i dream

they come down from their gated thrones
ask for a typed page
or notarization

their eyes roll around my lopsided office
cracked steps
rusted roots
musty windows and happy spiders

i don’t have time, time for details
like spinning ewebs, crystal windows
or sinking sunsets

my plants are thirsty
but i place my stamp on their beloved page
or spin a resume
charge half price
then return to the flickering screen
the inbox and data entry

i recall my choice of business major
to dispel the family joke of being a
Basket Weaver

i type their jobs
calendar their dates
sticky web with its html is beyond me but i try
i try
and i am all tangled up

yet inside
a world away from all of that
i dream

i still dream

Art by Sarah Curtiss
go to http://www.graceartgroup.com

a new ride

There’s a new ride at the Fair! Instead of the usual mechanical rides fair-goers can waste their money on, fair-goers of the writing sort can now select from several categories and get the thrilling ride of an instant rejection letter…Free!

Just think: no need to send off a submission and wait weeks. Now you can get rejected just by asking. Of the many categories, I selected “Tilt A Whirl” and below is the dizzying rejection ride I was gifted with. Thanks to the geniuses at The Stoneslide Corrective for recognizing this need and filling it. Write On.

Double click on the image below to read the letter (click again once open and you can probably get it to magnify).

 

Rejection-be-Damned, I will be featuring at the Fair (Expo Building) next Saturday night June 15th at 7 p.m. I do hope you will join me for this poetry reading, which will be followed by a musical performance by Thomas Jay Burks.

jesus fix

just 16 and bumping along in the Moving Truck
texas to california
big brother
my jesus
drives
just him and me
sitting tall in my seat
soaking in this precious stretch of time
so hungry for my big brother

his rambling man lifestyle
left me home and lonely with just me and dad
waiting, always waiting for the surprise appearance, the coveted phone call
but now i have him all to myself on this long trip
my savior, my brother with his wild stories, adventurous life
dad follows behind with the dog in the chevy impala
right now my life cannot get any better

but my brother, my jesus
he needs a fix
confidently steers the truck with his knees
ties off his arm
my brother
jesus, he needed a fix

twisted turn of expectations
tests my faith
sucks my innocence out of the cab
into the landscape of nothing
but the passing desert

i keep look-out as best i can
try not to act shocked
show my savior i am cool
jesus, i can handle this

mentor, my brother
melting milky heroin in a spoon
squeezing my life smaller
as i watch the needle bloody his arm

holy time
i tell my faithful self
as he presents the Offering
“want to lick the spoon?”

i turn the scene into a touching moment of a home movie
a bowl of cake batter
so natural to lick that spoon
but the flavor is not creamed butter and sugar
bitter opiate pins my pupils, foams my mouth

hot Arizona hotel has a cool bathroom floor
dad assumes i am car sick
for hours i heave on that floor
and contemplate
my savior

Turmoil, courtesy of Ray Ferrer
see more of Ray’s outstanding work at https://urbanwallart.see.me/

hot coffee

steam from the espresso was screaming
coffee grounds releasing
dark excitement into plain water

 he brushed past me in line
evoking a charge
it waved through my body
this magnetic sensation
that was like
like caffeine vibrating my skin

his proximity so near
it
it left my breath in a pant
and i
i ordered an espresso
in a demitasse
i sat down, listened to the drip
of coffee conversation
tasted a perfectly shaped note of Ohhhh that’s good
so hot
sped my heart, made me sweat
and i
i looked around for that fellow
the one who caused such a steam

the guy who burned my lips
with his heat

Art Courtesy of Biljana Zovkic
See her blog at: http://biljanazovkic.wordpress.com/biljana-zovkic-the-world-of-my-voice-poems/

See Biljana’s website at: http://www.biljanazovkic.com/

the rhythm of blue

this is one of my favorite pieces by artist Sarah J. Curtiss. An ekphrastic poem I have written for it follows.

lost in the sway of
umpha-tumpha
umpha-tumpha
umpha-tumpha-tat

orion is electrified
the stars never felt so good sizzling into my pores
this twilight solitude is sanctuary

i hitch a ride on the beat
it carries me to that threshold
between sea and celestial
between green and violet
where I fade into the rhapsody

beyond self
beyond material
beyond the blood and the breath

beat
in accordance
tune
to the music

of the ultimate
the sacred
the spiraling deep inside
to the realm
of divinity

proof poetry is importable to politics

I was cheered by the supervisors this morning who demonstrated they have a genuine love of and interest in poetry. I felt pretty important when I saw that my poem had been printed on County Letterhead and a stack was available for all the audience to take! But I could barely read my poem after Supervisor Warren Slocum surprised me by announcing that two of my poems (I don’t know which ones yet) placed FIRST and SECOND at this year’s County Fair.
I AM SO BLOWN!

i get a mention in the daily journal

San Mateo County considers a Poet Laureate program!
Tomorrow I will be reading Mendocino in an Eggshell to the San Mateo County Board of Supervisors in support of approving the first-ever Poet Laureate program for our county!
Read Daily Journal article here…

viento…a reprint in honor of the crazy wind today

i’m watching you
stirring everything to a frenzy
your wires crossed
you don’t know which direction you are going

flinging up dust
and whatever else you can grab onto,
charging skin electric
frazzling nerves with your silent shrieks

everything you touch, you rock
push this way and back
inside you are wailing
wailing tremors of grief
outpouring bellows from some unspeakable blow

until you stop for a moment to get your breath
and everything sucks in the calm
before you roar out again
shaking us up, clanging our fists shut

there’s no one to console you
no prayers or offerings from
we powerless observers
who have lost the art of speaking to you
except to curse your outbursts

we shrink from your emotion
annoyed at your undefined rage
slink away inside
from your venting gusts

your siren only sounds
in the velocity of your pressure
your scream is hidden
inside your force

your howls are vagrant banshees
until maybe in a day
or in a few weeks
your grief will find its resting place

you’ll reach consolation, pull your breath back into yourself
and begin to dance your easy sway again
i will feel your soft breath on my cheek
and i will feel peace is here at last.

art, courtesy of janice rocke

in response to flaming inspiration

Larry Potts, an award-winning singer/songwriter surprised me with his response to my “flaming inspiration” piece. hope you enjoy it

Eros never had it so good.

Flame and desire equal elements
to inspire the artist who unconsciously remembers
what the Muse told him:

pay attention to the woman
pay homage to the woman
without her you are nothing.

Strokes on the canvas only capture
her fleeting after-passions: so very close
to what just happened:

Oh yes, she draws you out like summer heat
and your thirst is quenched
only by her passion and her perfect still union
slumbering in the ecstasy of
her freely given pleasure: what’s left in repose?

just this: color of orange fire

Photo copyright Rodger Helwig

el paso

her name was Irma

y ella no habla engles

so when i got home from school i would prattle off my pigeon Spanish

and she would make me sopapillas

my brother would blow in with his junky girlfriend and a new puppy

they would fuck on my bed and it would smell like pussys and dicks

he would haul the stolen goods up to our apartment

a mounted deer head, a gold clock, bags of things and stow them

my dad would uselessly protest

Irma would disappear right when we needed her most

leaving us with piles of puppy poop and dirty sheets

then my brother would blow out again

and after dad and i were done cleaning the house

Irma would promptly return and make me sopapillas

pillows of fried flour tortillas sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon

i loved Irma.

courtesy of Ray Lobato, see more of Ray’s art at raylobatoart.com