All one; revolving.
Part One
1.
Circling ‘round,
The idea,
Revolving, All One--
It’s falling,
through Autumn
”Create something
Of that broken scene,” he said
remaking--
The Sunflower Altar,
A vine circling over Paumanok island.
The minotaur carting the relics
mumbling, “Something about a tourist...”
tracing another arc,
Crispin journey--
Jaunt to the south
Refreshment,
in air, through season
Identity with the Sun
Shading into night-- sea drift
THOU ORB ALOFT!
Sun smeared cycle,
turning to icy self
Original dream,
A place one could
Surround one’s self with, vision
2.
A Broken cubist style , as if
there was anything else
Between polarity--
Opening on the new, world
Dreamed in winter of city snow
the sun is setting
The great hero taking leave
We go on about this death
Scrawl a tragedian testament
The sky is not moved
The story goes on
expanding beyond edge
Ordeal of landscape, my new poem
Is old poem-- over a repetition
Gaining still some sense
Of a self
In the cycling,
color was ironic after all--
Sun and snow.
Spiraling space into apocalypse.
Exaggerated to bird cartoon,
Fragmented circle, the images clattering
Revolving, climb-- fall back,
into black, and shade
Comic sublime, story.
3.
Waterfall to ocean wave,
The clouds Mount,
Maybe everything together
The video flicker,
passing in car,
cold crystal sun
Folk-- like tale, the myth
Of opposites in Tragic comedy,
Spring against black memory
Clearing space,
Creating, turning
Staked out and tortured,
The politic
Over the hill, anyway--
we go on
Everyday thing,
a nagging notion
Jays scattering, divine wind--
Clatter
The great distance-- falling,
All in pieces
The blank,
Hiroshige, Hiroshima
Dive bombing birds, spirit wind
Just afraid of the pain,
4.
just tired now--
No please, not today
Revolved into one
Shards falling
In slow motion
The pieces ending
In ripple waves,
Sound of dead man,
No man
bibble of sorts--
BROKEN BIRDS
The leaves growing
In cracks
The villa’s webs and broken windows
The melting snow,
faint sun in March
That red object
Organizing everything,
Modern relics?
“Oh Yeah, the nature thing--”
stumbling upon
That polluted lagoon
On the tropical isle
Bombed out looking hotel
Hurricane wind,
5.
Images upon images
Turtles and mint shading
Reflecting patterns in sand
beneath
The water surface,
Modern angled shape--
broken,
Plain to folk--
But POP!
A child off crying--
A third world
in the corner
Pressures of complexity,
The Imagination
Is simple--
Minded Carnival
the lights over Mexican town--
Reverberating then blown--
To palm rustle
Surf sound, vivid mango
Orange--
Simple without ulterior motive
Oriole whistle! It calls, I call
It whistles, I call-- it whistles back
Orange headed god--
6.
Ruffling its feathers and swoops--
turtle gliding--
Stepping aside
Black pile of rags on city grate
Keeping warm-- though flying
nowhere
Flapping in the wind, robes
Between elation and despair
Dark stars above,
Fate streaming
Distance
Another journey in spring-- time
Gray green, yearly couplet
outward movement--
South
and western direction
Nature, whatever--
It’s out there
Out there, equated with--in here
The plain truth and we plunder
rationalize we feel pain,
We die, We die
I continue
For that bird
Sunday painter indeed!
7.
Then this guy
forever taking off
A flower in his teeth
We were all singing for freedom
Red and yellow--
Mountain blue
She led the crowd in her rags
She railed against credit
What ever happened to that
honored PEACE?
Clatter of cymbal
crash and squawk
New religion, Howl-- ling
All one-- Church, I guess
And falls
Hitler, I guess and falls
Wooden church-- and falls
Phone rings,
a note under the door
Everything changed--
New direction, being out there
I believe as I am poor--
“I’m the last
Romantic of a busted civilization”
A tin can shot out for beans.
8.
A shape of mind
Present secret self
too much to bare
All of these things
will happen to me--
One day at a time
Whose God?
Something older in the deep air
In here,
seen out there
No way to see this as true?
just to immerse myself in this
Beyond, above?
A little and then--
Down-- fallen state
Of fiction turning
That building hid
those lunar phases
Repeating rhythms
And in climax of moment--
Conscious imaginative MOMENT
Stop!
WE TRIUMPH!
ALL ONE--
That at once feeling-- falling
9.
It wasn’t like
We had mastered the figurative
Mode and were moving on to the abstract
a certain color shape and line--
On my death bed
An image to abstract
Form-- no right image, true
Still to go back,
to check a blue
Giotto’s blue,
Red in the Mysteries
Bang!
Clap of hands-- at the surface
Springing to moment
and BLOOM of
Summer height
Pleasure that changes
Existing self of that moment
Breathing in and out
weeping bare foot
Something happens
Ordering, remembering
Happening,
testing feelings
Against this wall
10.
Adventure was newly formed
Cycle of water and mountain--
falls, and stream
Emptying to desert
Reaches-- final sea
End of distances
no end but no end but no end
Distilled form tossed to air
A knowledge
Tossed to air
A knowledge older
brought forward
Thrown up-- yearly trip
Which one will find me at the end
I take it in stride
Finishing touches on
the paintings
Want to go back--
You can’t go back
The lagoon, the walk about
Snake song and Fairy path-- there
Blue man in reeds
against the sun’s setting
Heron call--
Another notch tightened
