Friday, January 25, 2019

Thursday, January 24, 2019

JONAS MEKAS ~

J O N A S M E K A S

1922 ~ 2019

R E A D M E

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

The Government Lake

BY JAMES TATE

The way to the toy store was blocked by a fallen tree

in the road. There was a policeman directing traffic down a

side street. I asked him, “What happened?” He said, “Lightning

in the night.” I took the turn and drove down the street

looking for a way to turn back. Other streets were blocked by

fallen trees, and I couldn’t find a way back to the toy store.

I kept driving and soon I was on the outskirts of town. I

got on a highway and drove, soon forgetting the toy store and

what I was supposed to get there. I drove on as if I was hypno-

tized, not noticing the signs for turnoffs. I must have driven

a couple of hours before I woke up, then I took the next exit

and had no idea where I was. I drove down a straight tree-lined

lane with farm houses on either side. There was a lake at the

end of the lane. I pulled over and parked. I got out and

started walking. There were several docks along the shore.

I walked out on one and watched the ducks swimming and diving.

There was something bobbing in the middle of the lake. I stared

at it for a long time before I realized it was a man’s head.

Then, a moment later, it was a coconut. No, it was an old tire

floating right side up. I gave up and started following the

ducks. They would suddenly fly up and circle the lake and

come down and splash land again. It was quite entertaining.

A man walked up behind me and said, “This government lake is

off-limits to the public. You’ll have to leave.” I said,

“I didn’t know it was a government lake. Why should it be

off-limits?” He said, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave.”

“I don’t even know where I am,” I said. “You’ll still have

to leave,” he said. “What about that man out there?” I said,

pointing to the tire. “He’s dead,” he said. “No, he’s not.

I just saw him move his arm,” I said. He removed his pistol from

his holster and fired a shot. “Now he’s dead,” he said.

Source: Poetry (January 2019)

___________________________

JAMES TATE

The Government Lake

(Ecco, July 2019)

Tuesday, January 22, 2019

Monday, January 21, 2019

HEAVEN LAKE (17) ~

After Work

Long day for us both

Field work hot sun

Resting later on

Taking off your boots for you

Then your socks

I can’t stop

More

walking out

from her bath

one lasting

water drop

between those

eyes

Folk Song

It was a Sunday morning

When we decided to chase

The freight train flat on the

New Mexican plain —

Straight and longly forever

It seemed like the barren

Road we were on, rails

Running parallel, sun

Rising, three locomotives

Strong — we all galloped —

And when we reached

Ahead and to a bend in the

Road we stopped and ran out

As close as we dared and

Almost better than the

Sight of the train itself

Felt the earth shake at

Its approach up and down

Like a planetary drum

This shooting star comes

Thundering over the rise —

A good man knowing a

Good thing when he sees

It waves to us with two

Blasts of his train whistle

Quivering and heart-filling

Like the best folk song

Housekeeping

what bedspread

what blanket

what cloth I

have watched her

hand spread smooth

with an elegance

felt

on my-

self

——————————

Bob Arnold

Heaven Lake

Longhouse 2018

Sunday, January 20, 2019

KICKING HORSE PASS (RR) ~

Susan and I traveled this route in 1979

Saturday, January 19, 2019

Considering the Snail

BY THOM GUNN

The snail pushes through a green

night, for the grass is heavy

with water and meets over

the bright path he makes, where rain

has darkened the earth’s dark. He

moves in a wood of desire,

pale antlers barely stirring

as he hunts. I cannot tell

what power is at work, drenched there

with purpose, knowing nothing.

What is a snail’s fury? All

I think is that if later

I parted the blades above

the tunnel and saw the thin

trail of broken white across

litter, I would never have

imagined the slow passion

to that deliberate progress.

________________________

New Selected Poems

Thom Gunn

edited and with an excellent

introduction by Clive Wilmer

Farrar Straus Giroux 2018

Friday, January 18, 2019

Thursday, January 17, 2019

MARY OLIVER ~

The Old Poets of China

Wherever I am, the world comes after me.

It offers me its busyness, it does not believe

that I do not want it. Now I understand

why the old poets of China went so far and high

into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

_____________________________

Mary Oliver

1935 - 2019

PHILIP LAMANTIA ~

C A P L E S

O N

L A M A N T I A

Wave Books

2018

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Permission

You left me to re-attach myself

Carefully and only partly to someone else

While you finished your fling

With fast cars, married women, cocaine,

magic, and deception.

Now you begin a new life

With a young strong lady

To whom you give fidelity,

Honesty, and clean living.

Thanks.

Lust

I long to give this body —

Not to science, not to the fire,

I long to be given, whole

For the fish in the sea to nibble away.

I long to be buried, naked,

Under the earth, to be returned to the earth.

I want to be placed high,

On an altar made of sticks, for the birds,

For the birds of prey to feed on,

For the sun to whiten my bones.

I long, long to join myself

Back, back into all that life

From which I came.

I long, long to feed life directly.

A Chinese Painting

The stairs,

Up the mountain,

Are delicately, barely visible.

A chicken looks at

A butterfly looking at . . .

I think of Issa.

Images

Creeley

yields

Images

As satisfying

As pulling

Out potatoes.

—————————————

Joanna McClure
CATCHING LIGHT
Collected poems
North Atlantic Books
2013