Friday, January 31, 2020

Dream Time

                                                                     

Last night
I tried my best
to kill myself.

I was in a brightly lit gymnasium
empty except for a cot, a stool,
and a white coffee mug.

I drank whatever
was in the white mug
laid down on the cot
slipped away and came back.

A stronger dose was needed
so I got up, walked over to the stool
and drank out of the same white cup
expecting a “better” result.

The second time I came to
counselors – older women in black –
had arrived and were talking amongst themselves.

A friend

(ask and I’ll tell, otherwise protecting the innocent)

ushered me out of the gym
and into his pickup.

He drove me to a gun shop
to try an ice-cream sundae
made out of snakes.

He was sure that
would
          snap me out of it.

Maybe it did.


RW
Guanajuato, Mex
01.29.2020

(photo:  storenvy.com)





Wednesday, January 29, 2020

GUANAJUATO 2



for Fer Garcia

A world tree
growing from
deepest soil

reaches down
through blood
and minerals

reaches
into
bodies

kings
priests
invaders
artists
miners
workers

more than
we will ever
know

reaches up
through all the same

uniting

sentient eons with light years.

We lean against
centuries of stone
as eagle & serpent
scream dance ignite the air
crash against iron bells.

The cantador
softens the night
with lovers’ memories.

RW
Guanajuato, Mes
01.24.202

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

GUANAJUATO


       

          


(for Ana Cervantes)

Guanajuato
rests on silver & blood

Ancient and stone buildings
hold it in place

In the plaza
small explosions
remind us we’re awake

bell tones fly like darts
prompting souls back to
Christ’s heart and the Virgins womb

In all the Churches of Ancient Voices

          (las Iglesias de Voces Antiguas)

prayers are like smoke
rising into the baroque
gilding ceilings and walls

Grandmothers’ know
it’s breath that matters
because breath will carry them away

If Guanajuato could weep
pastels would flow
as streams and waterfalls

streets would run rainbows

We would drink color
and to spite heaven
we would be happy on earth.

RW
GTO, Mex
01.18.2020





DREAD




Dread has taken up residence
in my never placid imagination

as if the next conflagration
were coming for me and I’m running
from dream-terror getting nowhere.

At my trial
the jury box is packed
with kangaroos, koalas
and crippled veterans of foreign wars

my defense’s mouth is sealed
with that ever useful petroleum product

duct tape

melting into her throat.

The charge is Ecocide
our greatest absurdity

the garden we’ve made into a shit-hole has become a fire pit

and we’re stockpiling

batteries
bullets
and bibles.

Oh say can you see clearly now the day has come bursting air red glare tattered cloth inverted hung out to dry in the Australian bush that’s everywhere.

Think nothing of it
follow the boss over the cliff
there might be a job down there

Dread is shorting my circuits

we should all be pissing our pants.


RW
Guanajuato, Mex
01.05.2020

(photo:  unattibuted)




CALAMITY HOWLER





The storms
on the wine-dark
were as nothing
to the currents
that coursed through her.

Red is what she saw

curtains
carpets
and
cloaks.

Red was the song
and sound of her voice

Red was the shout
that raised no alarms

Red was the blood
from their wounds

Agamemnon
and his calamity-howler
curseÍ´d Cassandra.

RW
Guanajuato, Mexico
01.02.2020

(A friend asked that we pick from a list of antiquated or little used words, and write a poem.  I chose calamity-howler.)







Monday, January 20, 2020

SURROUNDED BY THE SACRED

 

SURROUNDED BY THE SACRED


When I was a kid
if you dropped a prayer book
you had to kiss it after you picked it up

I feel that way
about most any book

          well, not Mein Kampf, say

                    but any work charged
                    with the love of writing
                    or of making
         
          The Joy of Cooking, say.

The sacred can be so embarrassing

          not so much when we are alone
         
          more so in polite company
          where a fervent

                    Thank God, or even
                              Oh my goodness

          might be viewed as quaint

and where a sign of the cross

          (Christian or Elemental)

would be thought deranged.

We’re surrounded
by the sacred

All Life – All Living

Why would that be embarrassing?


You are the blossom
the
hummingbird
visits

sacred

If you fell
I’d pick you up

and if you’d like

I’d kiss you.


RW
Guanajuato, Mex
Martin Luther King Day
01.20.2002

(I have no financial interest in the novica website.)

Tuesday, January 14, 2020

THEY LIE ABOUT EVERYTHING

(State Dinner with the Aussies)

THEY LIE ABOUT EVERYTHING

of course they do

they lie
and they lie
about their lies.


***

One fine evening

checks signed
and sent

Gentlemen and Ladies
tuxedoed and gowned

warmed by quiet conversation

dine under chandeliers

at artfully negotiated tables
in carefully selected seats

accompanied
by the delicate sound
of cutlery and crystal.

After
having been
wined and dined
they lean
shoulder-to-shoulder

stupefied and dozing.

***

A podium and microphone
rise from the floor

unexpected feedback
rips the room awake

a tuxedo taps the mic
and introduces another
to polite applause

the featured tuxedo
sounds an incantation

swirls and arabesques
of lies fill the air

precious gifts
rarest minerals
oil and dollars

conquest
power
respect

the guests thrill
to their histories

and the tuxedo ends
with the greatest lie

the lie
that brings them to their feet
and pulls sound from their bellies

the lie
that they are

alive.


RW
GTO, Mex.
01.13.2020