rohnbayesjourney

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 

the heat

holy suffering suckotash
the hot summer days of texas
from the view point of the reckless brown grasses
protecting the dusty dry dirt
is pretty much 'what lawn?'

as most of it is thistles and stalk
talking all night long amongst themselves
in a whispery voice about the baby birds
dying in their own nest (as if i didn't know this) the brave mom
helpless against the onlslaught no bugs

no worms no suckotash it's bleak vinegar
and gall it's beaten and shriveled
the desiccated acacia and it's spiny horns

gestures to the dry empty sky reminding
me to look out for thorns
in the grass where i ride
my bike the broken glass in the street
and the trees by the side

have painted themselves
the color of rain their only way
of praying i once was a tree with a friend
in a play on a stage by the river
downtown

and our part was to dance when
pam came out and we did i
remember i remember I
remember how we swayed
how it rained

in the restaurant

everyone has someone
to talk to except me & her
the lady at the other table
we have books
if i could record the conversation
around me i could make a book
'it's all about . . . '
'you doin alright over there . . . '
'well thank you . . . '
'yeah you're an artist but . . . '
'you go in and we this . . . '
'4 things . . . '

many things make a book
a book is made of many things
'sure . . . '
'yeah . . . '
'so uh . . . '
'but anyway . . . '

i'm talkin to you

compost

i love compost

these leaves are deposited in a pile when i clean the pool

next they go to the earth machine

where they are processed into

compost !!

let's not forget to mention the beet tops the garlic skins the coffee grounds the orange peel and the tea bags the dirt the weeds and the corn husks

wilted flowers

what's really interesting

is how the little baby jesus

lights up from within as night falls
his parents are full of light

the palm tree is glowing
the darkness recedes

a respectful distance and let's the lord do his thing

 

solstice benediction

i read the poem with sophie
at the lunar eclipse full moon solstice party last night
standing around the fire in the backyard
joe from down the street and katie his daughter
tethered to the new puppy
nicole mother of sophia
jack a young munchkin of the neighborhood
and claudia
it was lightly attended but we felt
strongly (or some of us did) that we could scare off
the snake god from trying to eat the moon godess
but that came later
first sophia godess of wisdom and princess
of the neighborhood performed magic tricks
then we saluted the sky

stars and moon that cover our play
be not far away
be close
comfort us with peace
in the dark bring us light

bring us hope
until our hearts become a sky
full of lights and
sheltering close this time
this moment
this life

the eclipse came at 12:33 am
the snake god nibbling away at the moon
clouds were streaming by her face
fast moving clouds full of moisture from the gulf

we stamped we shouted
we danced and we beat the drum
me and sophie did
until she was completely unseen

the following night i saw the moon again
as big and fat as a pumpkin

so open

this morning glory is
sitting in the rain by my gate

so open
it will die by evening
a wilted husk will remain

in the morning new buds will come
light purple lavender and grey
this has been the pattern

all summer

for the midwinter fire

we came together a cold sunless night in december to celebrate the old way the passing away of the sun and the new one coming my neighbors and i

we grilled shish kabob in the backyard and drank winter ale and kept the fire while the kids swung in the hammock chair screaming and made fire sticks to write in the air and stuck their heads in the pool

we talked about things and sent occasional directives out to the children who hovered at the edge interacting with the elements or swooping in close for a carrot stick or a taste of beer or a roasted shrimp and back out again we held the core us adults stayed close to the fire - it needed us and we sampled every ale on the table

we talked about the years and toasted each other with a mild clunk only plastic cups can afford and when the time came to feed the fire i stepped boldly forward and thrushed out the brush pile for more stems and tops lined logs around the base and linked up with my comrades again

all alone or together the kids orbited the galactic center created new radii exchanged the atoms of their breathing with each other opened and closed black holes found shadow and light found the fence line looked back at us adults with a glance to see where we stood dangled bits of broken sticks in the water chased each other thru past thru the perimeter of the fire and with all their might hurled mighty spells out into the dark and distant night

hi charlie

indeed a safe trip was had by all 

i went down the dark tunnel to the underpass east on mistletoe with the sun dropping low and passed over at st marys thru the park 
 and into brackenridge picked up speed coming down the creeek
until it merged on  broadway
set forth on the sidewalk heading north to the west of the cars that were in the road
i whirred past the bum on the bench and passed out on booze dreaming of angels past
the sprinklers at the witte museum their jets intersecting above the grass in a perfect pyramid of light  i remembered
our conversation and the necker cube and loving the water and was doused with the sprinklers last gift
the last wave of the last fountain  spraying out over the street from it's place in the grass
i laughed

past the university and the blue hole thehome of the original ones
those here
when we found the place and adopted it for our city council for our own protection against the wind and our economy built up against all odds and built on the solid stock of our economy the hotel right there on the right where the cowboys live even now the restless the lonely
and coming down the street a couple of buddies bringing home the beer
sleepy already with the haze that beer brings and central market the oasis of light appeared and people
 shopping with their carts moving here and there left and right
i stopped and moved among them until i found the water fountain
 and then moved on  the uniited methodist church of christ is up on the left
it's all on theleft on this leg running up  broadway thru the desert of lower upper mid way until
 i saw the beacon of light on the broadway bicycle shop it's chevron shining out
blue and white guiding me upt the hill and thru the forest of alamo heights densely packed with escalades
and down morning glory again to the traffic on new braunfels highway

that's where the danger lies i raced to the other
side when space permitted
turned right at the sunset ridge apartment buildings
climbed the tor upinto the devonhood and sprinted the last
hill thru the drive and past the gate to the backyard
where the sacred spring lies
parked the bike and there baptized

found on the picnic table at UIW campus

 
near the rivet a tiny little guy
drawn into the wood and standing next to a maze on one hand and on the other a giant mushroom
arrows are pointing into the maze and next to the magic mushroom a panda emerges from the clouds chewing on the exclamation pointed bamboo
behind the panda and over it's right shoulder floats a lotus and a clump of grapes - drops are falling from the lotus which turn into hearts and rain down on all below

this completes my account of the drawing if you cannot see it plain enough due to the vagaries of light under this oak at noon or the limitations of my cell phone camera

but what i really like about the picture - besides the fact that it's here on the picnic table with me on this glorious spring day in san antonio texas a wispy breeze barely felt and a perfect temperature leading no doubt to the variety of dress employed by the students and their shoes oh my the high heeled black power stompers and the persian grey slippers the common tennis shoe and the flip fop sandal are all passing by - but what i like most is the comment placed near the maze by an anonymous author setting up a challenge for any takers to try and conquer it's devious ways

'Bet you can't do it! $10!!!'

and the reply carved carefully nearby 'cause there's no way you loser you cheater'

but there is
and it's the shortest route possible visible
at the bottom left corner of the maze apologies
for mentioning it zig zag zog you're in and out