Tuesday, October 27, 2015

October 27



  1. Edges
    Building edges field
    Civilization edges nature
    Safe cubby edges merge
    Where is my place?

    9to5 edges laid off
    Hierarchy edges dream
    Tech speed edges hermit speed
    Limelight edges dark
    Shadow everywhere.

    No people visible
    Landmines kill most life
    Cartwheel the tightrope
    Angles will guide.

    1. That's a really interesting poem. Would you send that to me?

  2. Flight over the pass

    I recall
    a memory
    of mine
    where the
    quilted landscape
    was tranquil with
    greens and browns
    as I flew in the back
    seat of my dad's Cessna
    The people were very ant like
    as I wondered what they were
    doing in the daily routines of
    their lives, with laundry, walking
    as we flew over Tehachapi and
    through the pass along to Bakersfield
    My bladder was about to explode and
    we had to cut the flight short going
    back to the airport as I recall the
    landscape with golden hills and it
    reminds me of when I was in the
    back seat of my dad's Lincoln
    Continental as we were driving
    to Modesto with the dairy farms
    and the rows of plants for miles
    and miles
    I would watch the rows move past
    in a clockwork fashion before my
    eyes and imagine the rows looking
    like long walking legs clicking by in
    a stilt like way
    moving as the car accelerated
    past the fields of rows and the
    mounds of dirt moving fast
    running by keeping up with
    the car

    1. Love this man! You really capture the feeling of this.

  3. The Stand-off

    The clutter is pushed up against wide open spaces
    long shadows from captivity loom
    fortresses of progress stand like guards at the gate
    blocking the entrance of the peasant grass

    The neutral sea stands by, a witness to the stand-off
    its rhythmic waves keeping the peace
    reminding them both with hypnotic sounds
    that it could easily wash them away

  4. City Scape I,
    Diebenkorn 1963,
    Cooper 2013: A Continuous Redistribution
    of Hard-To-Replace Materials
    and the Stratification of Land-Masses
    into Territories of Exploitation
    for Profit, Scuffling Sustainable Growth
    and all Future Livability in this California
    We Claim to Love

    Wanted: Cheap
    track homes that annex the field to
    glut the red wine for as little as possible in return as we sit
    in the splinter of the wild—concrete
    shoe’d among the blooded
    and water-starved
    grapevines. Around
    the corner—the scab-white plank
    wood and rebar scaffolding
    belt the 7-11 and the Payday
    Advance—throw back the light
    from the gum saturated walkway so that
    workman can rebrand and repaint the building;
    over-watch provided by the Fast-Evict-Law-Group
    which sits behind red-rod-iron and concertina
    wire covered fences protecting a herd of stray
    unpaid in-pounds. Glut-skin
    algaes the mute
    storm channel, makes its advances, connecting Baldy to the LA basin like
    a low slung freeway of stagnate
    traffic-scum. The deepest place our anti-freeze pools is
    in our ground water. From there
    the Jimson Weed stalks from its fault-splinter
    bursting the concrete into fracture
    nebulas. It is no secret
    that shadow lights up
    the raised places un-pooled around our depressions.

    1. I love the cerebral-ness of your poems here!