhausted
fallen away
the lime blossoms
give all they can
to be with us
so
these are for you
from the seventh garden
smell
these special limes
fresh from the trees
blessed
by the birds
whose fleet song
taper this summer eve
come
walk here with me
until Venus
rises over these hills
she'll unfold in the heavens
as we watch her
she'll embroider each flower
and leave a morning song
within each drop of dew
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Set of Haiku Hear these poems
early morning spring
here in the apple trees
the Mission's Alleluias
on matted dry grass
the scattering of black
and white feathers
night, deserted street
turning to the approaching sound!
a scuttling leaf
in the clover's cleft
the drop shines
with all the sun inside
birds over the sea
calling farther and farther
on into the sound
in the dunes shoes with
socks neatly tucked in and grass
growing out their tops
empty living room
sitting at the cold clean hearth
singing for the last time
He crosses the room
his steps rebound in the cup
a tea leaf settles
rainwater running
in the steep roadside gully
taking the pink balloon
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The Tree Hear this poem.
There is a tree
That shades my yard
and dapples where I lay.
I rest beneath
Its great old limbs
And dream throughout the day.
Summer winds wane,
Birds flit and caw,
I hardly move at all.
A book lays near
Though it is closed
And hides away my scrawl.
Its days like this,
When time is slow,
And dreams go idly by
That I wonder at
The sky above
And gently let a sigh.
Let no one chance
To chide my ways
As they their life's toils plan.
For the muse so set
Within my heart
Exceeds the reaper's span.
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Fair Helen Hear this poem.
Aeolian stars, soft night air
Aegean beauty ever fair
Dancing through the hall in her prime
Sweet Helen looses no grace with time.
Millennium's girl, it is true,
I still fashion a blush on you.
Your sweet glances caught, shimmering
While lyre and muse set singing.
Ardent whispers given and caught
While no one knew what would be wrought.
Sweet Helen's constellate beauty
Was their clarion for duty.
They set sail for Ileum bound
And brought its battlements to ground.
Fervent love returned at last -
Forgiven all for what was past.
And when, in time, your guise gave way
The vigil was kept night and day.
Men stayed on, stood close at hand
Guarding the treasure of their land.
Then, when your blink was slowly missed,
A maiden's hand touched at your wrist.
But here, now, though ages have passed,
Your beauty continues to last.
What is the mystery we have here
Why should this tale be so dear?
Could it simply somehow be
A story worth eternity?
Or do we now lack their sense?
Does it chide our indifference?
Dear sweet Helen I give you this,
My respect, in a lover's kiss.
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The Manifold Manners of Means
(commonly called: Life's Tune) Hear this poem.
Through a flower's flow of colors
And autumn wind's undone
And the still white of the winter
Under a sharp and glinting sun;
Through a meal with good old friends
All with family heartily bound
And the stories by the campfire
And songs that are pass'd 'round;
Through the smells of summer grasses,
Through the Redwood dells a' dawn,
After moonless nights, a' sunrise,
Where to gleaming shores we've gone;
Through the words we banter daily,
The common office jest,
Through the phrases that we know by,
That language we speak best;
Through the hearts on fire - and winging,
Through the thoughts that wing o'er the swell,
Through the spirit that comes unto us,
We know we're one as well.
The community of the heart brings one
On tender, on above
To present the present to us
In the quietest ways of love
The quietest way,
The quietest ways,
In the quietest way
Of love:
"With each breath we breathe
In each moment that we last,
Before our eyes, in an eye's blink,
We make the future and the past!
And so it happens that each day,
Whether by chance or through an old song,
Opportunity will knock as you go -
To pass life's tune along.
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