GETTING HOME

We may fly fastest home On a broken wing -- The pain a spur onward, The goal a golden door In the near distance -- Because of the hope Or rather keen anticipation Of succor there, a warm hearth, A loaded fridge, a kitchen table and all the accouterments thereupon -- A welcome smile at the door, The dog too attentive, drooling with delight And moreso if you pet his head -- To be taken in thus, Without a question or pointed look, The secret grace of home too rare In the sad old world, Of knowing but dismissing The not important details of the day -- Come on in, they say, Come on in and sit and rest -- You are family, no guest -- Your face alone at this late hour Is a happy turn, and we are blest.

AN ISLAND IN THE MOON

No one sleeps in the sky. No one

Not even the still indescribable crocodile.

I used a crocodile head mummified

For a crystal ball, for a little while.

I have come from the countryside.

I do not believe that man is the

Most important thing of all.

The ball of white across the sky

Is why I stay up thru the night:

Occult sensitivities, peril, and flight.

Shadowed in the gibbous pale light.

SNOWFLAKE

she talked out the side
of her mouth like a gangster
i think she did a lot of
coke back in the day --
she said, rub the lining
of yr nose raw with sandpaper
then take everything you own
out in the yard in a pile
and set it on fire:
that's cocaine

"Pirate Queen, Let Me Melt Into You." 

"It is me, I write this down in the air.

I'm on mandrake time now,

Moon-root, halo'd glow as if seen

Through naked winter limbs of trees

In Vermont or perhaps the Spanish Main?

What is it like where you are now?

Does it sing a lot? Describe

The quality of light filtered thru

Your weltanschaaung, okay?" etc.

who tampers with the moon tides

the morning turns

"love is not mocked whatever use

you put it to" ~ Jack Spicer

nerve movie

there's not very much of that left, either.

as a swarm of golden bees

circle around & around & around & around & around

FOR MY FATHER (AFTER PHILIP WHALEN)

Being a modest man, you wanted

Expected an ordinary child

And here's this large, inscrutable object

ME

You recognize part of the works

Ones you first donated in 1962

But what are they doing?

The transmission slips, and

Was there a warranty? doubtless not.

Why couldn't it be more like a

Farm truck, or a sports car? Something.

Not this baroque moneypit

Which with great elaboration, gears

Spinning and too much flash of the wrong sort,

Produces a thing like this, words,

Sometimes worth $ to folks in New York, or not,

Nobody knows why.

ASCENSEUR POUR L'ECHAFAUD
but first one perfect twilight
in the middle of the river of
sunday april 15, 7:29 p.m.
(the Poet lives in the slums
of the reader's imaginary city)
it spreads out to the north & west
all green & gold, cold
in the fading light--there is no place
that the past can take place except
in the crosshairs of my big poetry gun
I rebel against the tyranny of the calendar
The muses count onetwothreefourfive
Daughters of Time, count the sun
in the green limbs what do you see?
leaves like trembling jazz notes in a nightclub
you heard once, smoky nightclub air,
you were supposed to be somewhere else
that night what happened?
But you weren't. Life is what happens
while the girls circle the pier looking
for dropped bread crumbs for gleaming
silver fish scales the waves surge
up against the pilings wetting the legs
of the waders, kush
kush.

ANCIENT EMPTINESS

I dont even wives
I walked a rap for the table
From fixtures
That we never hear me come in was good
Its never rest; theyd like a tomb
She little soul misplaced into the door tooth
She was talkin down
Upon the locusts sang off in crime
Discussed like a big bouquet
Of ancient emptiness

POEM FOR THE LOVELY LESBIAN FROM MANITOBA I SAW AGAIN THIS WEEK

my roommate said

"not only is she

not thinking of you

tonight, she is

in fact imagining

a utopian realm

somewhere far away

and wonderful yet

totally devoid of Penis."

 

well, shit.

POEM FOR EX-WIFE #3

I knew a girl who sang the blues,
I married her at length --
We lived one summer till I fled,
I didn't have the strength --

Five feet tall one hundred pounds,
I'd loved her 14 years --
I've never drunk the way I did
That season lost to beers --

She calls me now from time to time,
I listen to her keen --
My life's gone boring nowadays
Far from my drama queen.

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HEARTBREAK WITH A HAMMER

death is a rough ship
rudderless on black water,
a big cold moon
that takes up the sky
and blots out the stars,
and maybe they become
how you must be
too soon, too soon--
ah, desolation

BENEATH THE BIG BRIDGE

The swallows swirl
Beneath the bridge
In chaos, patternless
To the eye, their mud
Nests projects off
the Iron beam above --
I am looking for their
Pattern, where is it?

They are like us,
Making mudpies in the sky,
Purposeful I guess
Beyond the naked eye.

POEM

coral or old wine
i can't look out the
window without
hearing you run
up the stairs in a
rush to give me
that welcome
shuffle knock
o my girl of the
evening primroses!

REAL LOVE

i know something about love
hate & love are clarifications enough
of themselves, pleasure in the
collision & juxtaposition, when
you think about it what else is there?
the simultaneous coherent incoherency,
whole days drenched in sheets, twisted,
the air an avalanche shot with golden dust--

the morning flows like twilight in reverse,
sodden thoughts, the white arm on the
pillow, sweet in some natural way--
the sudden desire to do some manly deed,
like rustling breakfast despite the uncertain weather:
everyone knows it's windy

A WHITE BIRD

Gnarled briar pipe
On the shelf with
I-Ching coins,
Caller ID, nail
Clippers, green
Deco ashtray full
Of change, the
Bettie Page baseball
Card tilted to it,
A roach, mostly
Smoked, at her feet.

My girlfriend's hand
Passes over it, caught
In the lamp's halo,
A white bird dipping
Down so delicately down
Then upon the orange
Zig-Zags. And is gone.

HEADLONG INTO THE FLAME

it brings terrible risks (they warn)
i do not see them, only currents
of fire and air consuming me
gladly here now

it is ordinary, like smoke
although i cannot sleep
and long to burn the cities
of the earth in your name

or lay roses at your feet
love and drink and song
a madrigal to you o mine
fair damoiselle, dark like the burning sun

DINER POEM 5 A.M.

Morning rattles again
Takes a deep breath
Stirs up some early light
Along the street, blue
A little, as if a hand
Somewhere had thrown a switch
The sound rising to meet
The blue dawn light
Venus there suddenly remembered.

HOW ENTIRELY MORTAL IS THE LOVE I BEAR FOR YOU

forgive me, i am dazzled
by your sorrow darling
girl! washed away by all
this icy rain, caught up in it

my world's the blue crown
on the throne of my
kingdom of yearning, there
forg'd by tongs of hunger for you

holy and fine the pulse of
breath on your lips each
day, hope roaring out from
my excellent prayers toward you

and yet it's you. you. i ache
for love of the holy and luminous
sea, which is you, which is
the dawn there above the waves

XMAS POEM

For my sins I live in the city of Fayetteville--
Everything is clear from here at the center
To the end of my block, I can see thru the trees
Past the house with the mannikins
At seventy miles an hour--
This is my certain place, a pleasant smell of
Apples often fills the air.

June night exists, June night exists,
Even here in our December and the rain--
O you who are wrapt in velvet
Drop by sometime with a peach
In one hand & a firefly in the other,
Come sing old Cole Porter songs to me--

PERSONAL POEM

Every possible thought charged with sudden
Meaning, loose high energy, leaves skittering
In a gust American Beauty-style across the pavement
Like little children, laughing, then up up a big
Yellow lemon balloon into the blue wide sky
Right out of sight. Terrific!
Out of two eyes gazing amazed and welcoming at
Me, up late, impossible to misplace
Under this light and anticipated light--
Not: come live on the floor with me, she said, and I
Did--she didn't say that, but I would, I would