Monthly Archives: March 2017

Sunshine Morning

She sits by the flowers
woman, of the fence line window
.view thru the vase,
waist
line button _ belly flush to the sink
.petal Trimmings, bottom of steel
paint peeling from the old lane lumber.

bicycle leans on the post
sock feet _ wreath anklet
crown at the deadline
sun.
get on your bike and leave
hips that push the thoughts
of watching from behind.

-gravel runway, shoulder length grain
or hay…

it doesn’t matter-

hands resting around steel top ledge,
body _ still, still at the sink and dreaming
.does heaven exist after
9am?
Anklet crown on pedal –
daydream existence _ reality
bare bicycle, cycling
golden grain away.

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Epic Life

i was a virgin before i met you
.not sex – i mean,
hardly knew who Al Pacino was.
Odalisque with gold beads running down
-Cleopatra her backside taunting Marcus Antonius.

i needed to catch up on life
witness Niagara Falls 3 times in 1 year
a 20 year absence,
(and I was only 21 at the time.)

now

Now babe

you turn me on
.as tho our life were a B movie epic-
King Kong greatness,
Indiana Jones and the Arc,
pulp magazine, before Lawrence knew how to Block
or Stark finally admitted, he was Westlake.

my ukulele has a plastic shark.
i’m not afraid of the Hawaiian ocean
,blue-
Goodfellas – has some meaning
Pacino isn’t a roaring lunatic.

you’re the adventure i’ve always been in search of-
fuck money – we’ve never had it – don’t know
that we ever will. we don’t need to be the Jones’s with 1.5
and a car,
i’m Macgyver with a jeep,
and you make me find ways
,be a better man.

i’m striving – help your dreams
become a reality
,same way you’ve made me a man
,understanding what he’s
looking at – what he needs.

i was a virgin before i met you.
a poet who didn’t know how to do much more
,crap out words and think they were greatness-
hunter in the woods, tracking down snow white,
(still listening to today’s best country.)

.
.
.

Babe

keep pushing me….
,secret pen names,
red velvet curtain parting, before the
countdown, the reel ticking-
the fedora hitting the coat rack

rain jacket tossed, hurriedly
,back couch.
 


Inside My Mind

there is always art. in the search of it.
the interested party rather than the interesting – one.
beyond the landmasses  connected by a bridge
-Schiele before the war – Colville witnessed afterwards.

there is the refrigerator. the bedroom
womanhood for a day celebrated
‘but the boys are coming home and you need a rest Rosie’.
-sing for us on stage. don’t move – this is England.

there is always art. and i search for you.
the woman whose mind is more interesting
and our conversations can go all night.
-if i only i could paint – but drawing letters exposes you….

do not move from the sunlit window’ – (my own quote)

there is always art. in the search of it.
student before the student
master of the generations studying one another
homage to the teacher.

lettered pictures…..you…..not on the wall
but in my hand….

* Schiele before the war – Colville witnessed afterwards:

Egon Schiele; 12 June 1890 – 31 October 1918 was an Austrian painter who created THE BRIDGE an oil painting in 1913

Alex Colville: 24 August 1920 – 16 July 2013 was a Canadian painter who created THE NIJMEGEN BRIDGE while on tour as war artist with the Canadian Military during WW2 in Holland

*there is the refrigerator. the bedroom

Alex Colville painting entitled REFRIGERATOR 1977

Egon Schiele painting entitled BEDROOM – which is very similar to the Vincent Van Gogh painting of the same title

* ‘But the boys are coming home and you need rest Rosie:

Rosie the Riveter is a cultural icon of the United States, representing the American women who worked in factories and shipyards during World War II until the end when they were laid off to allow the men to go back to work

*sing for us on stage. don’t move – this is England:

The Windmill Theatre in London was  a variety and revue theatre. The Windmill remains best known for its nude tableaux vivants, which began in 1932 and lasted until its reversion to a cinema in 1964.