all saints day in someone else's town
east of my town, west
I went to see the river
pinned between two blues
skies blown blue behind
river azure forward
skim her -
no,
go
deeper
I am given to ponder
dredger barge arm dunker
each plunk
never comes up empty handed
and me
w/a can of pear nectar,
gold tincture
of the sun in my pea coat
I work the opening
and then there, inside me
the son of the sun
rising within me
through my eyes
off the river
to the skies
I rub my hands on the sculptures
round brown
bronzed and wound
w/work? of course
w/meaning?
I will be a purple flanneled person tonight
for I have seen
three pennies on these streets
the first two, tails up and they were left
a donate!
but the third, heads -
head on the street
how could
I
let this
happen?
I am given to ponder
brown chases blue
catches brown
chasing blue
on this day:
wet river
dry skies
soft wind
wet eyes
chicago, illinois
last night
I
made a shape w/my mouth
and what dropped out?
a name of one
born
in the town of this stage
also,
my first stage
before the burden of age
anyways -
the cipher evoked
a power stroke
and kept keel
under instead of
outer so
I
could work the deck
w/crazy semaphore on
my little machine
has me
lit
lighthouse lit
foghorn fit
and the look
on those kids'
faces
making sentences
from my one word
how could they fathom
I had dreamt a whole tome
from those
nine
special
letters?
la grande, oregon
fingers
in a glove
floating on the snow
fallen
from and
found in
skies above
where eyes must throw
their basket holes
up and
catch them,
flakes
of cakes
on picnic table plates
crunched
by the bunch
of a word hand form
lost
their tiny unseen beauty
reduced simple
multiple
dimples
from where I'd be
minus me
yes,
that soft
motion
broke and
woke in
side
a winter's love
thawed
unfrozen
calais to dover
before we leave
feel the motor
once more
heave from the dock
the wind
sock full then
empty hollow
belly puffed
and stuffed
w/the moment's intent
tensed
then out
it
goes
through the holes, exhales
the
wind
- we pull
away
the ferry
carries us under a broken gray
clouds crumbling,
showing such a blue
others tumbling
into a white disc solar
sunshine filter rip, tear!
how the lantern sure
BLARES
eye bowls
all full
white broth, each mindful
savors the taste
well
between knowing and feeling
no - forget knowing
away w/the wind
blowing
and shifting waves
dropping and
catching
our huge solid hollow
sailing across her green ocean eyes
there, land
now a white-cliff band
to hang thoughts on, yet -
I want to forget
and prefer to bob
and breathe this
way:
"fill my lung
w/the songs
we sung!"
another of them burp-days
one more trip around the sun
another of them burp-days
find me
at fortythree
w/the most puzzled look on my face
was it inertia
that yanked me up
from younger
to middler
or an afterthought
cuz
I might of thought
I was tireder
but actually
am not
so I will pedal
for 2001
love
popped from me
this night
I worked
as a firecracker
light-tracker
detector-projector
and rushed out the top
and down the falls
what a shower
I was bathed
in its midst
(mist?)
wow, some kiss!
our
happy new
year's
here
the sum of the son
dreaming of the bath,
in the bath
water blanket wrapped
buoyant bubbles
soft salts
see the sea
vault and loft
your name over and over
over and under
drunk w/it
swimming in it
tumblin'
bubblin'
soak
and float
rest your mind, watt
pray for konk
let the lights dance on your canvas wall,
let them paint for you
portraits of you
confused you
w/what's true
who?
you
petals, sopped and soaking
flowers
ours
a wonder that's
hours
long and
soft and
thick
fleshy petal butter pats
mouth melted
cool to warm to
syrup
ruby cherub
cheeked
satin sheeted
folds
and creases
reached
and felt
but not w/eyes
rather
w/sighs
hands on thighs
a gardener's prize -
a nectar nurtured cistern
dancing flurry kachina jury
thumps
from the shelf's top
tiny
padded
thumps
jumps first
my nerves' verse
and leaps
from my mouth out -
who hears them
and has the nerve
to
find the rhythm to put steps to
- tiny men
heads tucked in
every moment a halloween
and d-d-dance
in the head trance, chants
chants
how many have they heard from you, watt
how many rants?
busy w/their steps
and in
their
dreams:
not trapped
in the
museum
but
meant to d-d-dance
dance
on a fertile farm
soft, warm
on their moccasined
underneath
beneath
them
showin' him show
him
a golden pear
and his eyes fixed
fuzzy vision but
captivated
kachina witnesses
hypnotists
lateral intimists
tungwup ta-amu:
the whipper's uncle -
guard dancer
for
the
bean dancer
both feet
planted
but then those
standing on half their toes -
other foot up
knee bent
ecstatic sent
in my real life to the world costume head
dances
of
mudheads,
sun face
and chasing star
structure?
yeah - some, sure
p i
v o
t i n g
on the
moment
- hold it
do they pine
for signs
or are they
their own
wholeness?
follow the curve
pelican wings to carry
you
specialness
o'er the arc
of a curved world's
promises
sun-warmed wings
loft your beautiful dreams
into focus
tiny breaths
whisper where
the love is
on completion of watt's 44th tour around the sun
a man of minutes now
half my life,
such boom-sweeper's sights
being taught days
pour
into years -
fortyfour
thank god I can fill 'em
w/pluckin' and pedalin'
last friday in january
the first light brings
a hankerin'
for pedalin' -
pedal me
to the sea
to the sea w/me then
dismount
and then mount
some seaside rocks
perched right close
enough
to
feel the kiss
of salt-spray mist
your eyes drawing
brain-sketches,
colored-in
w/what your nose catches
lucky watt,
how dare you dream
of a luckier me?
be grateful, watt
for what you
got
god,
what you would've missed,
such eye-gifts
- there for you, reclined
santa catalina
her gentle v
between her
twin highness
engulfs you in
a sense-bathin',
clean-shaven,
scent-shaken
quiver -
mister,
you've witnessed
fine
marriages bind
the singular
w/the
genuine
look up -
father sun
hug your pelican son
he loves you dear
way up high
deep inside
your lover sky
now
burst your thurst
and
sing
your sigh
happy hellovatimes's day
finds me
recently
just put through the wringer
of forced-frozen fingers
dowel-like
stalactites
still
simple components
compared w/that mess
of clockwork thoughts
fixed
in a pane of glass
a continent thick.
windowman,
tonight
you have a hellovatime's date
w/that little bass, you lucky fuck
wish me luck
workin' it
w/those same fingers -
they'll always
be
those same fingers?
sunshinedman
from sunsoak land,
fancy that notion:
a fixed gaze
could melt somehow
an icy glaze
into hugs
of warm-current
ocean
the swelter I felt there
I
labored
over and debated
voicing
every
yearning and
outburst in my daily chimping,
urging my most
econo
language
instead of the
zeal
angled spiel
but then thought, "fuck it"
eventually evolving
to
hear it
shoveled into a coal train's load
of dream fuel
brain spooled
so tight
it sprung - ho!
...popped!
w/the thought
hmm...
such a very serious look:
your eyes narrowed
brows furrowed
hands gestured
as to measure
significance
and accent
just what
is to be
meant
oh
little one,
how tall really
your stature naturally
will always tower over
m
e
so
let
that
light
from this
packed tight
flamed bright
mind shine through goofball
eyeball lantern lenses lighting
tender
script rendered
from your tender
living
hand
and
fit
and
fashioned
just, just, just
so...
may that crazy fire's light
help you
see you,
help you
be you
for john entwistle (1944-2002)
dearly will miss your thunderfingers
rest easy, ox
always part of you
in the bassist part of me
on that ed sullivan show
when you did "my generation" right
w/that bass solo
the cameraman
focused on townshend
stupid fuck
(the cameraman, not pete)
wow how he wowed me
much
taught me
much
don't be afraid, watt
charge hard
let your bass
sing
your young man blues
for john coltrane on what would've
been his seventysixth birthday
that part of
us
stowed
- put away,
either learned
or showed
or even guessed at -
who could know?
that rather than tedious,
brittle and yes,
stressed -
came
brave
broad
breath
billowing
surge and roll
and swell and bulge
that sail-like part,
freed from the
hold
thoughts for valentines day 2003
glops of sun
drops in tons
from a tub up
high,
a clear-see-through-tub
full of sun
bathin'
in shavin's
floatin'
on shorn lather-soaked
islands - I've been
to other angles
since then
again
I spin
and maybe
that baby's
toy of a top
can match
that joy of a drop,
cord-flung
and self-spun
- stop
trade flannel
for sackcloth and
learn to stare
there?
- no
where?
nowhere
lesson, I listen
listen here
dear, why
waste words on him?
better
just to glance at him
sunny hurling
funny swirling
twirling
dancing
man
in your town w/out you
sure,
I got my
brain-made-a-broiler
from eyebuckets of
sun bounced
off the river -
the east one
not
the west
w/you in between,
all edges afire
but
missing
me
missing
those
steps that throw
invisible glows
braile-reading fingers
touch these sidewalks,
spirit seeking
force-field feelings
then
sitting on your shore,
your town behind me
my town beyond
that orange setting
chock-full-of-thinking
sun.
steamed scrod
(one of all those 's' fishes)
in my mouth
summon sentiments
so dear
sediments,
layered years
dissolved now
all salty,
creviced
w/tears
back in our land
hello
fellow-you-know-what...
well, whoa!
(fellow?!)
what would I
know
but
mystery
in those
deep down
windows of
spirit skylight
zenith
between us
meaningless
mentions
of motions
which big time
can
keep
this rattle-rant
still
I
so
am
that
man
and you
are that...
from other parts
of the land -
other worlds
even,
living a life
still
I'd
like to think it
our land
more of a current state of mind than a memory
I tried
explaining her
those days
but ended up
tripping up
on words
too little to
hold
all that intense shit
too bound up
to be thrown up
like that
so...
I talked instead 'bout
how
you could not be scared
w/d. boon
on stage w/you
(or you w/him)
cuz he was
unbridled,
unfettered,
unafraid to give it his
all
in that grand canyon
we all know
as the moment -
same thing
if he was in the
crowd, next to you...
same thing
was the crowd
and the stage
bye bye, arena rock -
our minds:
blown.
that was those days
for us
so
I wrote her
words
I wrote
in those days, trying
to relate those very days
'pert-near
in them days,
I wrote:
"we learned punk rock in hollywood,
drove up from pedro.
we were fucking corn-dogs"
hankerin' to be econo
and keeping things simple,
I was trying to learn
those hardcore kids then
like trying to learn folks now...
so hard
to find words to
paint the
rush and the
roar,
the fucking bursting forth!
raymond's gift:
hearing coltrane's
horn
maji yabai
transistors
resist her
transfigured
transfer
faster than
them
those
these
us
ours
we
thermistor
resist her
resistor fixer
sitting here to
ponder
those crescent
sideways
muslim moons
like on the flags
but yet NOT the flags
no, deeper
than any flag
deepness down
towards the source of
your window's
light
sideway crescents windows bright
eyes
from me
truly
only
sighs
words can surely
put it poorly
so I will
sigh
from inside
while outside
they tell me
they wanna ride the big train...
well then, get on board w/coltrane
cuz this here brain
is insane - every word
a mayday
meant to say
stay away
except maybe to weave
a flannel sleeve
w/threads of art
and make believe
maybe transcend
a brutal reality
I guess it was time
for me to find
you
and dance
w/your mind
maji yabai
the morning I woke up w/cat eyes
it was the crack of dawn
(of course)
and rubbing the konk out my eyes
was trippy,
felt different
but then I believe I had
dreamed different
a move to the mirror,
the silver-backed show-you-clearer
('pert-near never much my endeavor)
and what did it show me
but eyes of a cat now on me
of course,
sideways crescents
and not konk-cramped-too-lazy-to-open-them-wide
windows I'm using
to let light fall in
to
hmm... then
where is my tail?
even a girl cat
has a tail or
had one at one
time
then I figured
...where
are my claws
not to let sharpness
dig deeply
but
to drag lightly,
ever so barely
w/pawpads mostly
patter-pounds
tapped down
wound around
ever so slightly
detetcted barely
senses aware
then awaken hugely
but nope
and these whiskers
scruff black stubble
destined only to layer
yet further more distance
to cover
in order
to cipher
some feel of the senses -
make sense
of what's senseless
disguised to the eyes
yet helpless
to feelers, antennas, detectors
yet those have I not
- beard and hairy lip's all I got
'til this razor
flays them fainter
and smoother
comes my sun-soaker
collector...
hide,
where is my coat?
why bareness,
barely
a cover
of fur
to be shiny
and licked on...
yes, licked on
w/a tongue full of roughness
and not what I find
which is still what I feel:
inside my word hole,
a finger of softness
how will I lap
how will I groom
where is that sandpaper
everything tool?
finally
I
try and try
to yank real deep,
yank and yank
for a purr not fake
but innate
motor kitty straight
up and shaped
from so far down
a most real
sound,
vibe...
then
I realize:
THEY'RE ONLY EYES
only if
I had no mirror to show me
intoxicate my eyes
and hold me
in their very own
gaze of them gazing
forever
reflecting
and reflect
on the fathomless
collecting
of infinite connecting
seeing through
nothing but
trance-induced
staring
if only
the music
in the words
were not lost and
not muddled w/thinking
but felt
w/each blinking
then eyes closed and
each breath
like a twinkling,
a star in some imagined sky...
if only
your words
summer
kissed by
a touch
of the starlight
roaring
in your eyes
I
lost myself,
only falling
very fast w/out
ending ever
your aura mane
opening for me the
universe
up to my neck in up to the moment
all the countless bits
of tininess
that make
up a
big wind
tore my sail,
upended and rolled me
on my
beam
I
found myself floundered
manless
mindless
valveless
dissolved I
resolved
I'd right that keel
(vain man)
strained and
still floundered
the sea and me
ceased to be
separate
en
ti
ties
me, I
made piss-bottles of
myself
my
mouth
my
eyes
kidney-filter the sun
run body temperature gold
from silver sickled moon...
KA-BOOM!!!
through and through a
slew of
punctures
sunk sure
but who would've thunk
where?
then
evaporated
radiated forever from there
so
is it just the meanings
that go
missing?
well,
in this case thank
god for
fission,
huh?
on my fiftieth birthday
funny
line in the sand
I
tripped over and
fell
gravity decidin' where
my
face met the surf
all wet
w/fifty
some explaining
(embed here a
part-of-a-poem
kind-of-remembered
passion)
boys
being like
girls
being like
boys
a
tree branch
shuddered by
a word wind so
bundled w/intent
meant
to be most
earnest but
at best
arms full of
confusion
delusion
in
true
shun
the bark pattern
this tree's bark pattern
captivates
me -
holds my moments
just so...
histerious
a hieronymus
history/mystery
seriousness
that laughs anti-mockery not
at me
cuz
it's
its
know
healthy eyes
you
did not recognize
me
being pushed out this
way
outfitted such
such
was my
intention, to be
born
this way
w/healthy eyes
I
will not be heard as much as
felt
(my hope) by
healthy eyes
both sides, inside and
outside
a universe
above our heads
w/nothing seen
(to wonder, that)
but felt by
healthy eyes
no fear
or envy
nor meanness imagined
here
imagine that -
here
w/whisps
of trips
and sips
of lips
surfacing
here
felt by
healthy eyes
feelings heard
words
felt
and wondered about
out
loud and most now
alone
together
that
way
these clothes how
they make me seem
now
that I've got them on
for you
to ponder
w/healthy eyes
the lighthouse keeper
shipwrecked now
on a raft
on my belly
my arm leaning over the side
w/my hand in the sea
soaking deep cuts carved by rope
I was clinging to
marooned like
some kind of driftwood
I think of the lighthouse keeper
I try to think of one thing
but it always turns out to be two
the lighthouse
the lighthouse keeper
one inside the other
beacon slowly turning round
round stairs inside
up and down
round and round
up and down
in my mind
I even hear the foghorn
moan
on my back now
thundercloud over me
it bursts
filling my open mouth
surprise
I will not die
of thirst
this day