Joined: 25 Mar 2008
Posts: 4
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Into the Words of The Poet
I come into
His words, his words
are (our) music
(&) land!
People are leaving
the cities?
Crazy.
I’m going
bird
Not lying like to
fly.
I came down
belly pressed the desert
I came down
Over San Gabriel
She had the lights on
For my arrival
(5/4 time)
& She smiled
As she loves you…
As you love her…
embrace you into her
child home
It is that simple,
don’t trust Me.—
Trust his words- they
are (our) music
have rhythm & melody.
(People are leaving the city)
Crazy.
I am coming in
In to his inflections Of
unloading bus reboarding
Off beat in the middle
for the breath / rebirth
here and not there yet
people are leaving,
not breathing.
Crazy.
I am coming in.
I am
“shaking dreams from my hair”
the wind
will fill the valley
15 ° east
& warmer inland.
Combing hair with palm
dry grain of Santa Ana balm
Full with words
are (our) music
Downtown
foods dance in chains
between traffic
hand in hand scents
whirl beat to beat
his melodies contain
hungry people.
You read it as
His words
are fleet
feet balancing on curb-
sides stepping over cracks
in pavement stones
that sparkle.
His words
you read as
shoulder brushing
parking meters keeping
time between them
marking phrase breath
posting rhyme
In His
melodies of lip
you see reflections
in shop window
what is moving stopping
what is wanting
to articulate
window shopping
In his measures of pause
skid jet contrails
penciled sketches crossing out
accompaniments to the program
of morning news stand
canons
On the beach
we hear everything
15 ° cooler at the edges
The Ocean
slaps everything we say back
our ensemble of wheels
arcade gears & laughter
To All musicians
We who make sound
Not because The Ocean
doesn’t dig it mind you
The Ocean
sings to us not
the other way around
Huge / a baritone, I think
where the city meets the ocean
Greatness, isn’t it
His words
are (our) music
where the city meets the ocean
People out-going leaving?
Crazy. Like the waves
I am coming in. |
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