Fast Day 247 February 25 2012 {Lost Gifts of December}

Lost Horizons and Times Past

Lost Gifts of December

There is a bracelet,
or a necklace...
rhodolite or rosarine...
somewhere between here
and the North Pole.

There are toy trains,
or siddurim,
Talmud black and smokey...
fallen in the snow
somewhere during Hanukkah.

There is an angel
or studda baba...
a knock comes on the door;
standing in suspense,
somewhere in Palestine.

There is a garden,
Arcadia,
where birds sing Christmas carols,
secret paradise
lost horizon!
--

I'm getting ahead for the usual reasons. Poetry is a tough Task-Master.

rosarine  - I believe I made this word up; essentially a semi-precious stones used for rosary beads.
siddurim - books of prayers

Fast Day 246 February 18 2012 {To A Young Niece}

To A Young Niece

It is in media res;
there is a young girl dying
leaving husband and two kids behind:
one hundred miles of footsteps
in freshly fallen snow...
big-flake and powdery
that leaves plain tracks,
steps abrupt and stop -
in the middle of an open field,
and look around in surprise.

O, Sister, where art thou?
Come back and sit a spell:
annul the sumptuary laws of death,
and evoke the vanity of palaver
around the roaring fire,
talk of love once more,
and boyfriends, beauty,
and love yet again!
giggling around your High School lockers...
cheerleader on the golden shore!

---
notes

To me, she is always young and a kid, so I imagine her again in High School.
She passed this morning.

Fast Day 245 February 11 2012 {That Shirt I Shall Call Grandmother}

For Valentine's Day   2012


That Shirt I Shall Call Grandmother!


she
the world is a river, flowing to the sea;
my love is in his canoe of strong, white birch
following the world far away from me!

he
the world is a camp, in a river’s bend;
my love sings, grinding corn in a stone mortar:
my memory is obsidian!

she
flaked arrows and stone points, hundreds; ev’ry kind
tomahawks and axes: flint, quartz, and jasper;
yet he plays at quoits in my dreaming mind!

he
she braided me a shirt, white cowrie shell color:
I wear her breast against mine; I call it girl…
woman… lover… that shirt I shall call grandmother!

--
notes
a duet for lovers apart. they think of the past, present, and the future of their lives.

Fast Day 244 February 4 2012 {To A Spouse Serving In Afghanistan}

To A Spouse Serving In Afghanistan

Boot buckles in the mud room,

unfastened on the floor;

scarves and mittens on the bench,

and coats hung on the door;

and all our togetherness,

like movie tickets in a drawer…

How long do you vacuum until Christmas glitter’s gone away?

The store-bought sparkling snow you spread on Santa’s sleigh?

How long after Christmas will you find needles on the floor?

How long will we be apart, how long will last the war?

Spray snow on the window pane,

a star beneath the chair;

a stash of ancient fruit cake

we did not think to share;

forgotten Christmas CDs,

unheard like my prayer…

How long do you vacuum until Christmas glitter’s gone away?

The store-bought sparkling snow you spread on Santa’s sleigh?

How long after Christmas will you find needles on the floor?

How long will we be apart, how long will last the war?

--

notes

Late getting this one up, as I am.... well, I was going to say I was busy, but perhaps I am pre-occupied with my happiness.
I was cleaning a few days ago, and the elusive remnants of the holidays made this pop into my head...

Welcome January 30 2012

Welcome to Mafe Castaño,  raibishni38,  DIANA,  JB HERO,  and also to  하나의 동지  into the group listed on the right.
You are all welcome to be the laboratory subjects upon whom I test my unauthorized and unapproved poetries. 

I was thinking about when I started this enterprise: a wish for peace, something-something about fasting, and various poorly defined goals washing about in my head. To use a metaphor, sloshing about in the soup tureen of my brain: various ingredients of the bouillabaisse of my discontent...
vague plans for peace floating like fish heads, religious impulses layered like crustaceans, secretive oysters, fame and its rewards goggling like the eyes of fresh shrimp...

No peace, no fame, just some hungry days. I had checked other peace blogs, and many had fallen by the wayside, and had not been updated for months and months and months... I think the people involved probably went on to better things, although they may have merely tired of the novelty of giving a rip about such things like blind Peace and his Brothers.
No matter. I believe "Fast Day 260" will be the mark of 5 years completed. I distinctly remember wondering if I had the "imagination" and the "wit" to do a poem-thing every bloody week. Well, some are pretty crude and some are awful, but at least I stuck to it, and I am glad for that. I really can't think of anything more depressing and more repellent than the evidences of thwarted good intentions... strewn about like empty peace blogs no one cares about.

I think sticking to the project matters. The outcomes might be far different from what we originally imagined: peace may not come in our lifetimes and we may not find a harmony of life, but we will find something, and it is that something that is important.
No efforts are wasted. We are Pioneers of the Future. We are the Stewards of the garden of the Earth, and we till and harvest it during our tenure. Our homes are like the homes of Pioneers where nothing goes to waste.  Our desires may not be fulfilled, our prayers may not be answered, but nothing that we do is in vain.
--

Fast Day 243 January 28 2012 {Adolescence}

Adolescence

Hitler was, like, the suicide guy
torn apart by dogs
his body scattered like a dark Osiris,
one part to each yawning country of the earth;
had a voice like a wolf, had a grey eye, too;
on cable, like, all the time
a total frikkin’ evil badass:
Doctor No with atom bomb drug needle,
waiting to throw into my hayrick.

Fight Club Bob stands nearby,
three hundred pounds
of self-improvement, self-destructive flab:
obese from too much yoga and playing catch-up
with meditation sessions
he had no time for,
and that Dalai Lama interview
he just recorded over
with the latest candidates’ debate.

My mother threw open
my closed bedroom door;
My teacher told me that kindergarten
kids no longer cry; the priest hushed me, saying that
I spoke my sins too loudly:
everyone could hear!
their steely faces began to melt,
they touched themselves in silent awe,
eye dilation on confessional jacuzzi!
leave fascist hearts behind!

--
notes

hayrick = haystack

Fight Club Bob = The character Bob in the film Fight Club

jacuzzi   =   an odd word, prone to anagrams...........

What I'm trying to accomplish:
(1) interest in powerful symbols, lack of historical education (our education system), and new symbols based on the old ones not properly understood... (like, what does it matter anyway? Symbols are way too big for our little problems.)
(2) the feeling of being an outsider, like a large person - Bob - who was almost too large for Project Mayhem. He became part of Project Mayhem, which made him an official outsider to normal society.
(3) sex and guilt and redemption.
--

Fast Day 242 January 22 2011 {When I Come Down}

Flock of Starlings

When I Come Down

When I come down, I land like youthful Saul,

who prophesied among the Sons of Prophets,

and did not then care for the price of cloth,

nor for the enticements of peace, and

still less the busy-ness of wars!

When I come down, I subterfuge hunting

eyes, and break Nets like a mighty ocean fish!

Leviathan balanced between the worlds:

returning and returning not…

not bound by air, unchained the deep!

When I come down, the opened snare of death

is set to dye earth’s green robe with my blood red;

I escape to the unmapped, roadless sky:

a flock of starlings’ swarming mind-

to dwell in freedom passerine!

--

Fast Day 241 January 15 2012 {Twelfth Night Wassail}

Children Wassailing

Twelfth Night Wassail

Saffron, Sage, Cloves, and Ginger;
Thistletop, Sweetmeats, Lentilpod,
and whitetopp'd fennel cakes;
within the kitchen Goldberry stands
and confects the wheaten, oaten, chickpea mix
with star of anise on sesame cakes.

Lavender and nectar draught
will make us merry in Winter:
a wassail of raisins and cinnamon and cloves-
the precious gifts from the Fragrant Isles;
candied violets in garlands strung!

Make festive this holy Twelfth Night,
mindful as we measure, so measured will it be.
Do not miser the honey-bread nor sesame biscuits!
Wanton the saffron-mingled cakes and walnuts;
sorb-apples wreathed in ivy crown:
her words the foam of nutmeg's dew!


--
notes

We approach Twelfth Night, the Twelfth Night of the Christmas season as observed by Orthodox, Coptic, and Armenian churches. This leads from Christmas to the Epiphany or Theophany, also called Little Christmas ( by my wife, at least).
Since the old Julian calendar was used by all Christendom until replaced in the West by the Gregorian, originally all the Christmas feasts were on the same days, and Twelfth Night under the old calendar would be around now. Wassail was a festive part of Twelfth Night:

The date of 17 January marks Old Twelfth Night, which is traditionally the date on which wassailing takes place.
Wassailing is an ancient tradition which sees people singing to trees in apple orchards in cider-producing regions of England to promote a good harvest for the coming

http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/somerset/hi/people_and_places/nature/newsid_9362000/9362050.stm

Twelfth Night for the Eastern Orthodox churches in the evening of January 18, and not January 17th as noted above; the quote is from the BBC and applies to Britain where, since the feast is no longer celebrated now due to the calendar change, a fixed date is used for the Wassail festivals.

The wassail sings to the apple trees to make them aware of the promised spring. Apples are ancient, and cider was probably a spirituous drink longer before any whiskeys or aqua vitae; which is why Johnny Appleseed was such a welcome fellow on the American frontier: the promise of harvest and the promise of fermented cider to warm the heart.

--

Fast Day 240 January 7 2011 {New Year's Street Eco}

New Year's Street Eco

It’s one week after

New Year’s laughter;

Spitting prayers: I once was paid,

but now I’m broke…

major depression with cognac and coke.

Colombian snort,

booze by the quart

that I stole from my parents’ Christmas:

I stole some money-

buy the drugs that killed my honey.

What day of the week?

I take a leak -

false zebra piss from once lion king;

I keep crashin’ late

in the day – some friggin’ ungulate!

I do not like this eco-system

where the dead-lights gather ante-mortem,

attempting to bring together and synthesize

reflections in dead men’s eyes…

and the Apocalypse was thirty years ago

when I began the ethnic cleansing of my soul,

and Death enzootic… snorts three lines…

of white and black extinction full!

False zebras on the plain

oppress my brain…

resident grazers of the street:

smoking, toking in the rain!

--

notes

Sorry if this is unpleasant; that's what came up;

written about some people I know.

ungulate   -   a hooved animal,  used because of the nature of untended finger and toe nails.

enzootic - (veterinary medicine)  afflicting animals in a certain area  literally  " in - living " 
Four syllables: en-zo-ah'-tic

Fast Day 239 December 27 2011 {Susan's Christmas Tree 2011}

Susan's Christmas Tree 2011

Fill in around the manger scene,
bringing forth the fragrant reeds;
carols singing,
and gifts bringing;
daughters of the music rule,
enchanted in festive weeds!

Susan plans her Christmas tree
to inflate Time’s trifling show
of past year’s
alarms and fears -
left behind on Twelfth Night
with all her stars aglow!

----
notes

weeds  - clothes, attire

I am getting ahead to keep time free for people coming to town and visiting and such. This should take us up to the week beginning with January 1, and a New Year's poem of some sort.
Happy Holidays.

Fast Day 238 December 20 2011 {Wildflower Girl}

Wildflower Girl

Daughter, oak and pine

of Christmas time!

Beyond the Jordan and within

the forests of Carmel;

handsome evergreen oleander girl;

upon the dried river beds

when gentle rain brings a flood

of gaudy tulip and blue lupin,

and fragrant winds blow to Bethlehem,

we embark and our confident bows

bite the foam of hollyhock!

---- 

notes

bows  - bow of a boat
bite the foam  -  the white water of a boat's bow cutting through waves has been often compared to a dog biting a bone, hence bite the foam indicates a boat's progress... usually upstream, hence the turbulence.

even though the rivers may be dry, a rain brings a bloom of flowers like a botanic flood... and we launch our boats upon this torrent and wend our way to Bethlehem... 
Our prayer for the future this Christmas:  although the waters may be gone, send us a river of grace.

pix: feminocracy.wordpress.com

Fast Day 237 December 17 2011 (Navidad en Belén / Christmas in Bethlehem}

 Near Manger Square in Bethlehem, December 2010

Navidad en Belén

Estos no son los androides
que ustedes buscan;
trucos mentales de los Jedi...
estos no son los pastores
que ustedes buscan:
estos no son los ángeles
que cantan en el cielo alto;
este no es el tesoro de oro,
este no es el incienso,
y este no la mirra ...
pero sí, es brillante y resplandeciente ...
como el amanecer incendiario
en los cedros abrasadores del Líbano;
y Belén,
la casa de pan duro,
la casa de carne roja,
espera un año más

--
"These are not the androids you seek"
Jedi mind tricks;
these are not the shepherds you seek,
these are not the angels that sing on high;
this is not the golden treasure,
this is not the frankincense,
and not the myrrh...
but it is as brilliant and shining
as sunrise burning
among the burning cedars of Lebanon;
and Bethlehem,
the house of coarse bread,
the house of red meat,
waits for yet another year.

--
notes

Bethlehem   - Hebrew: house of bread and in Arabic a possible translation could be house of meat

Nothing is what it seems,,, as if we had Jedi mind tricks being played on us constantly.

Fast Day 236 December 10 2011 {Mami Wata: How Government Began}

Mami Wata: How Government Began

Be careful where you step

by the river or by the sea:

Water,  she get no enemy.

Do not tread upon the old one.

Mami Wata was the ruler

of Sahara’s rosary:

lakes to the sunrise ceremony,

all the way from western ocean

Papa Legba of the crossroads

was land born from the sea;

fenced in, he believed himself not free:

riparian earth and sediments.

He gathered land-men far and wide

to go to parliament,

claim equality of descent,

to break the circle of Mami Wata.

They swore a suicide a month

until they got their way,

to reduce the mothers’ sway

and establish patriarchy.

Mami Wata ebbed and withdrew

to her palace lazuli

far away from the crazy

genocide of the dusty men.

Such is how we got government…

and Sahara desert…

leaving just aquifers covert…

and children soldiers bearing guns.

--

notes

Mami Wata  - goddess of the waters (West African, Haitian)

Sahara's rosary - the string of paleo-lakes and rivers of the once lush Sahara. Of course, we mean all such ancient waters, ocean and all, and referring to the "rosary" of the Sahara is using a part for the whole.

Legba      -    a male god of the crossroads (West African, Haitian)

The picture is supposed to be a depiction of a lwa. (pronounced "L-WA"), and perhaps Mami Wata, although it does not resemble the usual depictions of her.

SYNOPSIS
Mami Wata is goddess of waters. Here I picture her primeval spirit of the world. The land came later, and it is pictured as male, as seen by Papa Legba. To break the matriarchy of the goddess - and goddesses - of the waters, the oceans, the lakes, the rivers, Legba and like-minded men threatened to kill themselves until they were granted power.
The Mothers could not bear to watch their children kill themselves, so they withdrew from the places of mankind's power and authority, and the patriarchy and all it entails was set up.

(I am late getting this up. I have been back and forth between my parents' place; they had a cat crisis and we had trips to the vet.)

Fast Day 235 December 4 2011 {Vietnam And Other Wars}

Buddhist Monk Self-Immolation, Vietnam 1963

Vietnam And Other Wars

binge drinking is a multi-task

and is done by appointment:

on Saturday we party;

poisoned by too much booze,

overcome by a dark corner,

we followed a bouncing ping-pong

ball over the balcony

of the Amityville dormitory

or was it in Iraq

that a plate went through my head

and split my hemis into

double rockers,

and now I’m just a flathead grunt…

my hero was Connie Kalitta

from sulphurous Mount Clemens

but now I can’t even drive.

maybe opium from old Bactria

where we fight our war for

datura botany near Kandahar;

old men and children in the fields

ready to be harvested by

the fire of imprecise drones,

and wedding parties gone

to precocious funerals!

I came home and fell down

upon the beach and lay there

amidst unseen blood

from my hundred-eyed

Argus of wounds…

as transparent as an astragal

of hammered iron panels on

the plaguey windows of your houses!

--

I never wrote about Vietnam before today.

I don't think I'll explain anything.

Fast Day 234 November 24 2011 {Procne Is Among The Slaves}

Procne Is Among The Slaves
Dedicated to the US Congress
November 23, 2011


there was construction on Mack Avenue
so I got out of the car and walk for a mile
walk for a mile

in my high heels
my crane-like high heels

in my black, black high heels

(chorus: her black, black high heels)

bike guy on my left
food truck on my right
I got out of the car
walk for a mile
in my running shoes,
black Converse running shoes

(chorus: her black Converse running shoes)

Eastern Market Thanksgiving turkey
no hormone nonsense for my babies...
I took the turkey home,
and gave it to my Sis;
get new gilded shoes on
and going to go to Greektown

(chorus: People Mover Greektown)

Greektown casino takes my money,
and tries to take gold lamé virgin;
blue-heron-like
heels, and my life
to sit like Procne
among the slaves.

(chorus: Procne among the slaves)

I will shoe my feet in rain clouds,
I shall clothe myself in line;
like a phoenix.
we shall rise and fly
away, swallows and
nightingales...


scorn the ruling tyrant owls-
carrion eaters of the night;
we leave them behind,
we high-legged herons!

--
notes

Procne and Philomena were sisters and both became married to Tereus, king of Daulis, who symbolizes government.
He was depraved and eventually caused both sisters in their turns great grief. They escaped from his depraved tyranny and were turned into a swallow and a nightingale, while he was turned into an owl, or some stories say a hoopoe bird.
There are many variations on this story.

So was that tyrant Tereus' nasty lust

Changed into Upupa's foul-feeding dust

Lord Brooke; Declination of Monarchie.                   ( Upupa = hoopoe )

Hoopoe Bird

The poem is a symbolic story of the oppression of the poor and the powerless by bad government and its  supporters. It tells how the people will become free from their chains and fly away to freedom. It is about women and poverty.

line    =   linen

--

Fast Day 233 November 20 2011 {The Heidelberg Dolls}

The Heidelberg Dolls

I did not believe what I could see:
they stole the girls from therapy;
like organs smuggled from the poor,
sold today in some rich town;
they sit now in endless cinema,
watching future and the past…
chemo dolls
chemo dolls

The footprints left in memory
and recreated by Tyree,
leads through city and the forest,
their waves break upon the shore
of enigmatic and iconic
lost islands of Laz-y-Boy …
shadow feet
shadow feet

The vacuum cleaner armies stand
forever to unheard command
cleaning rooms through thwarted doors,
to answer flow’ring telephones;
Hastings Street pianos brood
as empty as cold fireplaces…
thirty-threes
in the trees

A ruin is profound regret
while found-art is our future bet:
gravity defying hobby
reaches out for the all the stars
beyond half-buried pink limos
of Chemo Ken and Barbie:
take shelter
take shelter

--
notes
The Heidelberg Project is a Street scale art project in Detroit, founded by Tyree Guyton. The photos is from the project. The art uses found objects… everything from a found Street down to the smallest objects.

chemo dolls – the abandoned dolls used in the work... the "chemo" refers to chemotherapy and I think the rest is obvious and somewhat painful.
vacuums – there is a empty lot with arrays of old vacuum cleaners
Laz-y-Boy - an adjustable chair in the midst of a path of shoes
thirty-threes - 33 1/3 records used in the art

I think everything becomes clear if one looks at photos of the project.

I like this poem, it is not the way I want it yet, and I feel it will take a long time.
I think I shall extend the rhyme and use the pattern of the last stanza:
a-a-b-c-d-b-e(rep)

Welcome Tänya

Welcome Tänya Priest as a friend.
I notice she is a runner. As I just wrote in a comment, I have been running for 45 years now. This year my ligaments and tendons have been a problem, and I hurt a knee ligament back in July, forcing me to lay-off running for 6 weeks. I returned cautiously and slowly. I still cannot do things like squat down comfortably, but I do not think I ever could. I never was able to sit of the floor very well.

I found that jogging or running for at least an hour was an important part life: it got one outside and right into Mother Nature, wet grass, hidden bumps, tumble, fall, roll, and bounce back up. You became part of the changing seasons, as you were running throughout the entire year, even in the winter: cruel winter wherein you ran eastwards to begin with the wind at your back, then sooner or later turning back and feeling the sadistic division wrought by winter wind, freezing the sweat on your body and forcing you to greater effort to warm yourself! The division of time into the Warm and the Unbearably Cold!

By being "within" the year, instead of merely living through the year and using a calendar as a way to mark off the passage of time, it changed my perspective on Nature and Creation forever.

--

Fast Day 232 November 12 2011 {Running Early)

Running Early

Early dark running on fall's last warm morning
I develop new shoes blisters
high and low on the plimsoll veins
of my feet... and it begins to rain...
each step agony,
I walk into gardens
of the houses along Detroit's rivers,
and untie my brand new shoes
sewn by children slaves in some far land
beyond the scope of hundred-eye TV...
remove my socks
and walk barefoot
along the sleek black rainy asphalt.

No longer do I practice safe-running habits,
the blood runs from my open sores
onto the rainy street, in payment for
the globalization of desire
and retribution
that it brings:
fearful of broken glass bottle shards,
gingerly stepping in chiaroscuro,
street lights glow brazen like Roman arms,
and my only apostles were the night,
those shoes,
and my wet socks!
As we tramp our way to Calvary!

--
notes
plimsoll  -   plimsoll markings on the sides of boats

--

Fast Day 231 November 4 2011 {Day of the Dead)

Day of the Dead

I heard the water laughing loud
at some off-color joke;
it was a witchy tinnitus
raging within my ears;
then I saw many, many moons
up in the dark night sky
like bright and silver coins, oblate...
fallen from a pocket;
many moons and laughing waters!
and I was very drunk.

I smelled the autumn leaves burning
smoke that was like frost,
medicine moons are in the sky!
like ice in rum and coke!
medicine weed is in my head:
suspend animation -
it takes paleontology
science to walk back home!
we wrestle dominion away...
stars at elbow and foot!

Ah, love! Ah, love! All passion spent!
who is it that does not
need a friend in cold November...
Dia de los Muertos!
Let the vibrant orange-sienna
of autumn leaves rise up;
call out to all ghosts and spirits
to come here for the dance!
Oh, Grandfather! Oh, Grandfather!
flower... moon... deer... divine!

--
pix: Claudia Salguero

Day of the Dead - dia de los muertos, november 2

dominion -  death shall have no dominion... etc. etc. etc.

ps.
I am really beginning to like this poem.
--

Fast Day 230 October 30 2011 {River Phoenix}

Mississippi River and Tributaries

River Phoenix

I googled "river" and they gave me River Phoenix, whom I had seen in "Mosquito Coast", a long time ago...
on the banks of a muddy water, flowing by stealth to the Caribbee, a sulphur sheen of unbroken surface...
so I stayed with River Phoenix, and I did not rerun my search.

River Phoenix is just like the memory of a river, or a tree, if you prefer;
since he has passed away, his image forms a substrate in a portion of our minds,
just like the gingko tree raped by a backhoe
by your living room window
when they came to widen the roads... to make things better...
nowadays they are always making things better...

The Rio Negro is one of many rios negros;
it is the river of the Mosquito Coast, itself an image and memory...
a river which miscegenates with the wide, broad Sea beyond the harbor
and the Jesuit churches cloistered around the Largo da Palacio
where incense rose like morning fog...in colder climes of time forgot.

--
I just sort of kept a beat going, changed it around at times, and wrote stuff out and tried to leave out the individual stanzas... sort of like reading an Ancient Greek inscription: all boustrophedon and run together with no punctuations.

Fast Day 229 October 22 2011 {Coleman Young's Funeral}

Coleman Young's Funeral
(On a Friend's Funeral)

The many colored uniforms
of autumn line the street,
as we zouaves ramble on,
bearing him to Elmwood;
a telephone directory
of names and tears of your family -
they'll meet you on the other side
as now you fly away!

They came running to tell me news -
I’d heard it on the vine –
radio novelties all day
of our cold jubilees.
On wings of song you will soon lie
amid Egyptian sarcophagi
between neo-classic temples…
marching round Jericho!

--
notes

Coleman Young  -  Mayor of Detroit,1974 to 1993

Elmwood - famous Detroit cemetery

zouave - soldiers, French and others, who wore colorful uniforms; three syllables pronounced zoo-AH-vee.
--

Welcome to Friends

There are four friends to welcome:

chubby..^_^.. aishiteru(n_n)..

Jan Preben Andersen

CoffeeTeaMandarin

alex.dejoy

and it's nice to see their avatars hanging out.

I have been in low gear for a while. This entire century has been a bummer! I hope that when we come to the end of the century no one can say the same thing. That's why friends are so good: smooth over the rough patches on the black-top of life.

Fast Day 228 October 15 2011 {Drums}

Drums


That drum is Haitian
of African descent,
comes from Danhomey
and Native American
is this drum here
between my legs I play.

It is three days since
I have tasted music;
it is three days gone
I have drunk water,
and I am drawn taut,
like this tight drum skin!

I see fireflies
under your hair
and your teeth as white
as freshly bit apples:
it's for you, it's for you
I play this here drum.

I sleep with you,
the evening star;
I wake with you,
the morning star:
in an old house
down by Wayne State U.

we were billboards,
wearing shades,
selling rum and smokes:
rather drive a rag top
and stand up and dance -
East Grand and Jefferson!

Belle Isle summer days
of war-like birds!
and island summer nights
of preening, dancing
and display... drumming
mischiefs in our dreams!

--
notes

Danhomey  -  a variant of Dahomey

rag top - convertible

East Grand and Jefferson  -  the entrance to the Belle Isle Bridge is there.
--

Fast Day 227 October 9 2011 {Detroit Buses We Can't See}

Detroit Buses We Can't See

Waiting for the morning bus
like yelling into an empty tin can

there is no food in there,
so it does no good to yell for it!

Cold and standing at the corner
of Woodward Ave. and Morning Blues,
waiting for the Detroit DOT
is a harsh charcoal reality.

We stand and wait like toy soldiers
a child forgot to put away…

or water bottles along the curb:
convex kaleidoscope decay!

There is a vacant lot nearby,
could we not roto-till the soil
and plant that fallow ground
and grow corn and okra while we wait?

The DPDub won’t interfere
and there’ll be no bus to, either!

But maybe the’re buses all along,
but only we can’t see them:

This gritty curb’s a cyclotron
that accelerates to light speed,
and our life is an experiment
for mankind’s betterment:

Neutrino buses of no mass,
like ghosts of physics in the night:

dancing on Woodward and John R,
tripping on Magic Street and MLK!

Can’t see those ghostly buses driving -
going through our bodies, going through
the Burger King, and it’s only by
hamburger scatter we know at all…

a diesel heart is beating blood
for casino arteries,

a diesel lung is breathing soot:
harsh ebony reality.

--
notes

convex kaleidoscope =  the rounded bottles reflect light like a k-scope.

the're   =    "there are"  pronounced "there"

DPDub = DPW Department of Public Works, “Dub” is short for “Double U”

this needs a lot of work yet.

hamburger scatter - in particle physics, some elementary particles are only inferred by the "scatter" they cause on other particles.
--

Fast Day 226 September 30 2011 {Pumpkins at Rapture Time}

Pumpkins at Rapture Time


climbing through the fields,
climbing through the glean,
looking for a pumpkin
with a green handle
to get for Halloween…

In the viney web
of jack o’lantern raw,
I bent to pick a pumpkin
as the Rapture winnow
harvested us all…

heavenly that combine,
and the call divine,
to disk the earth infected:
to rotate all the crops
and pick us from the vine!

As I bent to gather
a pumpkin from its patch
the Rapture passed on by me,
it swung down low and straight
but did not stoop to snatch.

All this for jack o’lanterns,
all this for Halloween,
self-righteousness has fled the earth
and it is more peaceful now
than we have ever seen!

--
notes

Based on Ruth's story of how the Rapture missed her while she was picking pumpkins.
--