Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Busy Days

—Poems by William S. Gainer, Grass Valley and 
Photos by Robert Lee Haycock, Antioch



SPRING—BUSY DAYS

Saw the squirrel
walking across
the shed roof.
I waved.
He looked busy,
too busy
to wave back.

____________________

ADMIRING A MEMORY

Out on the porch
we keep a flower pot
with a little patch of grass
growing in it.
No, not that stuff,
the kind kids play on.
Every once in a while
I take the shears
and give it a mow…
spend a little time
cleaning up
the mess,
stand out in the drive
and admire my work.

____________________

CHAIRS TO-GO

Saw a guy
walking downtown
carrying a chair
a kitchen chair
he was carrying it
like a surfboard,
except with legs
you know...
I imagine
he's ordering them,
the chairs
one at a time
To-Go...

___________________

WITH THE LITTLE THINGS

I wish my legs were longer,
my back didn’t hurt
so much
and the dogs
would be quiet
when I asked them.

With the first list
I asked for
money, fame and women.
It didn’t happen that way.

So let’s just
let it go—
the wishes:

Let the back ache
when bending
for a found dime,
the dogs bark
when the postman delivers
and the neighbor lady
keep waving
when she’s on the porch—
sunning.

We’ll leave the wishes
to the little things
that’s where they seem
to be found—
with the little things.





SEVEN PLACES TO GO IN YOUR SLEEP

To find the monsters,
see if they need
help.

Her bed,
to smell her pillow
hope she feels the breeze
of your breath…
wonder if she’ll remember you
in the morning.

To the cliff where everyone falls,
be the first to push the curious,
lie about who did it…

A new-mowed lawn,
look for the dead in the cutting,
beetles, worms, lizards, snakes,
a toad maybe.
Ask why their lives didn’t count.

The place where blind dogs live
and see things you wouldn’t believe
thank them for barking
in the odd moments.

To where heroes go,
where they have a name for you,
but it’s secret, it means more than god.
You get to have a sword, a saber, a wand,
a pistol.
And whatever hat you wear,
fits.
A place where evil knows your voice
and trembles…

To the Hall of Good—
where wishes get answered.
Where the Commissioner
knows your list,
says, “This is a good one.
We’ll do it first…”

Seven places,
there are more, lots more
but these are the ones
that call
my name
when sleep
needs a friend…

____________________

HUSHED IN LONELINESS

All my life
all I've ever wanted
was to be like you...
You'll never know
how hard a heart aches
trying to make that happen
knowing it never will...

Some of us go years
without the feeling
then it comes,
one day—
every day
relentless
one word
from one person
driving you back to the child
who spent the long hours
alone
watching a cold world
through
a cracked window
knowing all time does
is push
all you want
farther away...

The ones like me
have learned to hold back
knowing each day,
each push
makes the reaching
for the pistol
that much easier…
but we don’t.

Others are able to let go
become hushed in their loneliness.
Others
get lost in empty dreams
wander beyond rescue,
melt in hurt
until time calls
no more—

and you
one of the beautiful,
harbored in privilege
keeping the gates secure
declare
no harm
done—

_____________________

Today's LittleNip:

AMERICA US

Indians,
Mexicans,
black, white,
something else,
just kids...
don't make them
something
they have to be
let them become
something
they want to be...
let them be us...
one of us...
America...

____________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Bill Gainer and to Robert Lee Haycock for today's sumptuous fare! And a reminder that Bill will be hosting a Red Alice's Poetry Emporium reading at Shine tonight featuring Cynthia Linville and Kelly Freeman plus open mic. That's 14th & E Sts., Sac., 8pm. Be there!



[Click on photos once to enlarge]