come to the redwoods
return to the redwoods
relentless roars from northern california
listen to ruby colored voices
murmuring whispers
in the background of our ears
an insistent humming
strophic songs
circling our brains
melting heart edges
come to the redwoods
return to the redwoods
remember the redwoods
we can't resist the call
when we arrive
we wonder why we left
we are dressed in silence
we are enveloped by ancient arms
remembering back through ice ages
knowing we are part of the universe
we are the universe
we have always been here
each and all of us
moving around the circumference of endless
such a joyful
blessing
to be awakened
by thin, radiant
sun strips
as they illuminate
the still, silent water of
Tomales Bay.
to watch the light
widen and
creep slowly
upon the dry November grass
follow the first morning fawn
as it cavorts upon the hardening ground
with a sense of security
not yet threatened by the day's dangers
the same fawn stands absolutely still
with
a tiny tail
twitch
as a companion comes from a far field
to sit together
doing nothing that is something
all this from the cottage window
where we give thanks
for being alive
for being with deer
for being hidden in
shadows
I am utterly terrified that something happened and we were born into life
soft summer breezes alarm me; they are the embryo of the North wind
i am terrified because silence is disappearing
the fact that civilization is only pomp is horrific
all the poems which have never been written terrify me
i haven't the courage to be swallowed by ocean waves
i cannot understand the beauty of flowers
i am terrified by the depth of love
i am distressed by my will to live
everything is contained in music including terror
it is shocking to think that hell might be worse than the New York subway
joy is the breath of life;pain hides at its center
i am perplexed by Man's invention of God
i am terrified by breath continuity
i am disturbed by libraries
we may be browsing in nonsense
i am terrified by the love which surrounds us
i am anguished because my father died without words
cities are terrifying when they exclude nature
my mother sucked senility before she slipped into death
everything can be translated into music
birdsong beauty is more natural than our voices
i am terrified because words don't mean anything and words are useless
i am disturbed by all the poems which have been written
none of us and none of this matters
i am worried that the beauty of children will die
i am terrified because people believe beauty
an enormous scream is hidden deeply within ourselves
i am terrified by God's invention of Man
it is distressing to feel the cosmos outside oneself
it is terrifying to live the universe inside oneself
that death may be a beginning is utterly intimidating
that death may be the end is utterly terrifying
Dorothy Death sent me
a lovely note yesterday,
"I'm going to visit with you
on Halloween evening at 11:15 PM.
I will bring a charming trio (accordion, guitar and bass)
so that we can tango.
Don't tell me that you can't tango;
anyone can if they concentrate.
If you can tango longer than I can
you'll buy some more living;
if not-------------------------"
Dorothy's cursive writing is quite singular;
it has some fancy curls and twists.
she must have been tutored by some nasty nuns
or some Jesus lovin' Jesuits.
i replied (in neat printing)
"Dear Dorothy,
how nice of you to think of me
no accordions please
i thought you knew me better
the definition of a gentleman is
someone who can play the accordion but doesn't
i suggest violin, guitar and bass
DON'T forget the vodka
the last time we danced
we downed a shot before stepping into each new number
wear those shiny, red shoes;they keep me awake
daniel"
anyone interested in watching
can come to the center of Holly Park
at the appointed hour.
Dorothy is quite stunning
i'm running inner tango tapes through my head constantly
rewinding and replaying the video of our magic dance
the end is purposely blurred
to obscure the identity of the winner
at twilight
magic is deepening
travel along the energy road
which is neither day nor night
which exists in
translucence
one can slip through
opaqueness
tiptoe upon winding violet floors
watch your shadows lengthen
until they are treetall
then you can step
from treetop to treetop
jump from shadow to shadow
roll and tumble along purpling branches
words have dripped down the tree trunks
into the roots
language is darkening silence
at twilight
magic is deepening
illness lies next to isolation
special needs are attended
caregivers smile paraphrase presumptions
return to computers
return to chattering patient stories
return to their private thoughts
flanks of nurses arrive and leave
clicking, hooting, whistling machines
lost in daytime roars
become night's musical sounds
hissing beyond wheezing
stroking past painscreams
returning home you become
the center of activity
everything is dropped
to attend howls
sleeping pills replace dreams and sex
pain killers are mistaken for love
away from you is where everyone goes to be normal
you are aware of all that is done for you
there is a hidden, secret circle where you don't exist
where you are seldom mentioned except in sadness
surrounded by people
you are solitary
you float within voices
hoping for self sanctuary
where you can bathe alone
where you can dress alone
where you can cook alone
as you once were
lying alone on a cliff
within ocean sounds
where only your soul knows you
absence dissolves pity
where only you know your soul
when you choose to seek it
everything disappears and then
reappears:
that almost gone,
unbelievable sunset, proving death
over the pacific ocean,
was exactly the same
when it sunk over
a civil war battlefield
when you look deeply
into your loved one's
eyes and see many
magic moments which filter
through centuries, you know
that both of you
are more than one
entity
if you allow yourself to dissolve into mist
to pulverize into dust
you will feel the essence of countless civilizations
you will feel the power of wind
which never stops blowing
how could any of us allow our existence
to span less than a century?
this would be a supreme energy waste
all of our thought patterns would sink
into the drain before eternal orchids bloomed
if you want to heal
from inside
slowly
deeply
open an ironing board
run your hands
along the edges
as if this is
your inner self
when the light comes on
you will hear a gurgle
a hiss
what shall you iron? a simple linen dish towel
is a good start
as you hold the iron
wait for the sputter to stop
there will be an even whoosh
like the mystery in Debussy
this is the signal to iron
the edges of the towel
open the weave allow it to feel its borders
this is like stroking the inside of your stomach
like feeling your leg muscles relax and flex
when the rhythm of the simple linens
enters your core
you are ready to understand
doilies
and the beautiful imperfection of crocheting
as you move the iron along the filigree
your eyes know that
the ornamentation
is different and similar
left side
right side
people driving on the other side
the ironing board
the magic carpet
caressing inner streams
Richard Clair wafted away
wafted away from his body
he's a good friend
a very good friend
how can you say that?
you barely know him
that's true
but it isn't true
he would sit for hours
using nowords
a wide uplifted smile on his face
then someone would say 'cycling'
his frame lit up like
$20,000 touring bikes
he spouted streams of words
collages of brand names
pastiches of famous bikers
after a jazz concert
he expected long, stretching silence
pockets of pure reverence
if you spoke he startled as though
you were interrupting replays of long, rhapsodic saxophone solos
walking away was a postlude; part of the entire episode
many times i stood next to him
after pouring the wine
no sounds---we were smelling
no touching--we were tasting
it was about the wine, we were present and unpresent
and then, political discussions when he would lie limp like a soft snake
waiting for a pause
skillfully he would slide in and never let go of his liberal rope
until you agreed or made everyone laugh
he hugged me so many times without the slightest hint of a touch
it was a long universal squeeze
as he tripled in size, enveloped me 'til i broke away to breathe
when he wafted away there were ringlets of floating lavender
Chet could be heard in the far off clouds
everyone waved and moved toward silence
2.
every time we say hello we hold each other tighter
every time we say hello our eyes are so much brighter
all the gods above us must be in the know
they think so little of us, we don't want to go
when you're near there's such an air of spring around us
we can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about us
there's no love song finer, don't modulate into a minor
every time we say hello
"i know those words but they're changed
oh my god! Ella will be furious."
"they've been changed a hundred times
she doesn't mind, she's a real lark."
"this is weird, i'm talking to a piece of cloud
a filmy strip of silver and yet i know i'm talking to Chet Baker."
"you are babe. you've listened to me so often
and you know how to listen.
you close your eyes. you sink into melody
you go where it goes, you know what it knows.
you know how many times you wanted to scat
scat with me now
Dick does Chet, Chet does Dick"
"but i can't scat, i don't know step one "
"you know all the steps
follow that long smooth road of my trumpet
keep the melody tucked into your soul
let it dance or skip wherever it wishes
Chet and Dick do every time, all the time,anytime---"
3.
to the center of the universe
when you wake, you reach for your ax
your ax is your instrument
your ladder to your soul
you may need some liquor
you may need some dope
you may smoke some weird things
as you climb the rope
we are all in deep meditation
Miles with his arrogant tone
Louis with his bursts of laughter
Ella with her silk and gold
it all sounds so easy
only if you're always there
Stephane has never stopped bowing
Morello mumbles to his drums
day and night, night and day
they are our ministers
and we often ignore them they are our lawmakers
they follow the sound of beauty
in their glow is the word
the movement
the vision if we can touch it
and hold it
and feel it
we can wrap ourselves in it
and only say hello
never goodbye
only hello never goodbye
only hello only hello only hello
no rain was falling
no raindrops
were falling
no words were falling
only letters were falling
consonants and vowels
colliding
a continual buzz
which sounded almost like
inside out Esperanto
like Polish pushed through
a Chinese translator
her black umbrella
shielded her from letters
words were unthinkable
her face was full of sadness
she couldn't move
her clothes stood still
her hands clasped the handle
it was silent under the umbrella
she melted into meditation
she waited for a word
a special word that would begin
a shining word that would end
