MORE EARLY PUBLISHED POEMS

SPIGOT (early version)

I.

stranger
nemesis to himself
foisting drill-press limitation
hard-edged
guilt by disassociation
fire line discombobulation
on one's own psyche.

not particularly healthy
non-controllable, weird osmotic
chemical reaction to heart's conundrums
not conducive to positive growth potential.
fuck the diagnosis
race for the cure.

II.

deserted.
non-malicious bailing out
those who've had enough
or search a different window.

there has not been a day
without tears
(waterfall;
glacial trickle > ocean roar
record setting, soaking pearls
of rejected anger, mists of acceptance
beauty's reflected appreciation
longing's widening, leaking fissure)
raining for 49 humid days
dark, ebony nights .
after 15 years of drought,
thirsting for tear's acknowledgment
of some dab of emotion left floating inside,
the parched earth
rock solid
impenetrable
like my stupidity
my rigorous, inflexible blinders
the spidery flawed face of the self-loathing mirror
turned shamefully to the wall.
Barely a smidgen of moisture crept through.
But what did seeped into the cracked weaknesses
of my hardened self-hatred
created rivulets of hope
positive flow


(beneath the surface
waterways tinged of reminiscence
just navigable
in the eerie inner darkness
the memory of passionate language of thought
floating
downstream
toward that light)

III.

my face
flushes briefly with the warmth...
stopping breath
time
memory
flow
only to slip further away
always, inexplicably out of her grasp
always mysteriously in reach
waiting
always for that warm glimmer
upon my saddened brow.

always
the light
she silently calls out
whispering my given name
singing the word "beautiful"
softly on my every breath.

always
a darker reality
than the soul can bear.

IV.

time cradles light like a fragile child
sneering menacingly at the baby's face
calling it's hand.
full of love, sustenance and compassion
the light's radiant smile
briefly tickles time's chin
only to dim
in it's powerful stare.


-- 6/23/96 as it appeared in print. This version appeared in the poetry zine
A Hindu, A Buddhist & A Lion Tamer, #2, Folcroft, PA. 1996
Credited to “Victor Bradley”. A later edited version appeared in GLIMMERING RAY DUET collection (see blog posted here on June 30, 2008)

MY EARLIEST PUBLISHED POETRY: from ESSENCE OF DRAGON WINGS

In August of 1978, I had three poems published in a poetry zine put out by a handful of SDSU poetry department students and teachers. My friend Mary Jacob was involved and Stan Sewitch another friend of Mary and mine did some illustrations if I recollect. The following three poems show my earliest stabs at thinking I could try this. I'd had a great poetry course recently with the marvelous central California poet, Gary Soto. It would be years before I found what he called "my emerging voice" but his encouragement as well as that of Carolyn Forche who was also teaching at State helped me at least be comfortable enough to show them around a bit.


What I like about them now, even in their struggle to be "poetic", I was able to grab three distinct moments from my life and write about them with separate structural ideas while still trying to reflect the way I heard myself speaking. Baby steps.



THEY LOOK LIKE TWINS IN THE DARK

Lit by burning wax thru ferns and plate glass
Skin against warm skin
Lava on rock
Hips moving against each other.
The record sings, "Open your eyes, you can fly!"

They listen with armies of moths
Fluttering under their skin.
The dreams, like flames thru dry ice,
Surround them in candlelight about the walls.

Someone watches from the window
As the moon slips behind a cloud.

-- for Dusty, Ocean Beach, February, 1977
first published in Essence Of Dragon's Wings, Vol. 2, No. 1, 1978

THE WORM

There's a religious fanatic
On Channel 10
And three drunks doing somersaults
In the living room;
One without his upper plate
And the other two munching down
Week-old chow mein.

And I'm in here
Halfway between drunken despair
And Forks, Washington.
Lying in bed
I try to find a comfortable spot
To leave both my feelings and my hangover.
No lightning between my toes.
No passionate clinches in dark hallways.
No laughter from behind the bathroom door.

Damned exotic fruit drinks:
Every time somebody turns on the blender the TV zaps out.
I never remember drinking the worm
But it always crawls up my throat
In the middle of breakfast.

-- Ocean Beach, December 1976
first published in Essence Of Dragon's Wings, Vol. 2, No. 1, 1978

UNHEALTHY

A year ago today
you told me to get my
tooth fixed
one day later
we had lunch
in front of a swing band
I haven't seen you since.



-- for Papa, San Diego, November 1977
first published in Essence Of Dragon's Wings, Vol. 2, No. 1, 1978

TRIO THREE

Not nearly straight and nothing but chaser
Illustrious riff rears its Promethean head
For one brief measure
Every 20^th or so
Just a clue
Like a fleck of orange in a room-wide
Pollack
diatribe.

~ spontaneous composition penned during the opening tune of the first set of
TRIO THREE (Oliver Lake / Reggie Workman / Andrew Cyrille) at the Philadelphia Art Museum.

ON THIRTY

At eight years past
Or perhaps six
You were pulled
Arguing, across my path
by a girl with eyes wide set as mine.
You wore the faddish
stupid pants of the day.
Eventually
I rolled up my sleeves
And threw my forearms
Around your raving countenance.
You paced
Still do
Frenetic
Anxious
Sponge on wheels
Suck it up
All glorious life
All yammering living.

Tonight
Your 29 years
Still tumescent
Roll away behind you.

I ride facing backwards on a train
From jazz central
Back into the womb
Of your caring family
And eloquent friends
Together
Celebrating your breath
Laughter
Your flow
Magical exuberance of sexy intellect
Childish insecurity
And macho vitality.

We love every bit
Toast your life
Hold you close
Want forever
Your respect
Promise our love
Declare our loyalties.

Your world
Always ours
Our joy at your presence
Tasting
Of deep red wine
on our tongues.













~ for NG, 4/25/08

AFTER SEVEN DAYS OF ORBITING YOU

i.

You and your fragile, broken heart
Call me
A beacon in my endless night.
One fleeting glance
Caught me unaware
Cemented my devotion
Catalyst for my silly yearning
Heartfelt seriousness
Immense care.

The endless boots
Compelling stockings
Classy style and stylish cap
Launch a million dreams
That no small feat of mesmerizing foolishness
Can fulfill.
To find me in your sphere
An odd
Complex
And silly joke
I would not trade for all the green tea in China.
That you would ever find something in me
Worthy of your delicious
Germanic upper lip,
Cascading hair
Luminous in the light of another barroom
The easy grace and subtle humor of your hips
Your waist
Your gentle hands on my arm
And
Again those eyes
Which disarm me of any "game"
Every time they smile into mine
-- a mystery no soothsayer
Can decipher.
Just blessed
I guess
I
am
Indeed.

ii.

One
Fleeting
Glance
As I locked into those eyes
As you walked purposefully
Down
The aisle towards your seat --
End of intermission
Start of a new chapter.

It had been decades
Since a lightning bolt
Caught me
Dead center.
Eons since this age old
Heart of mine
Screamed so loudly out at me,
“Pay attention YOU!!!
Do not take one more step
Without really seeing
The blessing before you.”

How can I be so bold as to want so much so quickly
To presume so much connection
From such a fragile heart
When my own has been so empty for so long?
Just when I thought life was just a trick of the light
Done with mirrors
Fun house deception
Gone batty
In the dead of night,
Just when I thought I'd filled the hole
With myriad sweet sensations
Songs of bliss
Keys of life
Women of loving tenderness
And fiery surprise...

...here you are
Showing me signs of redemption
When all you see from your end is pain.
If you only knew what you have given me
That your breath be mine
my nightly wish
That our eyes stay focused
Every minute, my prayer...
That I am not a fool
And don’t presume your resonant youth
Divine presence
And ravenous beauty could be anything
I’d be worthy of.
But, a man can dream,
My how this man can do nothing but.

iii.

So I keep my distance
Respecting your pain
While wanting nothing but to cure you
Enticing your time away from all comers
Wanting only to enchant you
Wishing I could be just the very thing that you need
In just this one moment
And
Then
Again
In the next.

iv.

And what is
Is
And what will be
Will be.
I can do nothing more
Than wish I could break through
The armor
Of distraction
Of iPhones
Ex-lovers
And timelines
Preconceptions
Of cockblockers
And last calls
To just tell you
Thanks
For making
This one man
Feel
At least
While locked in your gaze
One
Glimmer more
Important
And sexy
And worthy
For at least this very
Short
And beautiful
Moment in time.

-- January 15, 2010 - spontaneous heart writing, 3:54am

OVER MY SHOULDER

Over my shoulder
Is the man you long for
Over my shoulder
Is the one you love
Over my shoulder
Is the life of the party
Over my shoulder
When push comes to shove

Over my shoulder
Is one who ignores you
Over my shoulder
Is my longtime friend
Over my shoulder
Is someone you long for
Over my shoulder
Will it ever end?

Right here before me
I’m so quickly learning
Right here before me
That I can’t resist
Right her before me
I’m so deeply yearning
Right here before me
I so want to kiss

Right here before you
Is someone who sees you
Right here before you
As you really are
Right here before you
Is someone who needs you
Right here before you
like a shining star

But over my shoulder
Are your eyes still gazing
Over my shoulder
If you only knew
Over my shoulder
Now my eyes are glazing
This invisible man
Waiting just for you.

- for SNS, spontaneous song lyric, in bed at 4:12am on 1/15/10

CAMI'S TREE

As a young girl in love
She’d walk through the woods to her tree.
It lay flat on the ground
Bark pulling away from the trunk
Rain and rootlessness
Changing it slowly to a charcoal gray.

She’d hike back to it
Looking up at the morning sky
Perhaps pining for some new boy
Or luxuriating in fresh moments of young love.
She’d dream of futures
Watching the clouds billow and flow
An armada of hopefulness
Sailing across the deep blue expanse above.

She’d feel her tree before she’d even see it
The racing of her pounding young heart
Giving its presence away
Once there she’d sit
Admiring her previous handiwork
A litany of dreams and plans
Realized and dashed possibilities
Represented by the names
Etched in to the wood in front of her.
She tells her youngest daughter
That someday
She will find a tree of her own.

Now, over thirty-five years on
She returns
A new name beating beneath her breast
A ripe and spinning unknown
Laying itself out before her
Surprising
Needed
Teetering on the brink of realization
And she dreams again
That once that name is carved into her log
This new start, this speeding heart
This electric fuzziness she can’t shake
Will manifest before her
A dream made real
A soul tied to her own.
The penknife shakes imperceptibly
With the anticipation of the first
Slow, loving cut.

~ for Cami, June 26, Arden