down a ravine
past old bottles, to a cigar box with photos
under a blue tree goes my dream
1.
i'm on the sax
wild beginner in the lonesome tones,
fire moon escape, torn smelly tee
2.
she pushes a baby in a carriage
near the dock and i know, turning over
it's not hers
3.
Marlon and Sidney lean in,
muscles tensing
as King goes for glory to the east
4.
Monk coming off the stage
at the Five Spot
filled with dancing to Coltrane
5.
Miz as Joplin, the immolate face
talking so good, fun as a new car,
then dark at home, going in
6.
my country feels old to me
6.5
we're making decisions
we shouldn't
we're not that old
6.7
and feels like
we'd rather not remember
things we've said
7.
8.
i'm trying to be less verbal
so people get the whole package
9.
i bought my dictionary
because it had anomie, possibly my favorite;
inert is also good, and languor
with its need unseen, til the tongue slicks out
10.
give me the headlines--
i'll do the stories
11.
it is hard to oppose anything
not allowing motionless seeing
with a heart strong, from conditioning
12.
light or dark thoughts appear,
spears of Intuit traced and flung,
the light unending
13.
the elevator doesn't stop here
14.
i am happy in myself
knowing what i'm doing
is what we're doing
15.
the heron tossed a fish
too large to eat
and tossed it until i had to go
he tossed a reverent delicious chunk
of a big fish he didn't catch
and that's what he could do
16.
of all things it's not focus or reverie
but distraction
likely to cause brilliant succeeding
17.
In prismatic sun i sat
when a fellow approached and said
"I'm sorry, you'll have to move along sir."
Then "Oh, you look like my neighbor,
but you're not. You can stay."
As he left a man seated near,
crisp shirt polished shoes phone on belt said
"Doesn't know his neighbor very well does he."
The arc of the encounter, in every little movie
17.2
has scrolling credits.
18.
greyhounds race early then are profusely over
but make fine poets, once they adjust
from track life to home rule.
i realize i'm getting one.
19.
i love: being tall & getting older
20.
a lesser mind
could lose control or a greater one
21.
there are concerns which mollify
and concerns
of equal pressure which terrify
you have a choice. thank you for shopping here
22.
a wasp has flown into my glass and perished
on a breezy day in october
with beauty laid up around here as ache.
i'm adding ice.
you must honor what dies on you
23.
waking briefly from remembering
how Rudy saved
the rubber bands from broccoli
24.
i make pasta con broccoli and eat
all of it, swooning
the phone rings, Rudy on a boat job
in NJ; i let the machine take it
giving delight its meal
24.7
it's key to make enough for two
whether you dine alone or with serpents
as Poseidon did
then devour with salt beard and spear
your myths
25.
i do hope you see this art
as the slightly fevered aspect
of love imbued, held by charm
and trips to bountiful
25. 8
you do, don't you?
26.
you know when you're not the author of your face,
taking pens to stay up late, rewriting furiously
calling makeup
27.
uh-huh all right,
don't stop
28.
working up on the wind
like what it is, clutching windward
along the soundings
of ono~mato~poetic sailing
29.
dream omens seen:
girl running with her dogs, twice;
hawk dropping down to the yard slowly
from the side, like its kill beckoned
30.
Karina from Russia
her perfume, her funny smile,
engrossed engorged organza
31.
my collections include Dan
with the big fender out, crooked look
as i slowed near his boat at sunset,
coming back in
32.
a new bridge over the river
in my hometown is named for an Irishman
who died leading a charge in Pennsylvania
To die, leading a charge.
33.
here's to my collaborators:
Neil, GK, Lowell (not Bob, George), Ray and Richard:
a. the honey slide
b. chunking stovewood in Vermont, gutturally
c. sliding the socket down the Fender
d. writing all night after mopping the hospital
e. shooting holes in the kitchen in a tight pattern, near the clock
the glint of sun on the crow's wings,
vultures pulling the deer's airy gut
looking at her too long,
the hope of her friendliness
elusive, clouded
34.
poems can be shimmery
on the edge of knowing
with any lick, or luck
35.
i've been writing
when the wind lifts the edge of my awning
and the heron jumps onto the dock,
fish in mouth, feathers torn and happy
36.
today is cool and my heart shivers
in the metallic air; witches
on bendy brooms swoop to see
what they'll haunt tonight,
cackly with moley hair
37.
what do you need?
a question more often weighed
like dope than answered,
yet i would venture
a deep glamorous skinny biker
to love my ass off
38.
yesterday, early, i flared with anger,
calling poor service by its name
it was dreamy when my nature returned,
feeling us all laughing
eyes big with forgiving
39.
i favor being abstract
neck romancer Arthur Miller dancer
seeing Bill and Tess sailing naked from Eastern Bay,
Bill with electrogizmos for NASA, Tess from IKEA with spare usefulness
so i could take that division:
IKEA
NASA
and make my own utility
40.
it's not fair
everybody knows
you can't love me that much
41.
the squirrel stood straight up
in the road, dead as bread
when i cleared him at 60
no sound, squirrel
42.
nancy the bartender
south of here says:
i've been drinking martinis for 20 years
i don't have to think about what i'm going to have
and nobody has to think about what they're gonna give me
43.
manipulation
is a casual espousal
of receptors, there
44.
my dream led me to be a naturalist
down the sand to the sea
in a rolling loss of plumey grass
i got the taste of the axial world
and held the pleasure
like one kissing vestments, devoted
45.
geese cross the road at the light.
a cortege winds out of town
and i follow, for miles, so pleased
to go slow, above ground with proud birds
and the toughening dead, i say
who gets two processions in a day?
46.
the dream again
you can always tell when you get translux,
bright yarns flowing from stretched wires
on the breeze
that something has appeared unlike anything
yes dream so real
i'll think upon waking
where i am, is there a thing to do
not to tremble?
47.
oh dream where now
i've been pretending to walk like her,
a little shamble, forward but sideways,
head down, smile sad in one so young,
so quickly naked
48.
Sue, who mends my clothes, is the kindest woman.
There can be no doubt about the beatitudes.
If I were troubled, we'd be praying in the sewing.
49.
being Dylan would be unwise
except disguised
in a corner listening, with him on stage
to Jimi doing your song
how shy and high he lived
50.
The dream asks me what I like.
To hitch up my jeans, open my shirt,
put hat in pocket, let the sun warm my head
walk all over town
with my arms spinning
like airplanes sputtering over all the barns.
© Copyright 2004 Peter Chapman
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