some recollections from my trip to Ireland last summer with the Happy Traveler

spinning through the island of Destiny
rainbow sheep block the road
renaissance ceilings are in full bloom

spiral staircases etched in stone
echo centuries of footsteps
sharpened by pointy turrets

fairy forts and fairy trees
remain in place like lost puzzle pieces
never to be recovered

we frolick Lissadell, a winter green
so far from a summer dream

prehistoric proof lies in the bogs
revealing hard histories and red hair burning spite

magic groves and stony castles in the mist tell
honeymoon legends and the mead they kissed

celtic crosses spring up from the landscape
as rain drops bless our faces

craggy bridges arc
near grand castle serene streams
and all around endless greens

the sun breaks in the cloudy rain
Irish pubs greet with Guinness pie and Irish whiskey
giving respite to weather splinter

thatched roof neighbor and a ruined abbey
follow Galway village and Cliffs of Moher
fish & chips as light as clouds and the taste of mollusk, cold and creamy

the faeries of innisfail
flag us down, hide in shadows
st. brigid presides
while st. patrick picks clovers

it’s the magic of this island
that calls trickery in a leprechaun voice
destiny for some
a journey for all
as we discover the stories
buried in the bogs

ireland

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you spit lies to me

and i sip at sinking canoes in the harbor
before we drown together
for just a moment drinking tear water through our gills

my darts meet the water before meeting their mark
i shoot again, this time from my heart, a little straighter
to your heart, my mark

you sing a siren song and we echo together
in accordance now

we dog paddle
upon the Truth

discovering together
how to repair the sour boat
build it back to floating, dry and clean

row to shore
in time for sunset
rest in calm beauty

let Truth sink in and watch it sink again

before another day
sets its lies upon us

MoonPath by Diane Lee Moomey. See more of her incredible art at http://dianeleemoomeyart.com/

MoonPath by Diane Lee Moomey. See more of her incredible art at http://dianeleemoomeyart.com/

…plus a little music! Daniel and I have been invited to do a little poetic musical showcase at this event. We will be joined by Mr. Tom Poole on trumpet.

Tom Poole on Trumpet, Daniel Swetlik on Bass

Tom Poole on Trumpet, Daniel Swetlik on Bass

Come Celebrate Pacifica’s Birthday November 21, 2 to 4 p.m. at the Shelldance Orchid Gardens…FREE!

Orchids, violets and poetry will grace the stage for the 20th annual Pacifica Poetry and Music Festival at 2 p.m., Saturday, November 21, at the Shelldance Orchid Gardens in Pacifica.

“The beautiful orchid gardens overlooking the Pacific Ocean, are the stars of our show,” said Anna Boothe, Festival Director “and we will also have performances from our poets and musicians to help us celebrate.”

Ian Butler, fresh from being emcee at Fog Fest, will be our emcee and perform some of his new songs for us. We will also have music from the New Life Singers from the New Life Fellowship in Pacifica; poetry and music with Maurine Killough & Daniel Swetlik of San Mateo with world-class trumpet, Tom Poole, and poetry with Bill Mercer of San Francisco and Pacifica poets David Hirzel and Anna Boothe.

If You Go–The nursery is on the first road past the Police Station on Highway 1 North, marked by a sign that says, “Stop for Flowers.” Go up to the top of the hill (also an entrance to Sweeney Ridge), for parking and the nursery building. The program is free but we ask you to bring a light refreshment or beverage for our reception and book signing.  For more information, call (650) 557-9097.

ShellDancingw-DanThank you to Susan Munroe for the photos!

 

 

 

four fingers hiding, clinging stuck
peanut butter in your pocket

comfortable paste staid in their own quiet dark
stubborn fingers moaning, why must it be, why?

and what could pull you out of this butternut thicket
primordial ooze evolved to
trap your limp fist jammed in the jar

but the impulse to finger past the walls of manufactured candy cups, salted sugar imagination
covered and fooled into the sneaky center
of this candy bar life
encapsulated in a shell smoothed by words, ruling words
held tight by thoughts, entangled by the jingle in your head when half asleep.

take your hand from your pocket to tinker with the jewels, the soft songs and soaring dreams
past the squares, empty of the wonder of a fleeting moment
lighting on the tear drop of a mood, paintbrush of a tree
laughing daffodils and wild animal call…

take your hand from your pocket
show the world your treasure

the peanut butter is not your enemy, show it some sunlight
oil your skin with it, shine your bronze beauty with it and use what was hidden deep
where sunlight diamonds catch the glint of presence…

join your world
dance with your only World, this only One

eager elements wait to celebrate
what you held from view

that quality of aliveness unique to you
what you were afraid to draw out

the roots even gravity can’t hold down

that little thing inside of you that is so dazzling delight
the kernel of you, that’s been canned for so long, sealed tight

stuck

like peanut butter

in your pocket

Tree of Gold, courtesy of Ray Lobato

Tree of Gold, courtesy of Ray Lobato see more of Ray’s art at raylobato.com

youtube video from the October 10, 2015 Annual Beat Museum Poetry Festival. Thank you to Terry Adams and Fred Dodsworth for being such gracious hosts. And to the multi-talented poet extradordinaire Evan Karp of Quiet Lightening for working as videographer to capture us all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mza_BtvQ3Cg

 

cricket night

a shy night for quiet

a pause to abandon

this load

i’ve been trying to steer

this piano i’ve been trying to charge up hill

a rest from the skid-me-down, bang-me-up

a clear night to call plenty

with branches barely arcing

fully framing

the stars that glimpse me as i drop my protest

release my grip on a skewed reality

a night embracing

each new tap

each new vibration not dependent on the last

but a fresh new night to open me up

to weightless clouds

the trance of stars…

it’ll be a new day

after this last night

Art courtesy of Wendy Andrew, http://www.paintingdreams.co.uk/

Art courtesy of Wendy Andrew, http://www.paintingdreams.co.uk/

Come on out to the Beat Museum this weekend to be mesmerized and energized by a day of listening to transcendent poets read their dreams and plot stars…

Happening on Saturday and Sunday, October 10-11, 1 to 6 p.m. at the Beat Museum, North Beach, San Francisco.
I’ll be reading Saturday around 3:30 p.m.

Beat2015

 

it was a time when her plants were drying up

when the walls of home were cracking

three kings

circled the sky

motioned a signal

three stars drew her from bedlam

stripped off orbiting planets no longer calling her sun

three kings made time stop as she drove toward that airport, fireflies in the sky

orion’s belt summed it up nicely and

sat like pieces of air suspended in zeroes

saying you don’t have to be here anymore

three lights squatting like extraterrestrial talismans

said you don’t have to do this anymore.

led that queen backwards

looped her forward

past the wailing walls of

what used to be home sweet home

jetted her forward, tropics calling

flying to the popoki black night

thrice times old ways gone

thrice times, a new horizon born.

DSC_0248

Starlight, by Lisa Burns

i want it all in my own time

the coming of the tomatoes

the taste of the equinox

in my own time, when i am ready

not when the rest discovered it and left me the spoils

i want it like a ripe peach breaking from tree

apart from the orchard, in its own rhythm

apart from the echo of others

not entrained like a grafted hybrid

let me discover it

in my own time, my own fashion

trusting i will claim it when i recognize it

not when you say its here, but when I feel

the shadow speaking to me

in a language not heard, not written down

let it come to me when my own sunrise speaks morning

when my eyes behold sunset and my third eye bursts gold

let me wait until this spirit, this unique expression, is ready to bloom

and not

a moment before.

Photo copyright Rodger Helwig

Photo copyright Rodger Helwig

Dorsetta Hale, Pacifica’s Poet Laureate has introduced poetry to City Transit!poetryshuttle

The Devil’s Slide Ride Shuttle will now feature poems by local poets. My poem, mendocino in an eggshell, debuted July 25th and will run for a month.

See full article here: http://www.mercurynews.com/pacifica-entertainment/ci_28518643/poetry-now-displayed-devils-slide-ride-shuttle

devilsslideshuttle

mendocino in an eggshell

the sky is a solid eggshell

no cracks
to permit sun rays to shine in
salt vapors christen my nose, drench my paper walls
dissolving the mood that was trailing me

mother sea baptizes the shore over and over
and over
until the shore also releases whatever it’s been holding onto
leaving a blank beach of sand
curving hellos beneath me

the stillness in the air stills my spirit
but then the chilly fog, vertigo cliffs and hatcheting waves
strike me so close i can embrace
the terror and loneliness
reflected in the raw, metallic water
and colorless sky

i am afraid but mesmerized
in love, yet i shrivel in the face
of this gigantic beauty and power
that pounds and cleanses

and forces me
out of the eggshell limits
of my own little world

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Poetry Reading in Pacific Grove

Ode to Maestro Klein, Peninsula Symphony Orchestra

Performance for San Mateo County Supervisors

Poetry Reading by Maurine

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