A Chinese lacquered bowl

from this week in July, 2011  (I was 66)

A Chinese lacquered bowl

         passes from one to another

old men with bony hands

         from which they measure

spoonfuls of white sugar

         She enters with swift grace

a blur of perfume

         the blue porcelain teapot

blowing plumes of steam

         From the veranda she hears

water slapped onto the dry stone

         and she imagines the dark boys

smelling of hair oil and talc

         beaching their boat on the rocks

in the deep black under the trees

         stirring an unmeasurable sweetness

Professional Care

July 30, 1970  (I was 25)

         Professional Care

Report all exclusions, transgressions and intrusions.

Replace that used for your transfusions.

Refrain from fried foods,

but retain sense abilities for future use.

Don’t drink fortified juice of any kind.

When you speak, be sublime

and you’ll be fine if you take one yellow pill

and a blue four times a day.  Still

you’d better see me next week

and I’ll peek down your throat

examine the sclerotic coat of your eyes-

just to be sure, you understand.  I’d be surprised

if the condition doesn’t completely dissipate.

At any rate, there’s no need to worry.

We’re in no hurry.  All the tests have shown

it hasn’t grown and couldn’t possibly be malignant.

The pain is psychosomatic, purely a figment

of your imagination.  Listen, I’ve got to be at the station

by four o’clock.  I lecture your case tonight,

and I’ve got to arrive for dinner at five.

Oh, and you probably shouldn’t drive.

Get some rest; try not to get depressed,

be thankful you’re alive.

And remember, if you don’t feel great

in a couple of weeks we can operate.

Leaving Keauhou

July 29, 1990  (I was 45)

         Leaving Keauhou

In the end there is rush and sadness

a reluctance to accept the movement of change

This has been a place of high energy

a locale of elemental significance

an absorbing occupation of ocean

fiery air rock and rainbow forest

an insistent inquiry of birds

We were given this

I know those who live here

must turn much of it into work to earn it

I hear the lava crushers

dodge traffic of rental cars from condos

see ads for Wicked Wahine Perfume

I‘ve eaten mango ono at the lavish luau

There is so much we will take some now

return to fill our plate again

and to acknowledge our debt

…from the continuing Ballad of Johnny Mesabi

…from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

From a distance he re-listened to the call

Of a high school announcer in the fall

Remembered cheers from many a game

He tried to make them shout his name

                          

Johnny decided to lay down the pen

Put on some athletic shoes again

Play the course walk the trail

Breathe a little wind into the sail

Knockwood dogwood lines southern rough

Gonna needa golf shot to show your stuff

Johnny gonna lay up Johnny gonna go

Slap it in the fairway watch yourself grow

Johnny Mesabi fire at the pins

Use every swing to wipe out sins

Just play the course not fellow players

Work to find the center under the layers

*a series from journals 2001-2005

The brief times I’ve done day labor

July 27, 2014  (I was 69)

The brief times I’ve done day labor

I was underpaid unless hired by a relative

and soon I learned to labor relative to the pay

If you bought my time to bore me

I accepted because I thought the job needed doing

If the work benefited only you

I never took the contract

Never found anyone who could afford me

Teaching was never like that

I often did it for nothing

and that was everything

…from the continuing Ballad of Johnny Mesabi

…from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

Johnny irresponsibly chose responsibility

When all he’d studied was tranquility

Johnny Mesabi suspected who he was

Played his instinct against his flaws

Johnny Mesabi dreamer without direction

Lost his grip on the family connection

What you’re born to is only tenuous

Holding together can be too strenuous

If at first you don’t succeed…

Working Johnny a man in need

Tried again to stumble through the dance

Took more’n luck to get another chance

Character actor of professional polish

Continuing roles but somewhat smallish

Played teachers and fathers in retakes

And bothered to feature new mistakes

*a series from journals 2001-2005

Dinner at Jackie Reys

July 25, 2006  (I was 61)

         Dinner at Jackie Reys

Another great dinner in a restaurant of price

If you can afford it retirement is nice

I can remember being happy to have rice

And a few vegetables to stir fry

was too a great dinner no lie

Keep a perspective don’t cry

I hope you have time to make it work

a chance to rise above the mire and murk

or else the option to go berserk

A fraction of satisfaction is fact

July 24, 2014  (I was 69)

A fraction of satisfaction is fact

tis a syllabic fracture of an action

an act that’s a type of truth

a faction of veracity I sat on

until it hatched here

What Can I Say, Read Bottle Imp First

from this week in July, 2006 (I was 61)

What Can I Say, Read Bottle Imp First

So now I have a Bright House

upon a hillside somewhat north of Hononau

Where Stevenson’s Keawe had his

Though Hibiscus Halè is less lavish

with a veranda but three quarters round

and fewer toys within

still it brings me joy to share with my Kokua

and it was not purchased from the bottle

with wishes expressed to the imp

It is nevertheless luxurious enough

by most standards of the world

to challenge the righteousness of ownership

It seems to want to share itself

in a hot land often coveted by personal greed

the contagious cause of the Chinese Evil

that spreads to devour all it touches

an isolation of complete abandon

unless one gives back in the spirit of Kokua

Misunderstanding your soft shape

July 22, 1971  (I was 26)

Misunderstanding your soft shape

under thin summer blanket stirring

and the delicate murmuring dream

into which I so easily slipped beside you,

my smoothest hand

drifted across the cover of your possible curves.

I believed the cooling lie

of my warmth against your thigh

and breathed your rhythms in colored currents

flowing from each sigh.

Then as the first bird called warning

into some distant morning,

you turned to deeper sleep

and I turned to philosophy,

hand stroking cheek unshaved this week.

…from the continuing Ballad of Johnny Mesabi

…from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

On the path of least resistance

Smooth downhill takes less persistence

Johnny soon knew his life’s station

Was to be one of pre-occupation

Johnny Mesabi stayed out of his war

Began to knock on perception’s door

Giggled in 3-D saw the bones of his wrist

Tumble into place as he gave it a twist

Johnny Mesabi hard alloy of iron

Forged in that cold steel environ

A skillfully crafted durable tool

Educated to shape a facet of our jewel

Inefficiently he read really good books

(How appetizing really good food looks)

Devised lessons in creative exploration

Tasty dishes of linguistic sensation

a series from journals 2001-2005

…from the continuing Ballad of Johnny Mesabi

…from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

Johnny Mesabi was raised on The Range

Left twice to avoid being strange

When you leave people warn ya

“You’ll never stay in California”

But leave often enough and you will

Johnny did and he’s livin’ there still

You gotta settle where you feel strong

Then you can stay where you belong

Johnny Mesabi headed for the freeway

The Golden State gives ya the leeway

Disney Yosemite summer of love

Where the hawk flies the same sky’s the dove

Johnny engaged in the politics of hair

Taught in suburbs but couldn’t buy there

Started a family with less skill than luck

Planted rhymes so he wouldn’t get stuck

*a series from journals 2001-2005

The poetry of urgency

from this week in 1973 (I was 28)

The poetry of urgency

lives in an instant

flashes one life

in a single metaphor

at a singular moment;

a quick breath

at high altitude

in a land of no second choice.

…from the continuing Ballad of Johnny Mesabi

…from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

Johnny Mesabi child of ice

If he liked it once he did it twice

Knew if he exhaled he’d soon be old

Johnny Mesabi sucked in the cold

In the winter ya paid and paid hard

For summer escapes out of the yard

Deep in his head he always knew

Jumpin’ the fence’s the only thing to do

Blue lake pinewoods skate around the rink

Hollywood premier stars in mink

Back to the ore dump for a keg of beer

And on to Berkeley to tap a mystic seer

*a series from journals 2001-2005

That man climbed his mountain

July 17, 1971 (I was 26)

That man climbed his mountain

with a prayer for a pack

and the peak rising in his eye.

He walked easily, rested where he sat.

On the first night he exhaled poison

resolved to be reborn every moment

and gravitated toward universal sleep.

Ascending winds of space cooled his feet,

rose with him up cold stones

to unconscious climbs,

each step exhaling past moment,

each moment a frozen blossom.

And as he breathed his sacred hum

under stars bursting from pulsing darkness,

the third day dawned on the summit

hot to melt his tingling skin.

Echoes of his roaring essence

entreated admission for his presence.

And as he viewed the peaks below

the mountain let him go,

finest powder with wind and snow.

That man’s gold

July 16, 1974  (I was 29)

       That man’s gold

All the nuggets collected by that man

as a form of insurance

a security against prospective boredom

and held in a leather lung

a breath away from a fear of suffocation

All these he carried back into the mountains

to be replanted one by one or sprinkled in the current

His comfort grew and his joy flashed downstream

A Few Notes on Tropical Birds

July 15, 2012  (I was 67)

   A Few Notes on Tropical Birds

In the prattle of the palms

above the general cheep and chatter

one bird says Achoo Achoo

or It’s you It’s you

You know what the rooster says

Another bird rants can’t can’t can’t

so dove does do do do

Two converse  Did you weld it up

I welded it up  Did you weld it up

I welded it up  Third says Well did

Did you see what Cerise eats

She eats cheese she eats

More specific listening delineates the general

into subtle individuality

Branches make me itch itch itch

A whole weeks worth of work if we stay

Eat eighty-three seeds eighty-three

Geeeeeze  Geeeeeze

Walk the talk walk the talk

delicious but all so repetitious

Oh for the love-a Oh for the love-a lava

Tom Taken

July 14, 1971  (I was 26)

         Tom Taken

Cross-legged on the porch at dusk

surrounded by trees and even the sky is green

Just now got the point of a blunt joint

A jay informs me and leaves

air so soft I don’t know whether it’s wind

or trailing breath of an extended limb

Mosquitoes shoot up on my arm and ankle

Randomly I kill them or let them bite and fly stoned

Kaleidoscope of leaves and vestigial branches

Calliope of dogs music and laughter in the canyon

Meditative melt from shadow play to star show

I’m perplexed and I just don’t know

how the rest of us just go on with the flow

after you’ve gone  And all of us still

taking you along

Medicine man mind your apothecary

from this week in July, 1970  (I was 25)

Medicine man mind your apothecary

your manners are atrocious;

your father knew better,

respect.

He’d never leave a customer

to stand unattended in some corner of the store

without so much as a good morning

or how can I help you today.

And you could see him mix the potions

and package them himself.

And you point, “Top shelf, middle of aisle D.”

When you left the store in the old days

it was known who was sick and what he had,

and you felt better

because the prescription was for someone,

even while he was preparing it.

Where the hell is aisle D anyway?

Yes.

You did feel better, and another thing,

small to you maybe-

you use these imprinted slick bags.

Your father used green paper

tied with string that came up through a hole in the counter.

Secure,

a package recognizable on the street.

A dollar seventy-three,

God, it used to be forty-nine cents.

Nobody calls you Medicine Man either,

do they.

We all called your father that.

Apothecary-

that sounded mediciney.

Pharmacist.

Sounds like a farm worker. 

Did you get my change right?

Oh, and don’t forget the Green Stamps.

Thistle Club

July 12, 1999  (I was 54)

Thistle Club

         We were ready to play at 7:30 a.m. but it poured rain, so we

skipped our tee time and waited it out for a couple hours.  As soon as it

stopped, they got us out .  We played 27 holes without a drop. 

         Thistle is a beautiful fun course, particularly for one only open about

four months.  Much water and marsh and more bridges than I’ve seen on a course.  We played the middle of five sets of tees to a slope of 126.  The

track began mildly with short par fours, fairly easy water crossings, and avoidable  traps that guided you toward more optimal locations.

         Sections were a bit raw, but planted with colorful flowers and varieties

of blooming thistle. Later holes were longer and tougher.  The bent greens

were large and well-tended.  They rolled smooth and true, increasingly quick

as they dried.

         It will be interesting to compare them to the superb bent greens at

Surf Club later in the week.  I played well (83), so of course I liked the place,

but it got favorable comments from the both foursomes. 

         The staff was courteous and helpful, and the food was reasonable. 

This is a great addition to the Myrtle Beach Strand (actually in North Carolina).  It will be a continued favorite for future trips, I’m sure.  They loaded our vans

and attached complimentary bag tags.  It will be a pleasure to promote

the place to friends.   

Dumping on Kailua

July 11, 2010  (I was 65)

                           Dumping on Kailua

         A sign on the path I’ve walked daily says, LITTERING, but the red

circle and the slash mark have weathered away, so now people take it

literally.  The next stretch of ground along the mountain is a garbage

heap, one hundred yards of indigenous Big Island crap:  lawn chairs,

broken toys, clothes and shoes, furniture, a Chinese decorated box, two shattered toilets, and a dead goat disintegrating under a split bag of lye,

lots of dirty blue junk with hibiscus flower designs, a mattress, tires -you

name the size.

         So, in the last two days since I decided I had to note this aspect

of Hawaiian life, across the gulch from the goat, someone has deposited

the carcass, or at least the rib cage of another bloody beast without the

courtesy of the bag of lye.  Anyway, this one’s covered with a half dozen gnawing mongoose.  Brings to mind Melville’s Redburn.  And added just

today, a 6’ satellite dish, the base and mooring, replete with dangling

cables.  Apparently, there’s just not enough good TV out here in paradise.

Rough Riders

July 10, 2006  (I was 61)

     Rough Riders

They were oh so stoic

and acknowledged no pain

When shot numerous times

instead begged pardon

for causing inconvenience

Or openly walking the front lines

spun dead from a bullet to the mouth

while professing invincibility

confirming a manhood

first won killing bloodthirsty Apaches

deranging criminals as Texas Rangers

ridding the plains of buffalo

quarterbacking Yale

crewing with Columbia

or serving as assistant secretary of the navy

They fought alongside and proudly

with warrior survivors they called native Americans

and blacks who could follow but could not lead

and ore prospectors with no prospects

for any adventure better than this one

now that domestic adventure

had been fenced into reservations

Government banned the vigilante at home

but eagerly employed the mercenary abroad

contour writing

from this week in July, 2012  (I was 67)

   contour writing

The controls give the pilot

something to fiddle with as the

computer flies the plane  They

are connected directly to the

pilot’s assumptions  Pull back on the stick

the plane seems to ascend

Push right and you can bank on it

The computer reads your mind

and convinces you you’ve done

exactly the right thing when

you do nothing at all  Multi

tasking you call it

Casino del La Selva, Cuernavaca

July 8, 1988  (I was 43)

Casino del La Selva, Cuernavaca

Lomatil antibiotics Pepto Bismol sixteen hours sleep

Trips to the toilet and sink become more infrequent

This didn’t used to happen

but it is difficult to maintain past splendors

The concrete Aztec pyramid at the pool has chipped paint

It is missing a few tiles and some sculptures are damaged

The Diego Rivera murals are faded

Still everything is authentic in old Mexico

Antiquity gets bigger everyday

Old plumbing is subject to occasional leakage

Restoration is impossible

replacement changes the character

and authenticity is the goal of our age.

My wife and I

July 7, 1976  (I was 31)

My wife and I

On the Fourth of July

walked the lawns of Hibbing High

And read its plaques

commemorating wars for the ball of wax

then walked up 7^th Ave. past Blessed Sac.

We hit 25^th I think we were smilin’

about the store clerk who corrected me

and showed me their one album by Dy-lan.

That man manipulates Maya

July 5, 1971  (I was 26)

That man manipulates Maya,

melts mistakes into his father’s generation,

makes his moment diminutive

by beginning today, tomorrow’s glory

or celebrating it’s promise

“This is the first day

of the rest of my life!”

Future paths are easily focused,

perspectives lay themselves out like blueprints.

The problem with illusion

has always been its lack of confusion.

From Lot to Dylan the advice is the same,

but that man doesn’t like being here

because he can’t remember how he came.

The only Everest we ever climb

from this week in July 2012  (I was 67)

The only Everest we ever climb

is the most upset when we try

so hard we hardly breathe

sometimes we forget to

The finer the work the more

subtle the artistry required

dexterity beyond competence

The language for it expressive

finesse nimble versatility

and an inclination to do

out of thin air resourcefulness

of the source called forth

to strengthen our grip on the vertical path

Independence

July 4, 2006  (I was 61)

Independence

we say we celebrate

but no longer as historic commemoration

We like England

We celebrate independence

from the court of world opinion

independence from global concerns

never letting them impinge upon national desire

(I too hold with those who favor fire)

A godly greed within us burns

The inferno is our dominion

We celebrate independence

England likes us

but they resist colonization

Celebrate we say

Independence