FOR DON ROTHSCHILD, WHO DIED ON DECEMBER 7, 2009

You DIED, Don, on your day of death,
And you had assembled a rascally bunch
To mark your passing.
And the music was finally
Coming together
You said.
And your friend back East,
Where you did not want to go,
Had died
You said.
And you really didn't make any money
On this job
You said,
When you fixed my neighbor's lamp, helpfully.
But Stephanie's dryer still works fine
And no animals were harmed
In the making of this movie
But you.
You died, Don, on your day of death.
And Davey J. said you had added
20 years, when you were still non-chalantly with us.
And Jesse added a wiggle to her gait
As if to shake her worry loose.
And Tania, according to my schizophrenic visions
And my hypnogogic states,
Sharp-shootress-ed your soul,
Beyond any shadow of a doubt,
Right up to the Heav'ns,
With her love.
And Dawn hung out all day
and steered us all to safety.
And Michael K. ran the voodoo down
On a rainbow riding rock-a-lanche,
Until his eyes were puffy.
And Lizzy, with heart breaking, got her year, and had her natal birthday.
And Cheryl, I only saw later
On the up and up, at the first Log Cabin without you.
And we wouldn't have minded
If it was a false alarm
And you were really gunning down the Federalee's
In an old Western.
I would have been okay with that.
Something romantic,
Something more dashing,
But you died, Don, on your day of Death
And if anything ever felt small
Or insignificant
It wasn't this.
And the tragic hilarious fool
Who'd been around the block a heap
Yet who was kind without knowing it loudly
Went to meet his Creator
And I know how to remain shy and clumsy
When I die, now,
Thinking that no one will bother
With it.
You died, Don, on the day of your death,
And without being able to say
All the ways, exactly how,
It will just NOT be the same.

(SCA/December 8, 2009)

TRAFFIC LIGHT BLUE

I wave. I wave a lot.
I wave so much, when driving
They say I will be killed in Oakland
If I were driving through
To go to Pick and Pull.
I wave so much
My road-doggies laugh at me
when riding along
with me, or me with them.
I wave so much
The other drivers don't know
Whether to stay
Or go, yield, or flow.
I wave.

When I was a boy,
There was a man on the corner,
That waved at all the drivers
Driving by his house
In Berkeley.
He waved from his yard
And my Mom and I would
Wave back, and smile back,
And it seemed he would
Help make peace in the world.
Maybe help a lot.

The knights, I'm told,
Greeted each other with a wave
So the other would know
A sword was not being drawn.

I wave a lot, and nod, and smile, and bow.
But I do not live in the East Bay.
I live in Novato.
I think I may be the only one
In Novato
Trying to help make peace in the world.
I wave so much. I wave a lot. I wave.

(SCA/October 2009)

YUMMY KISS!

Hmmm, really yummy with you...
Hmmm, we cracked the cosmic egg, okay...
Hmmm, both our funny insides felt astray...
Hmmm, your peepers' starlight, sweetly bright...
Hmmm, really yummy with you...Shannon...
Hmmm, you say things I already think...
Hmmm, tears come out at my pluckity-plink...
Hmmm, does everyone stare the way I do?
Hey, really very yummy with you...
Hmmm, actually really pretty yummy with you...
Yeah, and, still not master of my own command...
Yeah, kiss me adieu and I sink in the sand...
Yeah, and, from a perspective think back I'm dorky...
Hmmm, but I did not care about forcing my forte...
Hmmm, actually yummy with you...
Hmmm, and remind me of myself, you do
Yeah, and, even with your sad grit enthusiasm
You're like Sister Knieval shootin' 'cross the chasm
Hmmm, did you know you are still my hero...
Even if you don't want zero...
And in my book of days, there'll read
A Shannon girl, in time of need...
Gave this boy some fever's break
When thirst had seemed something better left alone...
Hmmm, you're yummy...
Hmmm, I'm thinkin' actually quite yummy, Roo.
Yeah, and, I would still like to be with you.

(SCA/ January 14, 2007)

FOR DAISY, THE HUMAN WOMAN

Starlight girl, diamond woman,
Brave of face, bright in person
And my better in strength of arm
And my road puppy through all alarm.
As you give your heart and warmth
I am attracted, I hope for more
My thirst is heightened, my breast it glows
Yet still I am in fear to disclose
And wish to wait 'til ache compounds
Beyond the point when you'd resound
That I am not the warrior and bro' for thee.
I'd fancy, rather, to have you lock-stepping to my drum
Its all-encompassing pandemonium
Rhythms shaking, no mistaking,
Groove of grooves, with us creating
A bond so close the hearts are breaking
Pain and pleasure perfection making
Flows each breath, the earth is quaking
I'll go bonkers in the baking, Boojshi!
But I'm still just hanging out, free for the taking.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, Sugar! Your friend, Scotty

SCA ~FEB 16, 2006

DIZZY, I'M CHASING MY TRUTH

Dizzy, I'm chasing a place to sit down
Whack-job, as I'm known around town
I'm hoping, my lies will not leak to your mind
I'm grateful, I got past you just this one more time
I'm walking, where angels will always fear to tread
These angels, warning, warning, you'd be better off dead
Then I get busted, by the White Light Truth confrontation
Assailed, by my own deception asphyxiation
Once again I stop all the useless banter
Once again I center on the things that matter
My breath, my life, my truth.
Burden resting, time is testing, love is nesting
In my heart, in my heart, in my heart.

(SCA/circa 2005)

MAINTENANT

Crispy cold lettuce iced.
Broken bacon bits and spice...
Add some tortilla chips broken,
And an egg you thought was rotten.

Clamp a lamp down on your omelet.
Place the ashtray with the savant.
Never let go of your honeycomb hair.
Reverse the dismal drear in the air.

Upside down and over and through,
There goes a little idea for you.
Makes a chocolate cake so chic,
Bet you'd be making 10 a week!

Called up the George Wash tapeworm,
Told him the Spirit of '76 had returned.
Spent a night in the belly of a salmon.
Won't you take my Blue Diamond Almonds?!

Holy sightings in the telepathic messages,
Create the mind space to generate images.
Lash the mast, dream starlight's dim.
Infect the ocean where starfish swim.

Lazy cacophony and battering ram nose...
Would you be open to me changing my clothes?
All has escaped my original salad.
Take me back to where we started.

SCA ~ 2005

POEM FOR A LITTLE DRUMMER BIRD I EUTHANIZED IN SF

Breakin' neck of a Whip-poor-will
Excuse my flying beyond this still
Smiling down from sky on high
Don't you know it made me cry.

Little pigeon who smiles down
Breathe your breath without a sound
Could be laughter, could be rage
Romper room pinewood derby mess kit training outfit with a panty hose rope.

I have known the deeper peace
When you had become the grease
And I will say the motion spoken
Was only there to be uprooted.

Would you waste the time you had
To go where dirty dreams get sad
And could there be an upward spiral
That collapses the muzzle of roses.

I have heard it said that you
Were very carefully unglued
But the tension mounting is only there
To wake the Dead in Boston.

Itch & Scratch were my only sons
And one was not beside the other
What do you say to the bell that jingles
With the light of day?

SCA/~2005

DOLPHIN DREAM

Prince of Light and Water,
On the blue-paper moon
What light from yonder window?
A pane of blue glass, gentle grin,
Bottlenose behind me, seven, eight,
And scattered flowers, scattered guns,
Thrown stones, fever blisters, and blood, blooming ice castles.

AND GOD HAS TURNED AWAY

I hope she sees Mephistopholes
Who is coming from up my way, by early March, or late in May.
I watched you sneeze and sip teas with Mephistopholes,
And "Bless You!" did I say.
And on the seventh day was Satan's reign, and God has turned away.

SUSAN'S 50TH BIRTHDAY

Half a century
in this penitentiary
of life in the flesh
and you're still fresh!
Not a chip on YOUR shoulder
even if you ARE a bit bolder,
and no vacant look to your eye,
except that good ole' Rocky Mountain High,
and the same tough fabric
to your cover-alls!

Oh, what a sentence
and you fill it with a vengeance!
You're always a mate,
on the bunk, high or low.
To the judge, I'll implore
that you get 50 more,
and I'll watch o'er your back
'til they come with the gas.

But all kidding aside,
Your heart is deep, your wisdom is wide.
May the rest of your days
be as blessed as the best,
and the nights be as warm as the sun.

(NOVEMBER 1998/SCA)

A THANKSGIVING POEM

Your candle-lit saucy lips
and your turkey-leg grin,
are warm-colored in this Autumn,
blessing blessing!
I sense the gravy,
my thoughts are in a mash.
Stuffing my feelings,
I drink your whine.

Heed the past, you say,
but remain mindful of the future,
and ladle in the moments, cherishingly,
because the soup of your life
will always, eventually,
expose the bottom of the bowl.

GOT TO CLEANSE THOSE LITTLE CHAKRAS

Saw the mice looking twice as nice
as the day they moved away.
Hats, gloves, and stockings,
after backrubs and unblockings...
of their micey little chakras.
Got to cleanse those little chakras

What pathetic scenes had we,
those three girl-mice and me.
We tensely rode the escalator,
and hid behind the 'frigerator.

With our faces shaken and disturbed,
We hopelessly yelled at the absurd.
We had to cleanse those little chakras!
Had to cleanse those little chakras!

So incredibly obscured were our centers!
How far removed we were from being tender!
And how sketchy was our resolution...
How ambivalent was our conclusion...
to unblock our little chakras.
We had to cleanse our little chakras!

Cleanse these micey little chakras.
Got to cleanse these little chakras.
Got to cleanse these little chakras.
Got to cleanse one's little chakras.

BY THE LIGHT OF THE TOOTH FAIRY

You lifted this rock for grubs and scorpions,
the desert melting on us, our minds folding like fans.
Catch sight of our swampy choked love, so real!
And the muck below, holding God knows what, eh?
God's casserole, eh?
It's thick like too much chocolate powder in one's milk,
which isn't ALL bad,
and pops out dry when you wait, tipping glass.

So, I left you at your house, then,
where we'd flown our peace dove flags,
and made our salutes and cheers,
and signed our little treaties.

And you sprint inside a beer bottle,
while I can't help clocking your time.
I like how we go skipping across broken records,
one angel dangling from another.

LOVE POEM FOR MARY JANE C.

When the dust is scattered... around the planets,
By a master artist... infinitely talented,
And the temperature... holds everything so tightly,
That the brightest stars aflame... cannot awaken me,
And the vastness forgets to echo back to itself... because it is so grand,
Then I'll still be with you... with nothing to do.

TO PSYCH TECH K. KASLOWSKI

Laughing at your four-leaf clover skyscraper
With my bubble gum balls in storage
All the while candles leaping elsewhere
I know by God they were.

Some sugar powdered French toast
And tangy guava colorings, sky.

Run back this way some, sister,
Stick-shifter, and rum.
A piece of wax dotting brass
Like electronic blood on angels.

 SCA~JAN 14, 1998

WINGS

Wings that rustle like a bristlecone pine
Take me away
Take me away.

Wings that soar as the wind
Yet open like a flower
Take me away.

Wistfully and gracefully, like the flow of running water
Come to me and hear me say
Take me away, take me away, take me away.

(MAY 2, 1980/SCA)

FOR THE BIG KITCHEN "SCRAPBOOK"

From the desk of:
Scott Christopher Aiken, who is presently located in Marin County, SF Bay Area, Nor Cal, USA, Earth, BUT only 523.26 miles from the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE, a.k.a. The Big Kitchen, door-to-door, according to a popular online MAP application. That is SUPER-convenient for me, as Lord knows, I’ve been known to journey to the place!

I call myself Judy’s cousin, but that relation is, technically, brought about by marriage. Our “cousin-kinship” is rendered by virtue of Judy’s former marriage to a gentleman whose maternal uncle (my stepfather) was formerly married to my mother, a detail which should help explain the fudge room sufficient to allow for Judy and I to be cousins when she is merely turning 29 and I have already reached 40 this last Friday, June 12th, 2009! *Wink-wink Having said that, it should also follow well enough that as a jobless young man in 1989 (as well as a Sonoma State University - Music Major Drop-Out, although equipped with some cooking experience albeit) I was generously accommodated by The Beauty herself, as a Big Kitchen employee, for nearly a year. I turned 21 @ The Big Kitchen, during that year of employment, so, my BK story basically revolves around my GROWING UP!

When Judy e-mailed me the information the other day about this virtual SCRAPBOOK, and invited me to join the BK mailing list, of course I was eager to accept. As I sit and craft my note to you now, I honor the opportunity to share my Big Kitchen story almost as manna (defined as “divinely provided sustenance” ) because I came to find myself a bit snarled in a wilderness of sorts just mere moons subsequent to my bidding adieu, July 1990, to the adventure I’d had while a “cook” at The Big Kitchen. With my radio “broken,” and scant much, at points, beyond inborn grit to light my way, I have wended along within a veritable “psychiatric” wilderness which has been just treacherous and expansive enough, enchanted though it may always remain, that such divinely provided sustenance is precious to he who has found need to tighten his belt against hunger of the heart, so to speak, while pursuing liberty from delusion of the mind. My first “5150” arrest occurred on October 21, 1990.

If you did not realize it, let me explain that a “Fifty-one-fifty” is a shortcut term utilized by all law enforcement in California originating from California Code: California Welfare and Institutions Code: Section 5150-5157, the initial section of which designates that any individual who is believed to satisfy one or more of three specific criteria be arrested and held for mandatory psychiatric observation for 72-hours. The three criteria which regulate that you be hand-cuffed and transported to an evaluation facility designated by the County and approved by the State Department of Mental Health, if you meet one or more of them, are, that you be: 1) a danger to others, 2) a danger to yourself, and/or 3) gravely disabled (which means that you're deemed unfit to take care of yourself properly, re: food, clothing, shelter.) Subsequently, in my case, and apparently quite frequently, if the psychiatric evaluation “technicians” (psych-techs) find that the individual can probably USE it, they can “certify” involuntary detention for up to 14-days, which is known as a “Fifty-two-fifty,” (5250), to allow for intensive treatment of the mental disorder.

[TO BE CONTINUED...]

June 19, 2009
One week since the last entry having passed, I feel I cannot live up to completing what I've introduced, with any linearity and congruency in tone. Suffice it to say, during that year of employment at the BK, and being at that age at which I was, so poised to fall in love, it should follow that I fell head-over-heels *ga-gah! in an unrequited love, to a fellow cook, a female cutie, and grieved sorrowfully for a life-changing-duration, subsequent to her relayed expression of lacking interest in maintaining contact with me, upon her departure from her BK post. I eventually found some peace, although the pitch of my feelings diminished at an almost imperceptible rate. The relief came to my wounded heart more slowly than Sun descending into the Pacific at twilight. I'd like to think I'm FINALLY FINISHED with that meaningful, misguided sadness, and I am presently on a major "TOTAL" upswing in my life, preparing to return to school in the Fall, locally, to complete college, after 6 successful years employed as an in-home-care-provider, and 3 years, 4 months drug-free. All my love goes out to the crew of the Big Kitchen, circa 1989-90, and all the BK family around the world, for eternity. I left my heart at the Big Kitchen, where it was "love at first bite," and spiritually, invisibly, I don flowers in my hair, which I am "sure to wear," if I journey back to the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE CAFE, and I might surprise you, sooner than you think! Please find below one of a few poems I composed about the flirtatious French female aforementioned, who was, if the truth be told, NOT INTERESTED in pairing with me, or males in general, as a matter of fact, although that knowledge was no deterrent to MY attachment at the time. Thanks, I will always remember you. Love, Scotty


A version of this entry was posted to:
http://bigkitchen.posterous.com/

MR. BUSDRIVER

Mr. Busdriver, can you take me home?
My blood's been boilin', and I'm broken down.
It won't be long, it won't be long...
Sweet things cookin' and a phone.

Mr. Busdriver, can you take me home?
If it wasn't for Mother Mary, I'd be all alone.
It won't be long, it won't be long...
Prayin', prayin' down to the bone.

Mr. Busdriver, I'm on the road again.
These troubles would have killed the likes of weaker men.
It won't be long, it won't be long...
Sweet things cookin' and some bones.

(SUMMER 1995/SCA)

BUBBA'S CAFE

Who I really love is you
As I love green and blue
Now, I'm having some the.
And these are the facts...
at...
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe.

Now you have gone on your own way
With or without you I face my own day
Sweet sister, you really sailed away!
And these are the facts...
at...
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe.

Cherishing you was best for me.
You had someone else I could see.
I guess you really needed to be free!
Now there's nothin' left to do but buy some tea...
at...
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe.

I would've preferred " 'til death do us part."
But you had other things on your chart.
I dreamt only of you dusk to dawn!
Now there's nothin' left to do but write this song...
at...
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe
Bubba's Cafe!

(JUNE 1994/SCA)

NO USE IN CRYIN' (OVER SPILLED MILK)

As you threw the Cheerios,
I noticed you were serious.
As you threw the Cheerios,
And started to cry.
You asked was I delirious.
You were just furious.
I was only curious
To know why.

I said, "There's no use in cryin' anymore!
There's no use in cryin' anymore!
There's no use in cryin' anytime!
Spilled milk you'll always be mine."
Was it the way I had my socks balled up
When I handed you the laundry?
Was it the way I
Looked up at you and smiled?

You started to clean up the cereal that you'd thrown.
I couldn't help but say, "You will reap as you have sown."
I looked inside the refrigerator and closed the door.
I said, "I found out there's no milk left. It's all on the floor."
You said, "There's no use in cryin'. I'll go get some more."
Then you threw 'way the paper towels and went out the door.

You've failed to return home. It's been over a week.
And right now the kitchen is really starting to reek.
I left my heart and the bowl the way they broke
And now I'm out on the porch 'avin' a smoke.

There's no use in cryin' anymore!
I said there's no use in cryin' anymore!
There's no use in cryin' anytime!
Spilled milk you'll always be mine!

(JUNE 14, 1994/SCA)

BABY DON'TCHA KNOW

She brings me tea, she brings me coffee.
Her body tastes like peanut-butter toffee.
Got to tell that girl how much she mean.
Knowed that girl since the age of seventeen.

I'm not the kind of guy,
Who won't help a woman to know why.
I'm not the kind of man,
Who won't help a woman to understand.
Baby, don'tcha know,
Baby, don'tcha know,
Baby, don'tcha know,
That I've got this feeling for you!

Well, I've seen the light in my baby's eyes.
My love for her, I cannot disguise.
Got to tell that girl, love her so.
Gotta' give that girl just a bit o' my soul.

I'm not the kind of fool,
Who loses a girl by playin' it too cool.
I'm not the kind of dude,
Who would get caught startin' up a feud.

Like our creation. Harmonies in motion.
With a certain duration. My heartbeat's racin'.
From the smell of your flower,
I am in your power.
Moment's are humblin', you send me fumblin'.

I'm not the kind of guy,
who won't help a woman to know why.
I'm not the kind of man,
Who won't help a woman to understand.
I'm not the kind of fool,
Who loses a girl by playin' it too cool.
I'm not the kind of dude,
Who would get caught startin' up a feud.
Baby, don'tcha know,
Baby, don'tcha know,
Baby, don'tcha know,
That I've GOT THIS FEELING FOR YOU!!

(JUNE 1994/SCA)

ON AGAIN

So ya' spent a little time in the undertow
Now you're seein' all the people that you used to know
They asked you why you'd been so low
You said you didn't know, "Oh, I don't know."

With the curtains closed, no lonelier place
Dust on the rose, dust on your face.
But you're on again, even though she's gone again
And you're gonna' make it through
No matter what you do, 'cause you're on again.

You'd been lyin' around with twisted sheets,
She said she didn't like you're life of defeat.
She said, "All you do is play the music you write!
I try to live with you but money is tight."

Wake up alone and cold. Note on the pillow nearby.
"This is getting old. Goodbye forever, goodbye."
But you're on again, even though she's gone again
And it's okay, it's a brand new day
And you're on again.

And times like these in the undertow
Can bring you to your knees and wear away your glow
You gotta' get back up and dust yourself off
Take another step and then you're off!

Floating in waves of endless depression.
Rise above the pain, rise above the derision
But you're on again, even though she's gone again.
And you're gonna' make it through
No matter what you do, 'cause you're on again.
And it's okay, it's a brand new day
'Cause you're on again!

(APRIL 1987/SCA)

SISTER

All alone without a sister,
Breaking shells like otters at sea;
Turn to find you're on your way here,
Sailin', sailin', home to me.

BETTER FRIENDS THAN LOVERS

May the moments break for you
As popped bubbles and rainy parades
All kaleidoscopic rainbows rattling off
Clever caresses of grand old intimacy
Like an attic's sentimental smell
Like dust on every faded trunk
Until antique hearts sift soft sand
With easy moonlight smiles.

(1998/SCA)

LULLABY FOR WEIR

Always, always, you will be mine.
Time, time, is our souls entwined.
Baby, baby, hush and do no' cry.
Spirit, spirit, such a pretty pony!

Moon is out and the Sun is in, you can close your eyes;
Diamonds, diamonds, shining in your mind.
Rollin', rollin', for it's strollin' time.
If you've no goofy dust, I will give you mine.
Daybreak, daybreak, can you see a man?
Fiddlin', fiddlin', on a little travelin' tune.
Baby, baby, good mornin', do no' cry.
Spirit, spirit, what a spotted pony!

(August 17, 1995/SCA)

NO FEAR OF THE PAIN

I never knew I could love you so much.
In learning to know the feel of your soul
I find it's tender but bold, free but yet old
As wise as the sea and enveloping me
With its grasp and its tugs
Like one of your hugs.

I try to hold in what bursts from within
With logic and searching for signs of a fall
But near shore, the sharp edges of lime
That have ripped up my heart time after time
Flashing in my sight
Through breaking surf and moonlight
Can't force to mind enough fear of the pain
To keep the golden-silk butterfly entangled in chains
And not free to give, its reason to live.

(1986/SCA)

DRAGONFLY

Blue Jasmine and I flew down to the swings
Sharing apricot wine and drying our wings.
Drink dragon's blood and I be true...
Dragon fly...high...with you.

I am hers and she is mine.
Peach-flesh, cream, and apricot wine
She soothes me as I sleep...
Dragon fly...high...over you.

I say hey, yeah.
I say lonely.
I say hey, yeah.
I say cry.

Blue Jasmine has taught me to see
She spoke the truth, honey-suckling me
And sang a free lullaby
Dragonfly...high...with you.

(1989/SCA)

MOCKINGBIRD

Yesterday, you just about blew my mind away.
Now I know, that it's hard for you to let it show.
If I were a mockingbird, I would sing you a song
and I hope that you would sing along.

So it seems
like this life could be made of dreams.
If I were a mockingbird, I would sing you a song
and I hope that you would sing along.

I wish I knew how this lovesong ends
I guess it all depends.

(1989/SCA)

JUST MEANT TO BE KING

What am I seeing?
You and me being
Together as one
Just don't sound too fun!

*Chorus:
Yeah, I touched your hand
But let's understand
It don't mean a thing
I just want to be king.

If I take a day
Off to make some hay
While the sun shines in
You'll know where I've been
Do I gotta' be
There when you need me
Wearin' away my shoulder?
If I were bolder
I'd be outta' here
Commitment means fear
An easier feat
Is to lie and to cheat!
So what should I do
'Bout you not lovin' you?
Pretend there's love there?
I don't give a care!
The tricks that I plan
Sometimes hit the fan
Blow back in my face
My morals, disgrace!
So now if you find
That you hate the whole kind
Remember one thing
I just meant to be king!

(1986/SCA)

MOOD SWING

Pendulum hittin' in the high
Swingin' back, leavin' me to cry
Why, oh, why must I live
Always havin' these...uh...mood swings.

When I make a happy day
Findin' just the right jokes to say
Someone still knocks me down
Into another...uh...mood swing.

But then you were there, baby
Stoppin' my heart from smackin'
The walls of the clock, baby
So I got a sweet...uh....mood swing.

Can't stop swingin' lady
But I'm a little more in control
So wind me up a bit, baby
And I'll fly into another...uh...mood swing.

This kinda' love, you know
Keeps the highs from smashin' so low
You're so wonderful to me, ya' know
Why not set me free for another...uh...mood swing.

(1986/SCA)

BROTHERS IN LSD

this I understood
but could not speak
ne'er 'fore had heard.
touched were parts of brain unused
nerves left dangling and confused
in the by and by.

beheld I all, frozen, one, dumbstruck, hung,
then going on.
moments drop from sky
to hall
but do not stop
the rolling ball.

identity, pulsing and insistent,
asserts this beautiful assertion
this meant-to-be insertion
this all-encompassing compensation
this clearly final say.

TODAY is a crazy word, absurd
but continuation, ah...we are stardust!
and I look to only find myself
and turn to see I am my own star mother!
and I recall all these others:
they are tribute to Perfect Mystery's disclosure.
a Grand Old Flag indeed for our Lord
who, so loving in spirit,
flits through faces of earnest selfhood
changing over
like an egg-shaped mobius in 3-D
or a bubble smiling, which then goes inside out and...
the smile is from that bubble's inner partner
each his other's star brother.
twins who have no opposites
and no identical likenesses
and I can hear Jerry's guitar way up here
insistently howling, THIS.

MY BABY SPOTTED A MIRACLE

My baby spotted a miracle,
Over the kitchen window.
'Twas the creaky rocker
Of the all-knowing Goddess.

We left the thawing chicken on the counter,
Scooted across the little tiles,
And broke into the safe sun;
Warm melted-cheese nachos of kindness.

Break happy wind, happy man!
Break happy wind and do not break my face!

Where this lake's edge meets me,
So I am the happy angler
With spittle-clean hands
And oily hair sweating.

We left the thawing chicken on the counter
Scooted across the little tiles
And broke into the safe sun.

What was shining
was more than echoes
of previous articulation
of previous understanding.

SUMMER 1998

heart goes beat in my mother's belly
I grow to play on jungle gyms.
approaching softly, always kindly
warm and bright, tell me slowly,
I'll take your word
I'll take it in.

BRIGHT MOTHER

Talking to you, I am a sailing, dying star.
No pilot to my flight in all your vastness.
Seeing you, I am surf across rocks,
Sprinkled chaotically, holding litter of ocean.
Knowing you, I breathe through a veil.
Am I plant or animal?
What could be here? What space in?
Your eyes are shining suns,
surrounded moons by dancers.
Awakening with thoughts of you,
I splash my boots in a puddle!
My legs are sore and wirey,
I danced all night in you.
I gnaw upon the rocksalt with all of my teeth missing.

AFTER DADDY'S POETRY

It changing me, I read you.
Sweetly, your warbling, smoke-tinged,
Dangling pitter-patter, edges of your being...
Spurting...spitting out breath-hole, clung,
Clung to the walls of me,
Like candles' soot,
In a chapel on the sea.

AS MONUMENTS

for many moons
I wore the stardust in my eyes.
there was this family of human persons
to love, to watch for
but the smoke blew away
their mothers called them in
and afternoon fell to night.

adrift across upshot impulses
as uncertain vessel upon waters unsure
hazy eyes are scattered in broken breezes
through the distance of the moon
and there is that which takes place
but would not be done
until my heart, plucked like fruit,
is eaten and gone.

it is as monuments who weep in low clouds
ashes scattered, broken down
the call and the ear are the only truths.
I wore the stardust in my eyes
for many moons.

HERE I SIT

stranded, sculpting raptures, here sit I.
the electric stench of my excitement, crackling, shrieking,
burrowing through my levity like roadkill.
birds' songs flinging my offal hither and yon.
what does your letter say by not coming?
what bitter taste of nothing food?
because of this thing
because of this thing
because of this thing.

POEM FOR JASMIN

To me you are an ice-skating rink
perfectly flat, and hard
that I step onto from the mushy rubber floor before
having gazed at the skaters in so many colors
and there being so many spaces to slip
and land on one's butt
with a smile for any watching.
I'd be happy to split my lip in falling and
mark my place in blood on you
while someone just barely misses my face
and the blade of their skate goes war-story close.
It's always so nice for me at this skating rink
with the sno-cone wind breathing in my ear.
actually, I'm warm
maybe because I have superpowers in reality and
I should act more brave next time I'm afraid.
anyway, I can't retie my laces.
I'll be stopping back by the lockers.
let's get some cocoa, oh pal, oh bud, I think it's seventy-five
and Dad is picking us up at three o'clock anyway!

SPOKEN IN A BASEMENT

It's nothing
no, not to cherish
not to have or to hold
it's just a thing in passing...
consequential love.
you shouldn't have to remember it.
you needn't watch for more.
it's nothing
no, not to hold.

ME TOO

Crush me, for the bread, for the soil.
Tease me, to the edge, and still.
Hush me, in mortal sleep, dream starlights dim
Please me, make that leap, to where I begin.

PATTERNS

patterns on the wall
shadows of rustling leaves
I can hear their whispering call
watch the swaying of the trees.

a pattern on the porch
shapes on the floor of boards
sun shines like a torch
wind beats back and forth the door.

patterns in the dust
where you stepped today
wind gives one more gust
and blows your footprints away.

there are patterns in my visions
country quilts and Indian weavin's
puppies being born
and for their first times seeing.

a pattern on the hillside
swaying grass and flowers
and like the ocean flowing
the rhythm beats on for hours
the rhythm beats on for hours and hours and hours.

ON REBIRTH AS A GIRL'S VOICE

With my last moment's breath,
"Lord, please fill my request
to be again, once more.
and not animal, plant, or man...
but just the voicebox
of a girl."

Then golden flute turned in a swirl!
with next moment's passage, I hear,
cries of infant loud and clear
and it's a girl
with boisterous dash and clatter
this child pipes out all that matters.
but over time she grows...
to sing and talk and laugh
such delicious wine pours from her carafe

"Wet your lips my darling woman.
Here through inflection, you're quoting Schumann.
Your sparkling spring doth win each day
With those sweetest songs and clever things to say."

a maiden sensitive to moment's notice
but still pleasanty wise, perhaps as tortoise
Now she has lived the full life of a lady
having called in blissful gaiety
and in love, in spite, and in health,
or sighed in throes of ecstatic self.

"Lord, this time was superb, I must declare,
but I've a thought as grey as her hair...
when it is milady's time to go
may I be the crunching of the snow."

WONDERING ON THE AIR

Walking on a breeze, leaves scatter by,
How high is my step?
How grand, and how strong?
Way above the salty ocean
I stop and stand on air.
How far might I fall?
For how long?

CHRIST'S CANDID

The wind is speaking, carries dust.
Sketches out counterpoint to Great Mystery's romance.
Sun splashes down thick beams
pelting His body...pitiful, yet embracing infinity.
Below the cross, some blood has mingled with dust.
Hear I not the trumpet of Gabriel?
By a ripple on His brow, Jesus' transcendence
into the Light, is revealed.

HOLIDAY

Comes another holiday.
You go by, bloody skimming from
your rise to its auspiciousness,
wreaking havoc on my medicine of season-watching,
myself a young man.
Could not my granddaddy be by
in an old whale song?

BENEDICT'S SEASON

In the grave of this love,
food of dust,
and dish clatter, do not eat...

but your dishwater left its mark on the hardwood of my heart
like an old rental in a Mexican neighborhood
and I make it to the flea market.
and I set aside time for winter.
and I go back on everything I've said.

This evocation of you,
it is as near to me as the pain of biting my tongue, and to be bleeding.
It is as sweet to me as a sacrifice which rescues the day.
It is as thick, as broad, and as vast to me as the beams of sunlight
I see in the forest, illuminating dust carried in the wind.
It is as pure to me as ceasing-fire after bullets and bloodshed.

This evocation of you,
it is just as bitter to me as my first bite of chocolate for baking before adding sugar.

This evocation of you,
it is as vivid to me as wounds in the Ides of March.
It is as high-pitched to me as the sound of bug-hunting bats at dusk.
It is as deep to me as any lady's purse must be, and deeper than any sorceror's satchel, for sure.
This evocation of you, it is as tight against me as berzerker Vikings outnumbering.

This evocation of you,
it is something in which I'd be so happy to drown, 
only to find myself resurrected so soon thereafter, 
having been inundated with a hundred thousand volts;
were my lips to touch and hold my face against the snowy blossom of yours, and kiss you.

You, my darling, were so smoked and dried.
You were the wine,
you were the saddle,
you were the jailbreak!

UPSIDE-DOWN CAKE

When the sun was an underwater bubble,
That came up for air,
Like a comet crashing to silver earth,
From blue-green sky,
All the little schoolgirls walked by,
And I was ready to go and
Breathe deep for a spell,
To forget, while I swam in the ocean,
That I must rock myself to sleep at night.

NINE DOVES

Come rager,
Step to the bottom rung,
Of your ladder,
Of blame.
Step to the Earth in its antiquity of peace.
Dove on one breeze.
My feelings are this Ming Dynasty bowl,
Spattered with a million tiny droplets of blood.
You cannot see me coming.

this IS what it is

the water rushes in and tears at slippery rocks
and coughs and wheezes
tearing off away
and back again.
It does not matter
if I drown
if you drown
and we're both washed away from here.
It is only God talking to Himself.

EARTH

this tame scurry
promises broken like innocent threads.
pitter-patter of diamonds flying windy blood.
swallow gobbles of burrito practically whole.
flash my face like a stock exchange.
too much butter and the java and me.
it glides just right at peace
with some surveillance mission
some target practice
when the diamond is return to coal.

but old time is impartial, scoot along time!
and the birds sing computer world
and veins filled with ceramic dinnerware
whose sentiments are prolonged
by a carefully drip drop faucet clinging in moments.
moments who jumble around in poor dancer's guise.

DEAD LINES

thick black nighttime
paler shade of day
how soon until
my bones dance, clattering?

UNCONSCIOUS KNOWLEDGE

I know now that
there must be ghosts at the beach!
wouldn't you be?
or ghosts in a milkshake.
wouldn't you?

TO BENEDICT

I forgot your magic.
I can feel a fresh moment with my most recent last breath.
I remember to inspire my lungs full of salty ocean water.
Now I sense the miracle.
Now I am pregnant by you... with you.

LETTER TO GOD

I will remember
a set of watercolors
brand new
like a coffin
or a Christmas tree.
I wrote a letter to God.
It was the footprints of an ant
on the Kleenex of the box.
I expect He shall always remember it.
that is His nature.
but I might die...forgetting the set of watercolors
which was my original letter to God.

SPECIAL TEA

the camera of a doll's eye
I pose for a snapshot, smile for the camera
it is something I always do
I know she is breathing
I know she is wondering
what I'll do next.

FISH OF HEAVEN

I could have gone crazy monitoring my glancing at the sky.
I didn't notice searching out shooting stars.
I didn't notice giving up on them.
I stop and eat the raw fish,
Expectant of a gift, so anxious to accept.
How handsome, experience.
How still the sky.

SETTLING DOWN

Onto His sweetness, the happy crying of my body.
Now resting, now in laughter am I.
Does not reality itself meditate on my flights of fancy?
It is strange, this difference from before.
Stranger to settle on what is the same.

NARY TO TARRY

I fancy myself athlete celebrated
Lo, here is desolation folded in ink night
onward, then
but I act as if I am only at home
distance is my lover
and endurance my gift
sweat is my mother
and my blood, the hearth by which she sits
the starry sky is my looking-glass image

POET TREE

Oh, poet tree, oh, poet tree
oh, could you bloom some words for me?
petals bright and red and scented
that flights of fancy might be vented
oh, hillsides thick with muds and grass
and musical streams who wander past.

as washes away the silt to ocean
I would set to sail my poetic notion
of lovers in gems that shine as stars
whose searching calls are heard afar
when daybreak plays a mean guitar
and broken hearts are mended, mended
and broken hearts are mended.

SCHIZOPHRENIA

I could only use my mind...as wood for fire
I think of how mighty is the spirit embodied
but wonder, embers glowing, which light is cast?
In combusting, do you admire your fuel?