Apple Cider
APPLE CIDER
(Poetry Journal – Volume One)
[* *]
by Cathy Smith
copyright © 2016
[_ _]
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the author, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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[][][]INTRODUCTION
[* *]
There is a little biographical information which would paint this poetry with a brush that I really think would be interesting to my readers. Green rain was written in one of my many favorite places, Harvard Yard. The fingers of a baby toad were viewed in Kent’s Store, Virginia. Baby toads used to crawl inside my wash water bucket at a campground I was staying in there.
I have lived near many beautiful forests and even owned two small ones. A word about the beauty of Harvard Yard: the trees there are the largest I have ever seen throughout the entire country -- some of them, it is said, are over 300 years old... I really fell in love with them, sitting underneath them frequently in the rain to relax after work -- and also to wait for the bus. The bus stop was nearby, in front of George Washington's yellow house (his regional headquarters during the Revolutionary war) which is now a Harvard administration building.
Other favorite places include the Florida Everglades, the Mojave desert in California and the Pacific Ocean near Santa Monica and, of course, Venice Beach. To this I would add Provincetown on Cape Cod -- and, also, two communes that I lived on in Virginia and Tecumseh, Missouri -- Twin Oaks and East Wind. There are poems written about each of these places in my work.
And know, there is a little Zen in this book as well.
One last thing -- I have some instructions on how to read this. See it as a ‘Book of Days’ -- like a calendar. It was my journal and my diary, yes even the photos, so it was meant to be read aloud to one’s self or to someone else…one poem at a time, like a good pastry. So enjoy a taste here…
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[_ (Photograph -- n. Maine, my back yard) _]
[* *]
Green rain
[* *]
*One raindrop at a time *
began to fall on
*a leaf bouncing it up *
and down.
[* *]
I was sitting underneath
the foliage in the rain
watching the rivulets
trace new streams down
through the moss and
small plants and
green ferns.
I shivered
from the cold rain.
The arms of the forest
[* *]
formed a secret
umbrella dancing
like leafy
piano keys playing
simultaneously
and also
bowing singly
over my head.
[* *]
With
wet, green fingers
the lush downfall became
invisible
in its connection with
the player piano
leaves, which
[* appeared above -- *]
[* all at once -- high across *]
the upper boughs
of the waving branches
of a large pine tree.
[* *]
*Leaves fell in the wind *
and stuck on
the tree trunk above me like
the little green
fingers
of a toad.
[* *]
[
__]
(Bank of the Charles River in Harvard Square, Cambridge, Massachusetts)
Unspun wool
[* *]
After the rain
I wandered
from hill to
*hill there was *
no one there.
[* *]
Every flower was
fresh, strong and
milky, as if the stems
were drinking from the moist
green earth.
[* *]
The grass sprang up
behind my footsteps
undamaged by the
slight pressure of
my passage. I walked
until I could see
nothing but the cloudy,
stretching, bathed,
naked and blue
sky.
The clouds had
wrung themselves
dry
of moisture
and were
gathered
together into
*silky spools as if they *
*had just been spun *
on a spinning
wheel.
The stretching azure
was vast and empty
except
for some sparsely scattered
[* unspun bunches of vapor -- *]
soon being wheeled
across the wild air
into thin, wispy
thread.
[* *]
[* *]
[* *]
[* *]
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[_ _]
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[_ _]
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fresh green apples
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(Or What To Do With Too Many Apples & Blueberries)
[_ _]
Fresh green apples and blueberries,
[_ sweet and tart -- _]
[_ _]
My gingerbread
recipe:
[_ _]
Any kind of wild
berry,
[_ _]
(especially wild raspberries,
[_sweet and tart) combined with _]
whole wheat and ginger.
[_ _]
Also consider adding:
blueberries,
sweet and tart, and
tart green apples
[_ _]
for pies
with criss-crossed crust,
too bubbly,
stickily bubbly
[_ _]
when they are hot …
[_ _]
cooking in the oven.
[_ _]
Apple syrup with crisped
apple peel edges.
[_ _]
Burning my fingers
_right through _
the thick patterned
mitten-shaped pot holders
in my full-length
[_ruffled apron with the pocket. _]
[_ _]
Served up hot
[_ _]
on the kitchen table
[_ _]
with the smooth white
linen table cloth ironed into
_exactly eight _
sharp-creased squares:
[_ _]
four on one
side four on
the other.
[_ _]
Fresh milk with
apple cookies,
[_ _]
apple sauce,
wild cranberry sauce,
blackberry jam,
[_ _]
apple butter,
[_ _]
baked green apples and
apple pancakes.
[_ _]
Dried apples carved
into wooden faces,
[_ _]
strings of cranberry necklaces,
(pearly cranberry necklaces) with berries like
[_ _]
red diver’s pearls tied
with cotton string ties
for springtime, fall and
summer time gatherings hidden in
[_flowering tree groves, _]
[_ _]
in blueberry patches,
[_ _]
[_ in mossy bogs -- _]
looking for
[_ the empty shells of robin’s eggs -- _]
[_ _]
blue speckled
[_ robin’s eggs -- we put whatever _]
_broken shards we find _
(and sometimes
whole empty shells)
[_ _]
[_on the windowsill. _]
[_ _]
Next to a candle is
a falcon’s feather
and carved wrinkled
apples with
scrap-cloth dresses and
gingerbread-style faces,
spiced apple faces with
raisin-button eyes,
raisin-button smiles,
paper hats,
[_ _]
painted noses
and homemade dimples.
[_ _]
Apple
_dumplings tonight. The _
dried apple dolls keep
on smiling with their
honey drop eyes,
yarn hair and
peppermint red
dresses:
[_ _]
zig-zag
gum-wrapper arms
outstretched
for a big baby-hug,
_with big fake red _
lips puckered up
saying “kiss me”.
[_ _]
[_That night ‘round nine or _]
nine-thirty we ate
juicy slices of dumpling with
our fingers, sucking
out the boiling juice
when it cooled,
_wearing cranberry necklaces _
_and showing them _
[_ off -- using every single _]
cotton ruffled apron
that we had.
[_ _]
,
[_ _]
porcelain-enameled metal tables
and checked
table clothes filled with
[_ _]
[_ four hot apple and blueberry pies -- _]
[_ _]
three big ones
[_ _]
and a smaller one
thick covered wide-brimmed
crust and toothpick marks.
[_ _]
“A” for apple.
“B” for blueberry. I like my slice
[_ _]
a la mode with heavy
_whipped cream. Making my _
own whipped cream while I cook,
I slide it along the side of
_a heavy crock bowl, _
taking lazy peeks
into the oven.
[_ _]
Too soon.
Just in time,
before it got burnt.
[_ _]
Burnt my fingers again. The
_lazy whipped cream peaks _
as I am dreaming about
marshmallow clouds over the
minty lemon sunshine.
[_ _]
The whipped cream
should not be allowed
to turn into butter.
[_ _]
Ginger
cinnamon,
allspice,
[_ _]
[hot apple cider. *] [ *]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][[* *]_]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ (photograph -- n. Maine, my back yard) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
In the forest
[_ _]
Near
the
forest in a field
staring wide-eyed still
soundlessly
deer, sshhh.
[_ _]
I stand next to the river.
[_ _]
The water is a window. I can
_see the fish _
all the way to the
_bottom of any of the streams _
that run off down into
_the hills. Throughout the _
[_ _]
summer growing season
the Ginkgo, Oak, Elm, Spruce
[_ and Cedar -- Chestnuts and _]
_Persimmon start to spread. And the _
strange Sycamore trees.
[_ _]
Needles and leaves are scattered
_upon the ground thick as a _
_carpet. _
[_ _]
[_There is the heavy smell of pine gum. _]
[_ _]
The pine trees themselves touch
across the forest floor with a
turpentine,
fish bone, spiny-cone, clove-smelling
paint brush hand.
[_ _]
A green paint brush for a hand.
[_ _]
In the winter, the snow is
cut sharply by thirsty ice on
a knife-like bank. The edge of the
_river slices against _
my bare raw exposed ankles
_trembling, moving quickly _
in the cold running
pebble-bottomed brook.
[_ _]
Can’t forget to wear your
socks in the winter.
[_ _]
Like, I always try to get away
_with it anyway. Better _
than getting my socks
_wet when I break _
the ice with my feet like
_I usually do. The cold _
feels good though.
_At least, at first, until I _
get home into the warmth
_and then my toes start to _
sting. Better luck next
_time. Next time the crack _
from the crashing ice
[_won’t send the deer _]
running for the next county.
[_ _]
_Near the forest in a field _
staring wide-eyed, large
[_eared, white-tailed, the _]
color of wood and dry grass,
_inside the sounds, underneath _
the sounds I make with
[_my wide-track feet are _]
_the deer again, sshhh. A bird _
[_I hadn’t heard before _]
sings under the whisper of a
[_deer’s breath. Sounds a lot _]
_closer than I thought. _
_I turn slowly and back down _
_in my mind, you know. Deer _
[_can kick. They aren’t really _]
[_that small when you are _]
_practically standing right _
next to them.
[_ _]
[_ ][ _]
[
__]
[_ _]
(Bench near the Charles River, Harvard Square, Cambridge, MA)
[_ _]
[_ _]
Candy faces
[_ _]
The grass
[_ _]
was as soft
as
a
bed.
[_ _]
The
pillow
was
crushed
flowers.
[_ _]
A
white
and
yellow
clover
necklace.
[_ _]
A
white
and
yellow
candy
necklace.
[_ _]
[_ _]
Yellow
and white
candy
necklaces.
[_ _]
Yellow
and
white
pearls,
little
_blossoms _
_strung _
on a string
with
a
needle.
[_ _]
One
clover
flower.
[_ _]
One
clover
flower
with
sweet
candy-filled
petals.
[_ _]
Candy
hearts,
[_ _]
candy faces
and
candy lips.
[_ _]
Sandy beaches,
[_ _]
park benches,
enameled green
wrought iron
legs.
[_ _]
Hot sun-warmed sand.
The tongues of the ocean
forming white maps,
teary inches
where I might have
been before.
[_ _]
I walked
as deeply as I could
up to my chin,
disappearing
[_ _]
underneath the
water.
There were rushing
shells swimming
back to shore,
[_ _]
candy hearts.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
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[_ (Photograph -- n. Maine, my living room window) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
My large window
[_ _]
My large window
overlooks a meadow,
_looking out over _
a field of sheep
and nine little lambs.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
And rainbows
[_ _]
and rainbows
and rainbows
and rainbows
and diamonds
and rainbows
and pearls
and butterflies
and diamonds
and diamonds
and butterflies
and rainbows
[_ _]
strings of pearls
and gold and silver
_the teardrops _
of the morning on
the edges of flowers
rose petals
daisies
[_ _]
the golden sun
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][ _]
[
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[_[* *] (Photograph -- Florida Everglades on the Tamiami Trail) _]
[_ _]
The center of the earth
[_ _]
The center of the earth
was a steamy veil
with muffled voices
behind it.
[_ _]
The trees
(with some of
their roots
_exposed _
hundred of years
ago) dug deep into
different strata
of clay;
_underneath _
the water tables
[_ and rock tables -- _]
reaching
to the liquid fire
at the center
of the earth.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
The green grass
[_ _]
The green grass
sticking to my leg
leaves
long-stemmed
prints of four fingers.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Big yellow
sunflowers
[_ _]
Big
yellow
sunflowers
with lazy brown eyes.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][ [* *]_]
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[
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[_ (Photograph -- southern Canada on the Yellow Hair Highway, near Skeena River.) _]
[_ _]
The wide blue sky
[_ _]
After the rain
the earth was fresh and green.
The swallows came up to me with
their small beaks and ate the bread
from my hand.
[_ _]
The soft tall stalks of grains in the fields
(barley,
groats,
millet)
[_ _]
waved back and forth together
at the same time, moved by the wind,
like flowing hair made of wheat.
[_ _]
I always lay down here,
my bare toes stuck between
[_ the stalks -- _]
staring up at the wide blue sky.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Green shoots
[_ _]
The dull backsides
of knee-high grass sit in
[_ _]
the valley, which is filled with
plain brown earth.
[_ _]
Once in a while, the
stalks of the
_grass stems dry out and _
edge the fields with a tan
color.
[_ _]
I usually peel the grass back and
chew on the green shoots.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
We drank tea from
wooden cups covered
in birch bark
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
I made a pillow
from cut grass,
a blanket from the
peeled-smooth branches of
the willow tree, pounding
the naked willow wands
into fabric.
[_ _]
I made
a river from small
stones,
[_ _]
and tiny chairs from twigs.
A line of ants
were my guests.
[_ _]
We drank lake water tea
from wooden cups that I carved
_myself and covered with birch _
bark.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[
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[_ (Photograph -- n. Maine, my back yard. Summer is an explosion of many different kinds of wild daisies.) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
The crown of a hat
[_ _]
Wildflowers,
a straw hat with
[_ a cloth band. -- _]
[_ _]
I plucked
one yellow daisy and
_stuck it in _
the band of the hat.
[_ _]
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[* *]
[
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[_ _]
(Photograph – a cat in Brighton, MA. This cat sat on this stoop every day, just about.)
[_ _]
[_ _]
The cat
[_ _]
The cat that decided to chase the
raindrops splattering underneath
the porch
[_leaped about like she _]
was scattering the threads
[_ of tangled puddles -- scary _]
_mirrors. Toweling _
herself dry, the cat
smoothed her velvet fur
_with a scratchy _
small-tongued comb.
[_ _]
_The other cat ran _
underneath the house, as well,
and was
quiet, watching
_the rain, sitting and _
lying in the curly shell
_of an old cushion inside _
of a woven straw basket
[_ we use to pick strawberries with -- _]
_protected by the eaves of the _
house. The house was an
[_over-sized hat with wings, _]
purple-y wooden knobs
and gingery-gray jigsawed
_scalloped shingles _
on orange siding.
[_ _]
The basket was woven into
_square straw sections _
[_ and was a little torn -- _]
_so that the top of it looked _
like splinters of wood
or grain straws,
or something to press into
the clay on the bank of a river
and decorate with
small pieces of colored glass and
silvered wire.
[_ _]
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[_ _]
[_ _]
[
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[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- N. Florida or Georgia, campground.) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
It is towards evening
[_ _]
[_ _]
It is towards evening
when I finally realize
_that the day is like the _
evergreen: dark and light
growth in its fullness.
[_ _]
The final cool end of the day
comes high on top of the trees,
as if the heating and cooling
of the earth is threatening the broad
starry sky to not
_reappear past the darkening clouds, _
[_ _]
as the light through
the woods flickers out like a match.
Never mind,
[_ _]
even though they say that the stars
are not permanent, but have been
burning relentlessly for billions
of years and, just now (and when
[_ _]
we can see their
light in the rising darkness
of the sky far away),
they, of course, burn again
underneath a wash of clouds
over the continuous sound of
[_ the ocean -- _]
all night long
until the morning
[_ and on towards evening again -- _]
when the dark evergreen
in its fullness reaches
for the coolness
in the deeper tides
[_ _]
of indigo.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[* *]
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[_ _]
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A grizzly bear day
[_ _]
[_ _]
A grizzly bear day:
its rainy teeth stuck
in the hollow of a tree.
A squirrel hung upside down
out of the hollow
_of a Sycamore tree _
back east.
[_ _]
She was eating and staring at me,
[_ still upside down -- _]
[_ _]
looking at me
sitting below
at the bottom of
_the _
tree.
[_ _]
A grizzly bear day.
I can still see that squirrel’s
pretty dark eyes.
As
she ate
her small ears
twitched. She
held a bitter green
acorn.
[_ _]
A grizzly bear day.
An owl sat way up high
in a spruce tree,
way up high…
high.
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The ground is thick with leaves
[_ _]
The
ground is thick
with papery brown leaf
cut-outs;
[_ _]
thick with
cookie-cutter maple mulch
and
scratchy elm bark.
Spongy
[_ _]
half-trunks of dry
wood trail
hollow
sharp valleys
and
tall
squeaky
grass.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[
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[_ (Photograph -- Fishing boat at dock in Ketchikan, Alaska) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
At the beach
[_ _]
At the beach,
the seagulls cried
_sounding like the cutting of a thick cloth _
with a pair of dull rusty scissors.
[_ _]
The sand was hot
on the palms of my feet;
the salt water washed
against the shore. I sat
[_ _]
[_ _]
on the sand
with fragments of shells,
dead crustaceans,
sea sponges,
dried starfish, the
jaws of small sharks and
barnacles attached like buttons to
broken, bundled, stranded and tattered
baskets of seaweed.
[_ _]
Terns cried on the dock.
The timber
stuck in the sandy bottom of the ocean
forced boats to grind against their chains,
[_ singing a song with percussion and brass bells -- _]
[_ _]
calling across the sea
like the sound of a tinny
[_ accordion. -- _]
[_ _]
A concertina of noise played loudly against
the long low moan of
a far-away boat.
[_ _]
_A piece of driftwood, a soda straw _
and a piece of
[_ paper make a sailboat. -- _]
With a paperclip to fasten
_the sail, we can send it _
rolling up and down like
_four thousand ton passenger _
[_ ships -- sailing far above _]
everything that quietly swims
underneath
[_ _]
the silent ocean surface,
underneath my driftwood boat,
[_[*sent with a message. *] _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
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[* *]
[
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[_ (Photograph -- La Jolla, California) _]
[_ _]
I found a beach in France
[_ _]
I bask in the sun.
I found a beach in France
(on the Riviera)
and slept alone in a rented room on the
beach there. I looked
in wonder
upon the difference in the ocean water
here and the ocean water overseas,
on the American beaches.
[_ _]
[_ It is sweeter here only sometimes -- _]
like when I found gardenia growing
hidden in an alcove (slightly
to the right)
underneath an arch.
[_ _]
The gardenia were
_tucked into a corner _
along with baggy canvas gloves,
torn straw hats, rotting leaves and
an old pinking shears rusting away to
orange crusts.
[_ _]
_No one would ever _
think of finding gardenia there.
_Except for my own _
searching hands, they
_would have been _
[_ lost forever -- falling _]
underneath sharp-tongued bushes,
_planted with foreboding thorns, _
[_ leaving me with welts -- _]
red marks proclaiming an acquisition,
_warning me with their wagging _
_tongues, moving from side _
to side like women with
wide hips, scratching
[_ with too thin fingers -- flowers _]
blooming near their legs.
[_ _]
I must have looked at the tiled drain
in the center of the patio too long
and sat on the empty oil can
_overcome by wonder _
at that calling fragrance.
[_ _]
So much so that I had forgotten
why I sat there at all.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
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[_ _]
[
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[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- My neighbor's laundry, n. Maine.) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Still asleep
(still asleep in bed)
[_ _]
Peaceful, just like real soft light
right before the full sunrise.
Like a slow touching warmth
on my bared shoulder
[_ underneath the sun -- _]
the heat of the morning
warming the roundness in
the curve of my arm.
[_ _]
You were there,
breathing slowly,
asleep. Your
[_ _]
butterfly eyelashes
fluttered at the
[_ window of your dreams -- _]
your thoughts humming
in some unknown sequence. I saw
[_ _]
you reach out to the warmth
with both arms
in a stretch towards
_the new light, your _
eyes still closed. But you
smiled
and rolled over
underneath a
mountainous snow-capped sheet.
[_ _]
The sun at your back
seems as if it should have
_convinced you _
(like a heated argument)
to rise and get busy.
[_ _]
The sun touched you
only once
before you tried
to awaken.
[_ _]
But you,
(you-fly-away-
bird-still-asleep-
in-bed)
closed your eyes
again.
[_ _]
Closed your eyes again, as if the light
had not bidden you,
[_ _]
had not begged
or beckoned
[_ your gentle attention -- _]
even hours ago
when you asked
the beginnings of the
daylight to let you go,
to let you go,
not to tempt your
[_ dreams -- _]
[_ _]
fluttering until
it had hopefully captured
_the cocoon of _
your sleep, wrapped
[_ tightly around you -- _]
and raised you up
[_for the tide of the day . . . _]
[_ _]
like the thousands
of things you
might have wanted to do.
[_ _]
_You would not _
_wake up, no, not _
for a song from me,
_nor for the stark _
light of the afternoon.
[_ _]
[_ [* *]_]
[_ _]
[_ _]
This same old fence
[_ _]
[_I saw a wheel turning _]
endlessly on the front lawn,
first to the right and then
to the left. then all the
way around to the north,
south, east and west,
in an indication of
which way
the wind was blowing.
[_ _]
[_ Far away -- over some _]
fields covered with old
barbed wire coiled near
[_ the ground -- _]
_I stepped over and _
past this same old
fence every day
on my way down to
the cold river with
the stones on the bottom.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[[
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Constantly reminding me
[_ _]
I miss the ocean.
Some sound constantly
reminds me in my sleep
(somehow I still fall asleep)
[_ _]
of the beach right across the road
from where I used to live.
_The houses looked plain. _
They were made of
white stucco with
rusty old scythe blades on the
_porches to cut away the _
[_ high grass -- which _]
hid sneaky cats
and mice
[_out in the front. _]
[_ _]
_But right now _
I was just thinking
that I would like
_a long walk _
past the high grass
onto that beach
across the road.
[_ _]
_The moon will _
be full tonight.
_Perhaps I could _
watch the waves wash
its lazy image up from the water,
to the sand and back again.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Dried paint
[_ _]
Chips of dried paint fell when a stiff frozen
brush slid off from the roof shingles.
There, among the knee-high weeds
was a nest on the ground made of
thread, cloth and twigs.
A starling splashed with
[_ gold ink was there also -- _]
looking like the dark-feathered
night sky as described in someone’s letter.
A corner of one of the pages lifted
by the strong wind coming
in from the sill fluttered. She
(the starling) often lands there on the sill to
look for the seed we put out for her.
_We lock the cats up _
.
I can smell
breakfast in the kitchen:
homemade bread baking
[_ at nine am -- somebody _]
put some hot tea
on.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
The bathhouse
[_ _]
I went to the beach today.
It was rather cold,
since it is close to winter
and summer is beginning
to travel through the shivering
ladies in bathing suits
on its way
[_ out, with no comfort -- _]
_making their bare feet _
shake on the icy sand,
walking on their way back
into the bathhouse.
[_ _]
The sandy shore feels like there must be
a wood infrastructure
[_ (like a frame or something) underneath it -- _]
constructed like the hull
of a boat.
[_ _]
There must be
underpinnings that are
hollow, holding up our
squeamish legs, the
chill of the changeling weather
hidden in the deep green
of the seas.
[_ _]
The water makes the
sound of a wish,
like the sound of a
weeping willow tree with
full brushing skirts
and long butter-knife leaves.
[[
]]
[[
]]
[* *]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- Santa Monica, California beach.) _]
[_ _]
Every little grain of sand
[_ _]
Every little grain
of sand on the dunes seemed as if it
[_ had been counted by me in passing -- _]
[_ so many times over -- that I can almost see time move _]
with the water, deeply underneath
the vast floor of the sea,
as if the ocean
was holding the seconds and the minutes
like an hourglass.
[_ _]
More than any other element
or mineral, the sea seems to
embrace the slow moving body
of the earth (how it moves, why it moves)
more slowly,
more tightly,
than even the stars and planets.
[_ _]
We might be carried along with the stars
like passengers in a donkey cart,
not believing in astrology, all waggling
[_ our heads in one big no -- but _]
getting to our destinations within
some notion of Orion, Leo,
Libra or Taurus.
[_ _]
[_ But it always seems as if time moves -- _]
only then,
only when the
ocean itself
moves.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[[
]]
The flowers in the dark
[_ _]
_The flowers in the dark _
and watching the shadows
over them.
[_ _]
It was warm that night.
We were going to walk over
to the park and share
a bottle of apple wine just
maybe to be alone the two of us watching
the flowers in the dark and the
shadows over them
at night drinking right
from the bottle.
The air seemed bright
and the park was
almost empty.
[_ _]
Getting drunk
underneath the moon.
[_ _]
Apple cider,
bells and acorn squash,
yellow underneath a yellow moon,
a watery yellow moon.
A yellow sunset,
pumpkins and copper bells
and acorn squash,
[_ _]
watching the drunken moon.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][[* *]_]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- bank of the Charles River, Harvard Square, Cambridge, MA.) _]
[_ _]
Shirayama (white mountain)
[_ _]
The weather is clear and
the sky clean like a
transparent blue mind that
intends something good for
[_ _]
the day.
[_ _]
Something good for the daily plan,
for the use of sunlight.
[_ _]
For the use of the daylight hours,
for the release of warmth or
the gathering coolness
in the clouding-over
of the evening.
[_ _]
What was intended
for the day is being released slowly
like the rising of the warmth
of the earth
into the cold
upper
air,
[_ _]
[_ _]
releasing the day,
traveling
the night realms
[_into the clear clean _]
transparent mind
[_ _]
that intends something good
for the daily plan uncharted
for the next
day,
and releasing that
like the rising coolness of the next day,
and the next.
[_ _]
All of it, everything,
releases itself like
the clear clean transparent
mind that rises forever
into something that leaves no
[_ _]
trace. This is the thing
[_ _]
that washed out the idea that everything was
[_ gained, recorded or abandoned -- that nothing except sitting _]
here, still, in a new daylight hour
makes any sense of any time lost.
[_ _]
_All of this _
happens without a past tense,
without a memory,
wiping off everything from that
blue-slate sky, washing it clean so that it
is an uncharted vision removing the sense
of any time at all, any time except that which
is constantly released, escaping before my eyes, up
out of my inner being, leaving only the stationary
reassurance that the transparent
[_ _]
clear clean mind of the sky is moving forward,
moving forward
in my mind.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
The ocean
[_ _]
The ocean curled up
like a cat on a blanket.
The water was warm and salty.
It tasted like seaweed,
pushing my diving body
up to the surface like
[_ _]
a sailing ship.
[_ _]
I swam to the next
_shore and ran up on the _
dunes,
[_ _]
wondering how to
climb to the top of the
lighthouse and look
_out over _
the sea.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
We went sailing
[_ _]
We went sailing,
chasing after the sunrise
in a small boat.
After a while we reached a shore.
The wind blew us
[_ _]
far away again later.
We went sailing
into the afternoon sun
and landed upon
a pink and white shore.
[_ _]
We rested,
sailed back a ways,
docked the boat
and swam home from there.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[[
]]
The shadows on the beach
[_ _]
The shadows on the beach
that summer cast
themselves
over the lap of the sand.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][[* *]_]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- n. Maine, one wild daisy bush in my back yard) _]
[_ _]
The flowers that were set on the table
[_ _]
The flowers that were set on the table
sat next to a glass.
I looked out the window and saw
the day
float by as if
it was not real,
as if you could not tell
the difference between clouds or air or water.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][[* *]_]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- creek in my town in n. Maine.) _]
[_ _]
A river: the story of the Buddha
[_ _]
_Underneath the ground _
there was a river flowing,
flowing to where I did not know.
I could feel it rumbling
_as I sat there. The earth _
moved, almost parted.
_It shook the rocks loose _
from where they lodged.
_It awoke me with the _
sound of rushing water.
_It forced its way above _
ground gushing into the clearing.
_It overflowed and _
created a lake. I could see
[_ _]
_trees in full bloom _
at the bottom of the lake. The
_birds flew up above _
the rising water. The animals:
_raccoon, fox, rabbits, _
bear and deer all ran safely to
_the higher ground around _
me. The rabbits and deer
_trembled. I trembled _
and held them as they came
_close to me. Sparrows _
and squirrel sat on my
_shoulders as we _
_watched the rushing waters. _
[You could see the *] [ *]
paths that were worn by others
_all the way down to the _
lower reaches of the woods underneath
the new water.
_These paths and trees were submerged, _
but I could see through the
_window of the lake _
clear to the bottom. The minks
_and wolverines hissed _
past us chasing field mice.
[_ _]
_I laid down again, sure _
that we were on high
_enough ground. The _
squirrels curled up on my
_stomach. I watched _
them rise and fall with each
_breath that I took. A _
river was created that ran
above ground crashing
[_over the rocks in its path. _]
[_ _]
_I was sitting quietly on _
top of a hill at the time.
_At the end of that summer, _
I climbed down from the hill.
_I ran to a stream to drink _
some water and looked
_at myself. I was thin and _
my shirt was in shreds.
_I could see the bones of _
my chest sticking out. I had
_felt no hunger, but the coming _
of the winter and
_the passing of summer _
made my lungs want to fill with
the last of the warm air and the
[_ _]
scent of growing things.
[_ _]
_Perhaps I had been _
asleep, but I know for sure
_that I had not moved _
from my seat underneath
_the tree where I had _
sat in repose for so many
months.
[_ _]
What had happened?
I do not know.
[_ _]
_Maybe I thought _
that the summer
_would last all year _
‘round. That it would be
warm until next year.
_I really did feel that _
I dreamed that I just
sat there all year.
That I didn’t want to move.
That I just wanted to stare at the sky.
[_ _]
_Oh, I know there _
was some reason,
_some reason for all _
of this to occur the way
[_that it did. I don’t know _]
maybe this continuous
flat inexpressible portrayal constructs the
_frame of some naked _
idea of beauty.
[_ _]
_Maybe beauty builds itself in nature _
like the two by fours
(four-cornered square windows)
_nailed into _
_the siding of the _
cabin that I wanted
to sustain me through the winter,
_just a chunk of carefully _
troweled cement
right now, really.
[_ _]
_My house now is still _
a bare tree that has begun to
_strip its leaves _
since the earlier seasons.
_My house is just an idea _
and a torn flannel shirt,
my bare shoulders
poking through.
[_ _]
_The snowing sky, _
the coming of
_winter _
over the valley
[_warns me. _]
[_ _]
Since the
underground river overflowed
onto the valley and
_flooded into the upper reaches _
of the woods creating
_a river, I have found some food and _
replenished myself.
[_ _]
I must have swam that lake
one million times through
the succeeding seasons
until my body became sleek
and taut.
[_ _]
I ran and found some discarded
clothing and put it on, and ran
further into and through the woods
until i came to a small town.
[_ _]
_I wandered around _
the main street
_of the town until _
I found a bench
_and sat down. Everyone _
knew of the flooded
_valley and asked me _
why I had stayed
there so long.
[_ _]
They offered me a job and
I accepted it. I was supposed
to use a two-wheeled truck
_and put merchandise _
on the shelves
of a department store. I said that
I had no clothes other than the ones
that I had on my back. They said that
that was all right and gave me some new ones.
_They also gave me a room. _
_They said I could come to work right _
away. I worked there during the winter, and left
saying that I would be back.
[_ _]
_I ran up to the woods _
and the lake and sat down
_underneath the tree _
that I had found before.
_I forgot about my job, _
my cash stuffed into
_my pocket and _
sat there for a few days.
Running down to the town,
[_ _]
_I worked again until _
_I could buy some land and _
build a house, a
_cabin really. It was near _
the lake which now
had fish in it.
_I grew vegetables in _
the back of the cabin:
_corn, squash, beans, greens, _
[_tomatoes and potatoes. _]
[_ _]
_I planted apples, _
plums and cherries.
_I would sit on the _
front porch I had built
_with the front door _
open and lean my chair
_back against _
the house, sitting around
not doing anything.
[_ _]
The lake was still there. [* *]
The squirrels, deer, mink
and fox
were still friendly.
[_ _]
_The squirrels would _
run into the house
_at night and sleep _
on my blanket, waking
_early in the morning _
and begging for food.
_They would curl _
up next to me and the deer
would approach the house too.
[_ _]
I went down to the lake again.
[_ _]
I watched the flooded valley
in the space between my feet.
I did not move.
The water was crystal clear.
[_ _]
The house/cabin was finished.
It had a wood stove for the colder weather.
I sat there for a very long time.
Suddenly I shivered, my shirt had torn
beyond recognition again. My collar
and a small patch of cloth
still hung over my shoulders.
How long had I sat there this time?
I sighed, oh well.
I stared at the water,
it was so beautiful
that I decided to take
a swim. I took off the remnants
of my shirt
and discarded them.
I jumped in the lake.
[_ _]
The water was icy cold.
My limbs were frozen.
I swam quickly to the other side
_of what used to be _
the edge of the valley
_and crawled out of _
the newly created lake
on my hands and knees.
[_ _]
The house I had built was
very close by, somewhere near the
edge of the new lake, but set back in
a clearing near the woods.
[_ _]
I slept by the side
[_of the lake naked, _]
letting the sun warm my back,
my unclothed shoulders
relaxed as I smiled
in my sleep.
[_ _]
_The seasons passed this way. _
When it grew cold, I went inside
my cabin.
[_ _]
The light of
_every season scorched me _
until my clothes again and again
_shredded in the rotting _
heat of the sun and my body felt
like the shards of a broken gourd,
a varnished broken gourd.
[_ _]
As I said, I walked back to
my usual tree from my new
cabin, which I had built myself,
with my own hands and sat down.
The lake was abundant for some reason,
even the forest had become
prolific. The wildlife fed from the
thickening of the trees. New thin trees
rooted reaching upward with large
heavy leaves, maybe only two or
three branches on the
saplings. There were more bear, but
they didn’t move me from where I sat.
_There the woods grew _
even thicker and cooler. I
sat until my hair grew long and
tangled, until I thought the
silence was all there was left of me,
until the surface of the water
had no reflection when I gazed into
its inner depths.
[_ _]
I ran, I swam, I could not remember
how long I sat there. My eyes would
wander, but my mind would form no
question. Sometimes I would look around me,
unthinking.
_I sat until I forgot _
about the new cabin which I had
bought with my job.
[_ _]
[_How that underground river had _]
_broken through _
the surface of the earth
to form a lake flooding the valley [* *]
_with water, I do not know. Where _
the fish and frogs and
turtles had come from, I do not
_know. Why I sat _
there for so long, I do not
_know. I became _
old and thin, but I was as
_strong as I was _
before I had begun to sit there, but I
did not understand why I did.
Why I sat there.
[_ _]
The underground river still flowed full
and relentless, refreshing…
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[
__]
[
__]
[_ (Photograph -- someone's feet, Harvard Square, Cambridge, MA.) _]
[_ _]
Three wishes
[_ _]
[_Three wishes: one _]
for September, one for
[_October. And then? _]
_Too cold in December for a wish. _
Then again,
If I had a wish I would fly to Los Angeles.
_I stayed here instead _
sliding on the ice
_like an empty toboggan, _
_watching _
[_slick-shoed businessmen _]
land bottom-side down.
[_ _]
I stood
_there panhandling, suggesting _
good restaurants, getting
_friendly towards the _
[*night café crowd at the *]
_Zen bookstore, _
_and telling stories _
[_ _]
[_and jokes to strangers. Thinking _]
_late at night, I said _
[_(enigmatically to myself _]
loving the late hour)
_as it started to snow again, _
“Once upon a time…”
(Like instead of a nightmare,
perhaps this was the beginning of
a fairy tale).
I sat down abruptly
_on the curb to rest _
before catching the bus.
[_ _]
_the snow turned into a blizzard and _
_I thought about the _
two hundred and
[_thirty some-odd _]
pages of stories I had
_written that were sitting _
[_in my locker at the shelter. _]
I wondered when the
_laundry would get done, _
how I would buy some
[_food, the whole thing. _]
I sat on the curb in
_the heavy snow for _
_just that exquisite _
_moment of not caring, _
_knowing that I would _
accomplish all of this,
_eventually. _
_For the freedom of _
[_ _]
just getting covered in snow, I
_raised my hands to feel _
_the snowy air in luxury, _
got up and walked home.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Once I wondered
[_ _]
[_ _]
Once I wondered,
a long time ago
about something very important:
I used to attract a wild bird to my hand.
[_ _]
I loved this wild swallow-tailed bird so dearly
that I called to it very often.
I cared for it and admired the
beauty it possessed.
[_ _]
I sat day after day and
wished that it would
come close to me again.
[_ _]
It always looked so soft, so gentle, that
when I was alone I would dream
of it. When I was asleep, I would
dream of it.
[_ _]
I would wander around
alone looking for it
every day.
[_ _]
At first my hand trembled as I would reach
towards it, and shook when I touched
its soft body.
It would flutter.
My heart would pound
violently in the apprehension
of sudden movement.
The wild bird was so gentle
that the both of us
had to wait until
I was without any nervousness at all,
until I was calm.
I remembered
the pain of my past,
it flew before my eyes until I perspired,
until my palms were
wet with sweat,
until beads of perspiration
and fear made my hands jerk
and my eyes tear.
[_ _]
I used to wish
that she would
be brave enough to
land in my hand despite
my uncertainty.
She began to land
on me in my sleep, and then
in my waking hours.
[_Gradually, my lack of self-assurance _]
subsided.
I also began to trust her,
to trust her deeply.
She also obviously trusted me.
She would fly
up to a branch and
sing over my head
so sweetly that I could
not possibly recognize the melody.
I could not find the repetition
or remember the intricacies
of the songs.
[_ _]
When I spoke to someone, she would
fly to my shoulder
and put her soft feathers
underneath my chin.
[_ _]
The winter was mild.
She remained outside
in the largest pine
and flew into my kitchen until the summer, when
she lead me down into the fields
filled with wheat berries
and rye grains.
[_ _]
She would swoop and dive
_among the waving swells of _
_bending, yielding stalks _
shaking the plump grains to the ground.
[_ _]
Ahhh!
The beauty she possessed.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ [* *]_]
[
__]
(Photo: buttercups in someone’s garden, Brighton, MA.)
[_ _]
Right around the corner
[_ _]
Right around the corner from where
you lived I saw a house with a lot of flowers in front.
I stopped and picked out one blossom
near the side of a pot,
although I shouldn’t have
and broke it off right down
towards the bottom of the stem.
Putting it up to my nose,
I smelled its fragrance as I walked away.
[[
]]
[[
]]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[_ _]
(Photograph – House of Blues, Harvard Square, Cambridge, MA)
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Friends
[_ _]
[_ _]
I. The Letter
[_ _]
I always wanted to write you a letter.
At least, one that might be answered in
the affirmative … with some information:
[_ the usual, etc. -- maybe with some pressed _]
_flowers in between the pages. _
Pages containing stories
of lives, paragraphs filled with enticing
imagery, sentences defining centuries or eons … just to
see the time line, the time pass and a more far-
_reaching perspective on _
what my vision of meaning
or essentiality might be in terms of waiting for
an answer. Yeah, whatever might exist
beyond my memories of that small town
ebb.
[_ _]
I always wanted to say certain things
in a letter like this. Of course, with
the rapid pace of my life I never do. But,
seeing you was fun.
And, of course, I could not go beyond
[_ what I have always been used to -- _]
to tell you that what I wanted from
your writing me was something I missed from,
_maybe, years ago. _
I was delighted to be back in town
again, but it seems I see too much in
small insignificant descriptions of
that one little place where I hide myself.
_And sometimes, I seem _
to write endlessly as if it was
_a form of travel, as if _
my hum-drum life could
hold a rationale that certainly could
explain the same old street, the same
old store fronts …
[_ _]
and the way you go to work
every morning.
[_ _]
You must still see me sitting there, laughing
_to myself, as I drink my _
chamomile tea, sneaking a
[_ glance like a cat half asleep -- _]
curled into itself,
used to that one warm contented spot on
the broken cane chair in your apartment.
[_ _]
_I sat at the place where you _
work in the mornings,
[_ waiting -- really, just daydreaming, _]
[_ humming to myself -- _]
indolent or having only half the
rationale
_you did … being employed there. _
[_I wasn’t buying anything _]
_much. You waited on tables _
and at the counter …
used to my presence by the window.
[_ _]
A placemat, the crockery on my table, silverware,
woven like the painting that you said
you liked … me married to a scenery three
thousand miles away on a flat-topped
mountain
near the grand canyon.
[_ _]
I thought I heard you whistle
and turned around the
[_ other day. You were not there -- _]
leaving me to stare blankly at my tea,
the road waving in a liquid blue line
on the inside of the cup.
Tomorrow you promised to
come back, filling your
work hours behind the
[_ counter -- where you laughed _]
_with your other friends, _
planning dinners and
holidays off at home:
_sleeping, reading your books _
and you still see things
as if they are not the
dull flow of whatever you must have
planned for the week.
[_ _]
Nice to hear from you.
Write when you can.
I might drop by again when I’m in town
and see if you’re still there.
here is my address …
call
if you can.
[_ _]
[_ _]
II. Coming Home
[_ _]
The last letter was sent from [* *]
Quebec, before that Fairbanks,
I wandered even further, coming
[_ back home later -- _]
in my passion to see
what had happened
since I had left.
[_ _]
The next day was Thursday,
and I arrived on the train at
_three pm. _
_In town for a while, _
_I walked over to the restaurant _
saying, “Hi!” with a smile.
Remembering something that I had
_left at your house _
six months ago I sent
_a friend to go and pick it up. _
Then changed my
_mind, running down _
the street after him.
[_ _]
“Never mind, I’ll get it tomorrow …
or whenever Sandy works again,” I said.
“I was thinking of moving back here
for a while …
I missed it.”
[_ _]
*The radio blasted Sheri Baby as *
I went over the
last letter.
“sweet dreams”
I wrote in the margin.
[_ [* *]_]
[_ _]
[_ ][[* *]_]
[
__]
[_ (Photograph -- motorcycle on Melrose Ave., Hollywood, CA.) _]
[_ _]
Waiting for the afternoon
[_ _]
[_ _]
It was
raining. It looked
like teardrops were
running down the windowpane
from the second floor,
like someone must have
[_ peered out -- pushing _]
their head past the
_sash and the windowsill _
in the middle of
_the day leaning over _
[_ the ledge -- watching _]
[_the sand-colored _]
sidewalk with intensity …
_Maybe they are forlorn, _
perhaps listening for
_someone to walk up _
to their door. It sure is
_raining again there is _
really no lonesome person
_upstairs, drenched with _
noontime, summertime
_wishes. It is just my friend _
Ellen who lives up there
_and she _
is already walking down the
stairs
ready to go shopping
_with an empty laminated _
bag on two
string handles
folded underneath her arm.
_A kid slams the front _
door to the building.
The rain stops.
[_ _]
[_ My radio droned on -- _]
_slipping and drying _
on the hoarse
_cry of a song about _
wandering roads like the
dusty flight of the
[_cycle-club routes _]
through Arizona,
[_high-riding through _]
to the dried paint
_curling up on the siding _
of my apartment building.
[_ _]
I spilled my tea this
_morning my elbow _
[_slipped, and now _]
the brown-edged stains hold
_rain in them. _
I had been chatting
and hanging on my
[_wide screen-less _]
ledge … half-sitting
[_ _]
on my chair, resting on one
leg folded up underneath
_my other leg, talking _
to a friend standing down
_on the sidewalk _
for a few seconds.
[_ _]
_I ran for the toast as _
she left and accidentally
_flung my cup _
splattering the tea down
the side of the house.
[_ _]
Ellen from upstairs must
_have come back. She _
_slammed the door _
too loud again. The
_rain has stopped for _
about twenty minutes now and
[_the sand-colored cement _]
has dry edges receding
like parchment. The water marks on
the windowpane got dusty
_as the sidewalk _
turned sun-colored
[_and mirage-like, _]
reflecting the heat
_like a mirror. _
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ ][[* *]_]
[
__]
(Photograph – Santa Monica beach, California.)
[[
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Dreamland
[_ _]
That same day I thought
I caught you hanging up on
the telephone, I bought you
_some flowers to tell you that I knew _
that that was you on the phone.
I didn’t want to be too subtle, or
too bold, but
_the flowers should _
have been larger better
prettier for you.
There wasn’t any letter in my box.
Today beyond dreaming I reached in
_and felt around the _
metal sides. The box
was empty except for a
few letters informing me of
_forthcoming sales. God _
[_I hope I’m not being a _]
_fool you know that probably _
wasn’t even you on the phone.
[_ _]
_My existence here in this _
town was also not too subtle
or too bold.
_I thought about my present _
life as if it was a small town
_ride down Sunset Boulevard, _
the Strip, or Melrose
Avenue: a frying
_hotplate along the sidewalk _
during the day in
_one hundred degree _
_temperatures, try starting _
at one hundred
and counting upwards.
[_ _]
_The sign for this _
_township used to look _
like it had two teeth missing
_and nothing to _
replace them with:
Hol ywo d.
Now they’ve fixed
_it. At least now it looks _
like somebody in this town had
[_some money. You’d think _]
they didn’t have the cash to
get the damn sign fixed.
[_ _]
_Smackdab in the middle of _
dreamland: Hollywood,
_California, movie capital of _
[_ the USA. -- Motown, _]
[_Capital records, everything – _]
I heard a knock
on my door. I ran in my slip
_scratching at my _
knees. I threw a robe
_over my shoulders _
reaching in the sleeves.
No one was there shit.
[_ _]
_That same day, that _
very same day I caught
[_you (or whoever it was) _]
hanging up on the telephone
[_and I bought you _]
_some flowers, embarrassing _
[myself enough to tell you *] [ *]
that I really could have
_used that call, I knew also _
[_that waiting for a friend _]
_to get in touch with me made _
me feel more positive than negative.
_Why would anyone call _
_anyone, even by accident, and not _
[_say anything? _]
[_Well, it didn’t matter _]
if that was you or not. Guess
_anyone could have used _
those flowers. I wouldn’t
_have minded keeping them _
for myself come to think of it.
[_ _]
I knew that I would eventually search
_my mailbox again and again, _
[_my telephone messages. _]
[_Nope, another day, nothing. _]
[_ _]
[_ Sunset Boulevard -- Motown, Capital records, _]
Paramount pictures
[_ -- everything. _]
[_ [* *]_]
*And here I am waiting *
around, all alone,
not too worried,
_dressed only in my _
slip in this infernal heat
[_ _]
_smackdab in the middle of dreamland … _
[_ _]
_Drives me nuts when people _
call on the phone and
_hang up without _
saying anything. That was
_probably UPS at my door _
too. Lucky me. Happens
_one more time and I think _
I’ll treat myself to a movie.
[_ _]
Think I deserve it after I
spent all that money on those
_flowers and went and embarrassed _
[myself all over the place. *] [ *]
[_Because now I don’t even think _]
_it was who I thought it was _
on the phone.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Two rooms
[_ _]
Two rooms,
quiet,
[_ _]
lit
candles.
[_ _]
A supper.
[_ _]
Life alone usually.
[_ _]
Staring out the
curtained window.
[_ _]
Going for a walk,
a long walk.
[_ _]
Not knowing where I
was going, just taking
a different way through
the woods and brushing
unfamiliar trees.
[_ _]
(from an ad in The Boston Herald:
20 acres. cabin. $30,000.
Access to brook.
Forested land.
Immed. sale/occupancy.)
[_ _]
(Alternative:
5 acres. $60 down. $60 mo.
$5,995 total price. Riverside County,
Los Angeles, California.
Must sell.)
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Visible underground
[_ _]
[_ _]
_Visible underground was a _
passageway that I often
_took when I needed the _
unknown source of
_the air there. Bats whistled _
through the endless
_caverns, hanging upside _
down in cocoons above
the dripping floor to ceiling stalactites
_making quartz from water _
and silica for a billion years in the past
_and into the future. Albino _
spiders crawled on the
_calcified walls. Blind _
albino fish swam in the
[_glass-like pools and lakes _]
in that country
_underneath the world above. _
There was a small
_hole in the ground that _
opened into the cavern.
_I stayed in there and _
tried to guess where the
air came from. No one knew.
[[
]]
[[
]]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Springtime
(Provincetown)
[_ _]
The hill was fresh and
green in the springtime.
Covered with snow in the
winter time, and falling
leaves in the autumn.
[_ _]
It made us think of
what might be beyond
the sudden sliding wedges of sand.
[_ _]
We walked further and found out
that beyond that were
more sand dunes
sliced by hollow reeds.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[* *]
[
_ _]
(Vintage car in San Diego, California.)
[_ _]
A long cold night
[_ _]
_A quiet ride in my old used Ford across the _
country: Louisiana bayous on the raised
[_ highway. Texas, Arizona near the border -- _]
pavement waving in the heat of the desert sun.
Losing a tire to the safety ruts on Interstate 10.
Sleeping in the cold at night in the back of the car.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- my forest in Oakfield, Maine, winter.) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
It was a dry winter
[_ _]
It was a dry winter.
It was not very cold either.
There had not been much rain that summer.
Even when
the night settled into a lazy dawn
sparkling in the sky with pink clouds
the weather remained warm enough
to run outside without a coat.
I looked at the pear tree we had planted
last summer. It still had the tag on it
from the store,
and was still too small.
[_ _]
Outside we could see the fog on our breath
in the very early morning.
I could see beyond this present time
to a time that might be a little easier
more …
how would you say?
[_ able to manage the elements -- an early California _]
winter morning could make up for a lot of things.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[_ (Photograph -- The vineyard in someone's front yard in Brighton, MA.) _]
[_ _]
Sweet corn
[_ _]
I sat there watching the
sunlight flicker in and out
of the window. The man
across the street grows a large
_vineyard with blue grapes. _
It takes up his whole entire front yard.
He has these huge (like really
gigantic) tomatoes the size of small cantaloupes
and a six foot sign that says:
NO TRESPASSING!
The cat from our house
sneaks into his garden.
This cat
destroyed all of our sweet corn
much to the consternation of a
lady in the house.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Laz-E-Girl
[_ _]
I slept almost all day until
four in the afternoon in the Laz-E-Boy
chair in the so-called “music room”
in a friend’s apartment feeling the
soft fabric with the underside of my toes.
I went grocery shopping and put the
produce in a used Rodier Paris bag.
Nice, huh?
[_ _]
I made corn bread with
fresh strawberry juice mashed
with a fork.
[_ _]
Tomorrow I will make corn
bread with overripe bananas.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
We have two plants in the house
[_ _]
We have two plants in the house.
One of them is a jade plant
and the other one is some kind of
ivy. The ivy plant looked
sort of wilted. That is, in need of some water.
I watered it and it perked up
considerably.
I put it in a prominent place in the
living room near a decorative tray
on an oblong table
underneath a print (a painting) of
two people dancing with each other
it looked much better there.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[
__]
[_ _]
[_ (Photograph -- guitar on East Wind Commune, Missouri in front of kitchen building.) _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
There’s someone downstairs playing a guitar
[_ _]
[_ _]
There’s someone downstairs playing
a guitar and singing.
Over my head I can feel the rustle of a
very tall tree. The sky looks like it should be
in Holland, the colors are that rare,
like Van Gogh has shoved a flat brush against
the pigments meant for a stovepipe or
the worn shape of some plaster
wall in his abode.
[_ _]
The singing has stopped.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
India tea
[_ _]
[_ _]
It rained when I was asleep.
I didn’t notice.
We scratched the newly sanded and varnished
floors and I searched for more wood finishing
materials to cover it up.
[_ _]
We made some India tea
and I hummed to myself,
When Sunny Gets Blue
just wondering about the
ferocious rain coming in all the windows
splattering on the floor.
[_ _]
Shut some of the windows and
mopped up the floor. I looked
at the puddles and the
gullies forming off the gutters.
[_ _]
The tea was a little too hot
to drink
so I let it cool.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
I heard a blue jay call
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
I heard a blue jay call
from a tree, as if the houses did
not come between us, as if she
was calling across some corn
[_ fields -- looking for her _]
nest.
[_ _]
I hope she found it.
I sure hope she found it.
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ _]
[_ [* *]_]
[_ _]
[_ _]
Apple Cider
Apple Cider is a poetry book of 48 poems & many original photographs. It is plain nature poetry & easy to read. It goes well with morning pastry and can be seen as a "Book of Days" or a journal, meant to be read slowly, one poem at a time, to taste. This book is a chronicle of the author's favorite things and places. Places such as: Santa Monica, California; the Florida Everglades; The Grand Canyon; Venice Beach, California; Hollywood and Harvard Yard. Come with her on her journey homeward. The Second Volume of Cathy Smith's Poetry Journal is "Wishes on the Edge of Time" and can be procured through Kindle. Many illustrative, original photographs...
- Author: Cathy Smith aka Sophia Watson aka Zara Brooks-Watson
- Published: 2016-05-01 23:20:24
- Words: 9760
