Friday, May 18, 2012

Knowing When to Fly

Peacock Flying

—Tom Goff, Carmichael

When you dance
you’re silence.
Silence me.

Fling your hush.
That’s you, love.

I expect
no less. Now
dance allspice.


You make love
from nothing.

She thought her
love only
just so much.

Now look where
you, she, take
it. Love—all.


Circle me,
brunette fire!
All around.

What gives? You
really love
me? So close,

so warm, and
me so held
back. Tongue-tied.


—David Iribarne, Sacramento

Mother make it all stop
make the shrieks, the screams vanish
make peace present in my life.

Allow me to remember without wanting to stop
Carry me through the rough spots
anchor me to the good times
let me mull there for a while
without stumbling so quickly to the rocks and cracks.

Tell me a story about when he would hold me
tightly, making me feel loved
where he sang to me with love
and the words were his own.

Is there a time he comforted me?
A time he made me fall asleep in his arms?
When my heart did not skip a beat
when I heard him creek into the house?

Mother, Make it all stop
even if you have to continue to lie.


—Caschwa, Sacramento

In debt we trust

Good for all gods
Public or private

(If I was given a penny for
every poem I thought of writing,
I would have a big hole in my pocket
And quite a few poems not worth citing.)

Small business
Big, bigger, mega
Take out loans
On their receivables

From small-time
To high rollers
Borrow money to fund
Sure-fire winnings

Local, state, federal
Make out checks
On anticipated revenue

Bright students
High achievers
College bound
Are awarded scholarships
Toward their imminent success

Land, natural resources
All forms of money
Gobbled up
Gobbled up anew

The chaparral
Is on fire again
Most life will perish
New life will rise despite these odds
And call itself the smart money 


Inspired by Medusa's "questions that keep coming back and back…" [See May 10 post.]


My dear home town
The Heart of Screenland
Depict and portray
Repeat it every day
Use lots and lots of props

Here history was reinvented
Huge rocks became mere sand
Depict and portray
Repeat it every day
Use lots and lots of props

Karl, Rush, and movie buffs
Beg us all to understand
Depict and portray
Repeat it every day
Use lots and lots of props

Golliwogs and epithets
Have gotten out of hand
Depict and portray
Repeat it every day
Use lots and lots of props


There’s shocking pink
Phosphorescent yellow
Emerald green
Radiant red
Lots of choices…

So why, when someone
Loses their temper
Do they resort to the
Tamest of tame
Almost blasé color

And have a tantrum?


Today's LittleNip:

How do geese know when to fly to the sun? Who tells them the seasons? How do we humans know when it is time to move on? As with the migrant birds, so surely with us, there is a voice within, if only we would listen to it, that tells us certainly when to go forth into the unknown.

—Elizabeth Kübler-Ross


Thanks to today's poets, and thanks to Katy Brown for finding us these spectacular photos of flying peacocks. Like many things on the 'Net, though, they were, sadly, uncredited.