Like a Forest of Rain

—Poems by Michael H. Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
—Anonymous Photos
 

THE RED TIDE OFF THE GULF OF MEXICO, FLORIDA

The colors of the ocean
turquoise with bits of pickled sky blue,
and a blend of grape juice purple—
and then, its skin ruptures,
a sudden rash red and boiling,
a lesion bleeding rotten blood.

 A Forest in a Single Raindrop
 

A LEK, A LIE

of landscapes of leks and booming tantrums
leaders
of
racist
lies

leaders
of
paper
tigers
leaders
of landscapes of leks and booming tantrums

DEAREST DEBORAH

Sometimes behind a curtain,
An antique closet with a hundred pieces of gold
Or a young man carving Jatoba wood into frames
Or monarch butterflies, milkweed, and healthy hair.   
And behind the door, a simplicity of sound.
And in this room, the sweet sweat of huckleberry juice.
I cannot choose enough of any of these.
I can choose you, like a forest of rain.

Never is it enough to seek a clean place
Freshly imprinted with the small of your foot,
Decorated with the easy touch of your fingerprints,
And all of the breath in my world
Has this need to be knotted with
All of the breath in yours.

Will crab grass grow stronger after the storm?
This part is not in me. I can
Build a porch, change a fitting,
Lay out a pallet of down. This is in me.
I can quilt a blanket,
Tune the strings of my kora,
Find a place to be with you forever.
And later, when you come upon me late,
It will not matter what came before.
I am in luck because of you.

HOUSEHOLDS IN BLOCKS OF CONCRETE

In the room of misappropriation,
a brand new crib leans into a striped wall
blue and pink—we know not boy/girl—
Is sex so important?—
nor do we wish for dried out, dying, dead.
Only living will do, not parchment,
ice, a limp fall of the head.
Alive, nothing else—a blanket,
yes, a blanket not gray, mottled,
dull steel, bar grimed, prison blocks off-white,
tombstone slate. Blue.
Pink. We will even welcome stripes.

Today’s LittleNip:

AFTER THE TORNADO
—Michael H. Brownstein

Curious how, after a blast from the sky
tears walls from the world,
the morning sky a tranquil blue, the wind
a lover’s sigh, openings everywhere
full of mulberries and fresh cut grass.

____________________

Thank you, Michael Brownstein, for your poems today, both stormy and sweet! For sounds of rain and wind in the forest, go to www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhWJF9FlBqM/.

Today from 12:30pm-2pm, it’s drop-off day at Sac. Poetry Center for broadsides celebrating Broad Way: Sac. Poetry Center’s 40th Anniversary. Or drop them off tomorrow, 1:30-3pm. Info: www.facebook.com/events/667799753741655/.

Tonight, 7-9pm, check out Renegade Literati multi-genre series in Sacramento, with musician Gerry Pineda, Poet Brynn Saito, Visual Artist Lin Fei, Fiction Writer Vanessa Hua. That’s at Sac. City Hall, 915 I St. (enter from H St.). 

And also tonight at 7pm, Speak Up: The Art of Storytelling and Poetry features stories and poetry on the subject, "Harvest" at The Avid Reader, 1945 Broadway, Sac. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa, celebrating the sharp storms and sweet juice of poetry!

 We will even welcome stripes…
—Anonymous Artwork

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.