Friday, December 07, 2012

Jellyfish in a Vast Ocean

Birds on a Wire, Camino
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA

Posted on the sky
a body of culled shapes
drifts as long sighs
you read a folk tale
along the tall grass
from sepia heights
of words, mien, imagination
to excite the world.

Here a poet by sea voices
rests long sleeves
on the dunes
entangled in shadows
with Grimm's glasses
on leafy eyes
watching circled birds
overhead with omens
following every myth
and tale logged in nature.


—B.Z. Niditch

We're jellyfish
in a vast ocean coast
west to east
dangerous water flows
through November
we're on deck
slow dancing
for sky writers
wanting to paint us
all different 
over rippling rushes
of undercurrent colors
on subterranean space
near time zones
of your lure and lore.


—B.Z. Niditch

This kid brother
of a friend
I saw on a park bench
by Boston Common
in the Sixties
and mooching off
his girlfriend
which I did not dig
but had indignation
because the woman
deserved better
and liked to hear me
play sax
as the couple became
flower children
and moved out
to Frisco
and I became
in a sense a Beat
and received a letter
from the woman
who sang folk songs
in a club with Joan Baez
saying she had to leave
the guy
who once beat her up
for drugs
and I sent her money
to return
because I worked hard
to earn money
for music lessons
after school
in an ice cream factory
with rubber boots
under my feet
full of water,
the guy had to go
to Nam
and was missing in action
she shortly married
a musician in my band
and last week end
invited me to play
in a gig
when memory
was no fault in my life
and she told the audience
in song and parable
about me.

 Placerville Window
—Photo by Katy Brown

—B.Z. Niditch

Some sunshine
when November leaves you
alone at the edge
of the blue lake
by the Savoy jazz club
where you nibble
on memories
of playing sax
when the sound system
rarely worked
and arpeggio notes
return near the swallows
when half of your life
was letting managers
choose what
they want to hear
and you playing along
so you can eat
and have another gig
in the Latin Quarter
when so tired
without the energy
though being twenty
when breath burning
for a new reed
of reddish lips
caused me to blush
from the shore daisies
I brought my first love
during rehearsal.


VOYAGE DAY, NOV. 11, 2012
—B.Z. Niditch

Shadows flee
our box kite
in the shape
of a monarch butterfly
taking off from the sand
up from Singing Beach
touching the dazzled
wet sky
new life enters me
by the seaweed rocks
in the piratical breeze
as a heavy wind flies
near my sail boat
which clings to me
under the human-shaped
black sun
drawing on the anchors,
losing my appearance
underneath wavering tides
for a quick swim
concealing my form
as in a mirror
thrashing on sulfur water
on this voyage day
of increasing waves
beating against my body
as I watch six swans
in the slippery lure
pass by us
as the late sunset
covers our reflections

—B.Z. Niditch

Near the shore
of the Atlantic
a poet reels in an eel
on his fishing rod
and he wouldn't leave me
until a big Sicilian man
eager for a Sunday meal
helped me remove
the body of an eel
stuffing the creature
in a straw basket
when time hangs out
on a cold November day
with the cold breath
of harsh waves
nearly washed over me
and the bearded man
invited the poet to dinner.


Today's LittleNip:

A dazzling poem opens our eyes to sharing deep insight.

—B.Z. Niditch



—Photo by Katy Brown