rohnbayesjourney

gonna fire this musket

spent my whole life loading it
musket ball powder ram
charge the long slender
barrel of my youth

wasted there in
full view of the forest
of opportunities of the

holy ghost my church
was the only unknown
creeping thru cracks
in the floor

if you're waiting for this
poem to make sense i
wait too i wait with you
to find the trigger point
the sweet release the awesome
trajectory that we shall define

a new world or a failed
system - if my filmscript
goes thru it'll mean i
can buy a new car
and be recognized in 
restaurants for everybody
will have heard the story
the hard crack the
percussion of the projectiles sudden ejection
into dawn's dim light though
only 1 beat was true the
ball hit something and 
felled that beast that
ogre or whatever it was
that other that predator

i see now

it could be that i've had
too much coffee
or not enough

i insist on making my
point and because you're kind
enough to listen it means
more i like you am
waiting for the report 

 

illicit is

they told me i was illicit
when i rode my bike thru
the school playground full of
kids from the nimitz
middle school there
walking the track playing basket
ball talking in groups oh
i tried to do a lap but
was bullied by two mean
teachers who explained that
i was illicit and couldn't
be there presumably i would
be arrested if i persisted
in being there so i
resisted the temptation to
tell the mean teachers what
is this a public school or
a correctional facility of
course i understood the danger
of illicit people showing up
and polluting the minds of these
young people just ready for making
their association of meaning
with the world a tender
time for sure all caution
should be deployed
depending on how
many are needed no child
is left behind says the slogan
so then how to tell the illicit
from those complicit with
the agenda school hell what
i remember most is staring
out the window bored and wish-
ing someone illicit would
show up on a bike
and wave at me from outside
a similar smile touching
his mouth as mine curled in
time with the teacher
saying pay attention please 

the pain the horror the embarrassment

don't start this again
i'm sitting on the porch
listening to birds sing from
over there a melodious trill 
and from over there as if
in reply a melodious trill 
again as if of course they are one
crow brings in the
bass and the stereo effect
kicks in again spatial
response about 12 degrees to the
front center a little to the
right now there are two
mockingbirds and i believe
i have not heard this song before
ever - they seem to know this
and pour it on jazzing up the
final riff open my eyes and
there they are tearing it up thru
the mulberry bush climbing
higher and higher closing in
for a brief encounter a flutter
of frantic wings beating escape
higher and higher attack it's sex
they're onto and off
she flies left banks
to the hackberry's generous
limb lands and calls out

oh my it was quiet for
a time then started again
some large billed parrot from
costa rica was in the
neighbor's yard apparantly and
answered with the same sweet
voice its twin on the
telephone pole

the sky was full of this
misty light which is why
i suppose the birds were singing

the early morning history
of this place included a
a light rain which still
resides in the form of
tiny droplets of water
on every blade of grass
i can only imagine how
this looks from above

the door bell rings it's a
bird from next door in a
tree the faintest whistlings
from afar come from the sky

i close my eyes again
and remember a poem that
didn't work the pain the
horror the embarrassment 

no touch me water said my cat

coming out of the shower
the curtain slid back
miati or tiabi whichever it was
both names are interchangeable
tiabi i think stood there
black with yellow eyes
and said . . . nothing
so i flicked some water her way
she jumped back
peeked around the door jamb
at me dripping nakedly
on the tile floor a pool
forming at my feet a day
forming at the door a consort
a concert a focus an effort to
get this far now that i'm wet

all that remains is to be combed and
dry and clothe the fine line
between being here and the messages
that arrive from my cat 

a poem for the writer's group

well first off
i just wanted to hang out
with the writer's group people
but i knew i had to have something
to say my ticket
to enter the core the clique
the cult (which is nothing
but a miniature culture of like minded creatures)

first i had to find my freedom
the sound and the sense of something
the words of my poem and place them
in a form the circle could embrace
i traced the trail back to
some time before the words formed
and the world was new 

a fine mist rose from the garden
obscured the sun like a moon
it hung above the whispering trees
lit the glowing morning glories
yes they existed back then as they
do today climbing the broken stems of
older frames
in my front yard
picture this a world new as a
two year old and unspoken only
the breeze coming down from
the mountain where the snow
lies where the ice forms before
it releases its water to the
streams the rivers of the valleys
the gardens of the earth
picture this a bird

singing in a voice like a flute
like a lute a song
never heard before
never heard again 

reading neruda

and rilke and wallace stevens while
drinking coffee on a windy day leaves
strewn and carpeted where i walk out
to taste the wet air there are no
angels here to administer the potion
but a mockingbird flies to the tree
of life and settles in a cloudy sky
above reaches out to embrace
the rim of earth and in
the cup a gift of blue porcelain appears where
the coffee is not

anymore having been sipped a moment
ago it is well on it's way and sinks 
below

the doors of my mouth a metaphor for
forgiveness curls against the roof of my
mouth a tiny leaf
posing as an omen yellow and serrated
lands on the keyboard i have come
from nowhere and am lost again
it says in conclusion 

what brings you to the land of the gatekeepers ??

i'm looking for someone

someone very dear ?? a kindred spirit ??

 

harmonic convergence

it's bound to happen it would
love to happen maybe it has
happened the return
of the messiah the coming
of the kingdom of heaven
or in this case the 11.11.11. party
in my backyard with haloed moon
above and below the drums and drummers
drumming at 11 past 11 on 11.11.11. was when
we re-created a new world and everything
found it's place the tables and chairs
scattered all over the yard a bowl
of chips empty shish ka bob sticks
plastic bottles in the pool floating
like japanese lanterns we all cheered
and shouted once it began and then
slowly fell silent and into talk
of politics again and what should have been
gathered around the fire

 

florescence

protrubence
antenna on tree

have you met nick drake

  

 

 

 

Amtrak

Traking east thru urban desert east LA freeway grafitti trucks bums under the overpass camped in the cathedral mountains now love the way they descend fingers and stones into ranch land the trees the plants growing in concrete the observation car I think the cars on I10 the itunes on RP the kids in the car the sky the breath the wind bends the poles of telephones the stray dog chimneys and driveways why the brown dirt ?? sun going down diesel electric now we're going fast passing volvos passing time curves views bottles of beer and giant windmills time for dessert read that book lost those bars

Sent from my iPhone

forgive everyone

as if it were the last day of
your life
it might be
or tomorrow
or one fine day special & penultimate
down the road aways

but why wait until then
to enjoy the apricot of love
and the tangy zesty pomegrantes
of deliverance ??

sunny day by sophia

double click for full scale picture

an espresso with no sugar

sitting in the cafe
in Barcelona rock n roll reggae
playing on the speakers and
coffee in a cup black on white
an espresso with no sugar
a plaza with a cross on a
moorish pedestal a church
a dog barking a pigeon on
the wall shadows in the
dirt murmuring people
voices in different languages
sunglasses by my iphone
pen with paper
uno beinte says the lady

infinite

there are an estimated 10 billion stars in our galaxy
and an estimated 10 billion galaxies in the universe
that would be 10 billion billion stars

some think it's 300,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
that's 3 hundred thousand billion billion stars

i think it's infinite