Saturday, April 02, 2016

Roller Coaster

Medusa Coaster, Six Flags Discovery Kingdom
Vallejo, CA

—D.R. Wagner, Locke CA
(some of these were first published in A Book For Barb,
  published by Undermine Press, Berkeley, CA)

  you think because
  there is a yellow
  in your hair i do not
  know you
  but i know
  you from the way
  it presses itself
  against you
  and is
           believing it
              does not know me


  I move slowly
  so that I light
  up my glass
  with my own
  and will not
  be surprised
  if I should
  one day walk
  off the edge
  of this world.

    They would have us
         This is a wall.
  and place themselves in the web
  so many crushed stars
                 unwaxed moons
                          we would be afraid
                          to put our hands into
                          the leftover water
  for fear of creating toads
  or fish without diamonds
                                for eyes
  deer roam outside my house
  now / i see you moving across
            the room removing cages
                                            old ropes
  this atmosphere/

        I think I am going
  to continue this architecture
  using my lips to touch
  yr pillow / with tiny bells
  behind my eyes / with plays
  of lights dancing / with words
  that band and wait
  for you to see me.
  She is alone
  except for
  a waterglass
  and a failing
  she feels my
  love grow
  inside her
  its words
  lamed beside
  this waterglass
  this failing
  This new night
  I gather in my
  hands   shatters
  into breath candles
  when you bring
  me fireflies
  telling me
  they are stars
  and build jeweled
  cities where flowers
  are fine houses, where
  people are all

  in the morning
  I will bring you bread,
  Wash yr wounds, comb
  Back yr tangled hair.
  This night cannot be
  so proud forever.
                               No place to think work
                                                     —Gary Snyder

  first late dinner
  then walk six miles to
  out of town
  into car headlights
  almost falling on basalt
  and limestone chunks
              cross the road
  hitch hike—no ride
  asleep under bridge
  near stream
                 awake at
  before dawn
  car tires
  night sounds
                         I am not Basho

  Your lips
  froze wind.
  I asked:
  how is tonight.
  no answer only
  a smile and all
  night high mountains
  in yr hair.
    As we are standing
  from each other's doors
  we can speak inside sleep
  as floors to water of music.
  Oh this light clear I wear
  is your lips splashed to fill
  the world.  I walk in bare feet
  no longer tired from the sounds
  of being god inside you.
                       I am this morning.
                       This morning
                       you become me.


Today's LittleNip:

—Medusa, with thanks to D.R. Wagner for today's fine poems—hoping his email returns—and enjoying these anonymous photos of the Medusa roller coaster ride in Six Flags in Vallejo (there's one in Mexico, too.) Scroll down to the red Webilicious feature in the green box at the right for a bit of a you-tube rollycoaster ride!

April 2: Day Two of National Poetry Month