Sunday, July 31, 2005

POETIC TRUTHS

August 05 email newsletter
No. 015

This will be a simple newsletter. Five recent poems that I want to share and that you must read, and a commercial that you can skip.


IN PRAISE OF LOVELINESS

Loveliness
who, when
she talks,
talks in jazz
like Mingus
leading a band,
like Miles
birthing cool . . .

like revelations
erupting into
the 21st century
with respect
for what was . . .

Loveliness
moves in jazz,
her body
in its rhythm
like breathe
thru a saxophone
into the air
of some basement club
in some snowy city
on some Wednesday
after midnight

Loveliness
wraps herself
around my soul
like the music
moves me

Loveliness
moves in jazz . . .

Loveliness
moves around
my soul,
into my soul

Loveliness
moves me
like the music
moves me . . .


DANCE ON

dance on
holy ground,
'round and 'round
to thunder's rumble

dance on
holy ground,
'round and 'round
to the whims of the wind

dance on . . .

bare feet harden
on the ground
of the graves
of those who danced
before

dance on . . .

dance on
when the red moon
rises big and low
on the horizon



TODAY RAIN LOSES GRACE AND FALLS

today rain loses grace and falls
from time to time from an overcast sky

two mushrooms grow from the worn carpet
in the corner of the shaman’s bed chamber

twilight-age music plays to hear itself
in some deep yearning to justify existence

this air becomes too cool and humid;
wispy fog almost wishes itself to life

today rain loses grace and falls
from time to time from an overcast sky

two mushrooms grow from the worn carpet
in the corner of the shaman's bed chamber

his mind floats into a different world
or sees this one for what it’s become

his mind visits wisdom earned from silky friends,
his mind hears Lewis Carroll write of Alice in Wonderland


today rain loses grace and falls
from time to time from an overcast sky

wet, the shaman disappears into ancient forest,
into the heavy scent of honeysuckle

musical notes touch his invisible skin like water,
he laughs uncontrollably until he stops

he nods for the seven sisters of sleep,
and wraps himself in the leaves of the trees

he listens to the wisdom in the bark,
to the legends of fairies, elves, and pixies

beautiful women from myths yet untold
feed him fruits, berries, and flowers

he wants, but he won't, he wants, but he won't;
today rain loses grace and falls



AND SHE THOUGHT, "I AM THE RAIN WHEN I READ IT"

" . . . today rain loses grace and falls,"
and she stopped reading and closed the book
and she thought "I am the rain when I read it"

and she was blue
and the rain fell like soft diamonds from the blue sky
and she stripped off her clothes
and she walked into the rain
and she raised her arms to the sky

and she was bruised by the softness
and she tried to rub the softness from her mind

and she found herself on the tangled edge
and she walked into the ancient forest

and she could not see into the black shadows
and she took a long, deep breath, silent

and, finally, she walked back into herself
and, finally, she hugged herself back into existence

and, today, rain loses grace and falls
like soft diamonds from the blue sky



REVEL

Jazz trumpet
through a window
during mid-day sun

notes
over and over again,
each time new,
never losing
the basic feel of sadness
mixed with anger

sounds of
hail and fire
mixed with blood
hiss of fire
cast into the sea
silence
of a shooting star
twilight coming
to question mankind
bottomless pit
of a heroin haze
desperate notions
of a final revenge

pale angel
in black cotton;
quiet, she trembles,
a small book
open in her hands

sits
on the low curb
of a rundown street
on the edge of a city
at the end of time

listens
to the trumpet
as thousands of stars
slowly push the sun
below the horizon

she has
a new face, untouched
by the aging trumpet's
earthly anguish;
eager to appease

at her feet,
in the winds' swirls
of the street's trash
and broken glass,
is her small purse

the purse holds
seven golden vials filled
with the wrath of her god
who considers us all
to be his own children

Grace be unto us all, and peace . . .

Jazz trumpet
through a window
during midnight’s cool,
the basic feel of sadness
mixed with anger

silence
of a shooting star

Grace be unto us all, and peace . . .

pale angel
in black cotton;
quiet, she trembles,
on the low curb
at the end of time

Grace be unto us all, and peace . . .




COMMERCIAL: CREATIVE WRITING CLASS
I get to teach the three-hour "Creative Writing: 10 Essential Elements" – eight times this fall at two community colleges. Would love to have some of you attend, and some of the folks you know. Please help me spread the word.

RICHLAND COLLEGE IN DALLAS (www.richlandcollege.edu, 972.238.6144)
11 October; 15 November

TRINITY VALLEY COMMUNITY COLLEGE (www.tvcc.edu, 903.675.6212)
28 September, Palestine; 1 October, Terrell; 3 October, Athens; 8 October, Athens; 26 October, Terrell; 12 November, Palestine

I also get to teach a new class – "Low-key Public Speaking" – at TVCC: 26 September, Palestine; 5 October, Terrell; 24 September, Athens; 17 October, Athens; 29 October, Terrell; 5 November, Palestine
You can always schedule a private class for small groups.

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Let me hear from you. If you like this, please forward it to others who might like it. I have (mostly) poetry chapbooks available for $5 each or five for $20. I'll handle postage for folks on this list. Email or write me for details. The newest of more than 20 chapbooks is City Under a Tree, which I wrote while I was waiting to buy toner so I could make copies of the previous chapbook, Eve's World.

7391 FM 773
Ben Wheeler TX 75754-2501
(For you singer-songwriter fans, that's in Van Zandt County)