Monday, May 5, 2008

Cinco de Mayo In Red Bluff

Dear Friends,
We had a great time at the Cinco de May Celebration in Red Bluff this past weekend, where Isaias was invited to read and speak from the main stage. He appeared on the front page of the Red Bluff Daily News this morning.  Click here to check out the story.  
 
Please also check out the pictures posted at www.poet2.blogspot.com
 
Best
Ken
 
 

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Poems For Today - May 1

Troubadours at My Door
 
Troubadours knocking at my door –
Oh my!
                                               
They'd been traveling for days
In their little tour bus,
So I decided to "open up"
Troubadours are smart and jolly,
They're full of fun and folly.
And then, they rushed in
To the bathrooms –
Oh my!
                                               
They were hungry,
So a feast I prepared.
They were road-weary,
So lodging I snared.
They needed a venue,
So a park by the sea I found,
For their poems profound!
 
That festive night
We feasted, laughed, exhorted!                                                                                               
Some of them road-sick,
So they snorted!
Exhausted and tired
We all went to bed,
Next morning I rose to find
Troubadours sleeping on my floor –
Oh my!
                                               
They had many needs
That I tried to fulfill.
I kept going and going
Like climbing a hill.
Their enthusiasm contagious
Soon I would find myself
Onstage most outrageous –
Oh my!
 
We breakfasted and made a picnic
For our day in the park.
Then we loaded the bus
And were off on our lark.
Their poems were magnificent!
Out of sight!
So I invited them to stay
Another night –
Oh my!
 
So beat from the heat
And our poetry in the park,
We went out to eat
To a cafe before dark.
Then early to bed
And early to rise
I woke not surprised to find
Troubadours washing tangelos in my sink –
Oh my!
 
When it was time for them to go,
I was already missing them so.
I hugged them and kissed them
And wished them all well,
For they had more stops to make,
And more poems to tell.
Then they were gone!
The house so quiet,
But it looked like there'd been a riot –
Oh my!
 
So I set about straightening it,
And missing them, too,
Whilst cleaning the loo –
Oh my!
 
So, if you're caught up
In your daily strife,
Just let some Troubadours in,
And they'll change your life!
                                                                                          
– Janet Merritt Tooby
    04-27-08

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Poems For Today - April 30

BUS TO ANYWHERE

 

And when there's no real need to go

Anywhere, just the will to be,

Drive to the coast

Somewhere between Santa Cruz

And San Luis Obispo

In a bus that reads The Inner Journey

On its brow, in unassuming print,

Painted with sunflowers, lotus, grape vines,

The night sky, a green man.

Do it on a day when the sunlight

And the breezes are in a dervish,

So that the surf is a wild gallop

Of sparkle and foam.

At your other flank, the vultures

Tease their fluttering capes over

Hills drunk with green.

Stop only if you spot pelicans fishing.

Watch their rowdy plunges,

Wings folded as if in a last desperate

Prayer. Listen through the roar

For the wet slap of their bodies

Meeting the ocean.

You might be hearing the distant thwack

Of a poem, like wet jeans on asphalt.

Write the words on the thigh of the bus,

Or on its snout, or its broad butt..

Recite them to the wind at the next

Stop. Let the sounds trip

Off your tongue like seeds,

Or gadflies for the comfortable towns.

Release them, wild breakers,

To pound the sleeping sand.

 

‑‑K. Lauren de Boer

April, 2008

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Poems For Yesterday - April 28

Dear Friends,
 
Yesterday we celebrated the end of the Poetic Opening Tour with a victory loop from Red Bluff Park up to the Univeristy of California Hat Creek Radio Observatory and SETI site (search for extra-terrestrial intelligence) near Mount Lassen and then on to Burney Falls and back to Red Bluff.  Here are some poems and impressions from a wonderful day out that no one should miss the next time they visit Red Bluff Park.
 
Cartographers Of The Sky
 
From the depths of space
A blue, wet and cloud streaked planet
floats serenely in blackness
The surface appears
To be three quarters water
Marked by irregular landmasses
And capped with polar ice
 
Gazing from afar
One would see no evidence
Of the human activity
Teeming on earth's suface.
Our homes
Our soaring spires
Our vibrant cities
Our fields of green and amber
Our acts of kindness
And flights of passion
Triumphs of intellect
And heroic endevours
 
All are quite invisible
To our unaided vision
Scanning our world
Across the vastness of space.
 
(From the SETI site, Hat Creek Radio Observatory)
 
 
Wobbling Up Highway 5
 
Wobbling up Highway 5
Past Jelly's Ferry Road
In search of Extra-Terrestrials
At the Hat Creek SETI site
"Report drunken drivers by dailling 911"
We're at Hooker Creek and
The Mily Way just passed on 18 wheels
Golden poppies line the median
Like sun shining on the Verison
Sunset Hills reminds us of
"The Sage Of The Andes" - Silo
And how a sunset can change the meaning of your life
Three snow capped mountain ranges converge here
Not unlike Punta de Vacas
The Sierras, The Cascades and The Coastal Range
We've taken on a new band of troubadors
For this victory lap tour
Patricia and Mark from New York
Janet and The Usual Suspects
We pass Gas Point Road
And feel the pain of rising prices
But angels seem to appear
When the fuel tank is low
From some wonderful Californian Welcome Center
You know who you are
 
Ken and MaryJo (Mobile Poem)
 
Balls Ferry Road
 
In search of Extra-Terrestrials
Breakfast with Dick at the Fly Palace restaurant
Full of good old boys
The walls and halls full of
Local branding iron symbols
Frontier Feed and Saddelry
Pushing the limits of the known universe
What will happen when we find out
We are not alone
What if they come expecting to find Mr. Ed
Informed by re-runs
Birds of Prey
Preyed on by accompanying sparrows
It's a dog eat dog world
And MaryJo riding co-pilot
While Kurt ate fresh green beans and pork for breakfast
Dream Catcher Road
A land of fertile soil and big trees
East 44 to Mount Lassen
We're all looking forward to
The coolness of mountain breezes
After cooking in valley heat
An exhausting heat that demands a summer siesta
Shingeltown land covered by boulders
The sign of a big bang
Sent 20 miles in every direction
When Mount Lassen blew its top.
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobiel Poem)
 
Model Log Homes
 
Model Log Homes from a kit
Put together like a jig saw puzzle
The pine trees on either side of us
Are perfectly vertical
And straight as telephone poles
Perhaps their future calling
Walt's temperature rises
As we climb abover 3,000 feet
More work for a bus full of people
Made lighter by the constant laughter
That rolls and soars to giggles
as we celebrate our victory lap
A tour of historical proportions
Converting into a modern myth
Up and down California's coast
No longer the twisting cliffs of Highway One
We're winding our way up Mount Lassen
Arriving just now to snow
Snow at 5,000 feet, Volcanic Park
Eskimo Hill Summit
5993 feet above sea level
A mile high is 5,280 feet
A few trees left along the highway
In front of the clear cut devastation
Of our professionally managed forests
SETI s a mountain valley
Still 20 minutes away
We're turning on Doty Road loop
It's like Paradise here.
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
 
Inside A Radio Telescope
 
100 Miles North East of Red Bluff Park
We toured the UC Berkeley SETI facility
With Gary who told us about Spin-Flip Transitions
Where photons are released by this reaction
Allowing us to see the flipped object
And figure out what it is made of
Hat Creek,
Hold on to your Hat Creek, it's windy here
The bus people demanded the Doors
And then began clapping, shouting and screaming
LA Woman in the afternoon
The trees are swaying in the wind
We're going to Burney Falls
By mutual consent
And Dick's arm twisting of stubborn Ken
They yell City of Light repeatedly
The out of tune energetic force of our occupants
Blasts us into the windshield
Where we remain pinned by the sheer volume
We stop so Ken can pay the keepers
Of the entrance gate to the falls
And Irina bought marshmellows
But couldn't roast them
Over Patricia's cigarette lighter
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobiel Poem)
 
Ode To Susan Wooldridge
 
We'll begin with the confustion of noun verbs
That are homonyms
The plane and simple plain, planes
The flat plane as a way of preparing
The whey for the cheese
Kurt closed my rest area
And forced me to homonym with him
In honor of the poemcrazy goddess
We've finished a long poetic bus tour
That ended up searching for Extra-Terrestrials
In the mountains
The runaway truck lane never went uphill
So Ken lost interest in interesting others
In the fate of those runaway truckers
There you go! 
What does goes up?
And when your gone, what goes on?
An uneasy spirit is not easily satisfied
With partial answers or stone hard truths
But instead demands
The opening of bottomless being.
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
 
Humanity is a seed in the Garden of Life.
Heavenly bodies orbit the Sun.
The seed  grows and matures, while the Univese expands and evolves.
 
Haiku verses
 
Some occurences
  are gifts bequeathed by the mind
to nourish the soul.
 
         ***       
 
Reveries like dreams
  take place while one is Asleep;
Intent, when one is Awake.
 
           ***
 
One fervently hopes
   repetitions ad nauseam
 could summon a change.
 
           ***
 
Silence swept away
  emptiness full of debris
unblocking life's flow.
 
          ***
 
 I am a New Moon
  that reveals a face of the earth...
 
I am a Graden
  home to bonzai of flowering plants and fruit bearing trees..
 
I am Butterfly
  cuddled in a frail cocoon..
 
I am Dawn
   knocking at heaven's door..
 
I am a Breath of Life
  struggling as Human.
 
Thelma

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Poems For Today - April 27

Dear Friends
 
Today we held the final celebraton of the Poetic Opening Tour which was held at Red Bluff Park. It was a wonderful day and gathering of poets from all parts of California and other regions of the USA. We will post the poems read as they arrive to us.  Stay tuned for the Third Poetic Opening Tour, coming to a location near you - soon.
 
With warm love and affection
 
Walt VanGo and the Poetic Opening Goliardos and Troubadors
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE

Poems for Yesterday - April 26

Dear Friends
 
Yesterday was one big poem spent at Red Bluff Park with friends from many different parts of North America.  We were there to hear a special message from its founder Silo - "The Sage Of The Andes" - transmitted to the park from Punta de Vacas Park located in the heart of the Andes Mountains.   You can take a peek at this transmission by clicking on the following link.  [Silo - Transmisison From Punta de Vacas]
 
In the evening International filmmakers Daniel & Donna Zuckerbrot, debued their new documentary on the life and times of this contemporary Andean sage and social thinker.  Click here http://www.greghopen.com/editor.html for more information on the documentaries of Daniel & Donna Zuckerbrot.
 
Best
Ken
 

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Poems For Today - April 26

Day Of The Winged Lion
 
Early this morning while boarding the bus
One of June's neighbors came by with her son
She was asking MaryJo and Ken about our bus
And took her five year old son Alex
To read the poems on each side
After they left, Alex returned with a gift for us
A small, purple, winged lion that we placed
In the middle of MaryJo's dream catcher
A gift she gave the bus when we left San Rafael
A lifetime ago.
This tour has changed us and everyone's faces are more relaxed
The poems keep finding us and wherever we go
We often pass out at the dinner table
But we always have a floor to sleep on
Kurt is 66, Ken is 59, Isa is 65
June is 65, Erika is 59, MaryJo is 55
And Irina is 23
What's up with that?
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
 
Woodland
 
Kurt caught his finger in the door and screamed F**K
at the top of his lungs. Obviously not an enlightened being
We just left a memorial interchange dedicated to someone
we've already forgotten and now its I-5 north to Red Bluff
Our final destination although we will do a victory lap
to the SETI site on Monday.  June is on the bus,
but Dick's gone up ahead to put his house in order.
After fixing and repairing all of June and Nina's
carpentry and plumbing.  Walmart is such a presence
on this highway, we are obliged to include them
Always low prices, but somebody's paying for it somewhere
We suspect they are in China.
The pets of America everywhere are better fed
and better nourished than several billion children.
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
 
Silent Spring For Rachel
 
It's so nice when June is with us because she laughs at my jokes
Off to our right is the smallest complete mountain range in the United States
Sacred to the Colusa Indians. Over the snow capped mountains to our left
is Clear Lake, home to DDT and was the inspiration for Rachel Carson's outcry
Now she'd be dismayed by the reckless treatment of mother earth
and wouldn't stop weeping for us. I know we can't go back,
how could we live without High Definition Television
Smoke fills the sky from rice fields being burned
Here's Ken's favortie coffee stop, Java City so we get gas where there used
to be Granzella's Deli, full of animal trophy heads and a glass caged polar bear
until it burned down last year. Mary said the press is coming today because
of the vandalism at the park and Ken said it has turned out to be a gift.
Whatever makes the puppy jump!
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

Friday, April 25, 2008

Poems For Today - April 25

















YARD SALE - 3737 Orange Avenue
First stop Big Lots for water, batteries and chocolate
Then Sacramento Airport for Dick to rent a car
It's a beautiful day today, even the motorcycle cop
that just passed us didn't have his jacket on
We were treated to a brunch that Rolo made
Of onions, sausage, scrambled eggs, toast and jam
So much food we couldn't finish it
So Thelma packed the leftovers for us
And read from the Inner Look during brunch
This is walnut country and we just heard that
The monolith was defaced with red crosses
Dick's still singing from last night's festival of song
Two women sang acapella close part harmony
"As I went down to the river to pray"
We are astounded by the extremeties of the time

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

ELK GROVE
A sub prime mortgage community is on our right
Along with the Slakey Brothers factory and an aquaduct
Ken couldn't be heard over the noise of a passing Coca Cola truck
heading home to Sacramento, the City of Trees.
The air is full of Harley's splattering noise as their pledge of honor
The louder the better, we're coming up to the Capitol Freeway
But veer off to North 5 to the airport.
This is California's center of power with its golden bridge crossing the river
The ghost of Ronald Reagan haunts Arnold and haunts me
Like a shame that's hard to accept.
California keeps electing stars to run their state.
This is a game the republicans have mastered
Putting puppets out front
The radar is enforcing everything out here
Let's take the Garden Highway, the next right.
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)


FROM 5 TO 80
In the new suburbs where
3,000 square foot homes are built on top of one another
With just enough room for a tree
There are plenty for sale here
As the California housing market continues to melt down
Like a shrinking polar ice cap
We are over the Sacramento river again
The same one that passes a block from Rolo and Thelma's
A billboard asks "where does the lotto money really go"?
The schools no longer have music and art programs
It's a big issue here, while more soldiers are killed every day.
It's OK to have a war, as long as you ignore it.
The new wild life sanctuary is dotted by McDonalds billboards
"It's iced to meet you"
I wonder how much money it takes to turn this farmland
Into several thousand homes that look exactly alike.

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

MORRO BAY - DAN ROSE
Grizzled and ancient, bowlegged and wobbling
He spouts bits of bemusing nonsense
Back at the van, time stops momentarily,
As everyone forms an amazed circle around him,
Enjoying the unexpectedness of his odd colorful humor
"Come back for a poetry reading in October,
To my soon to open fireman's diner,
Five dollars a meal. We will welcome you to baked potatoes
A hundred toppings, Ninety nine of which will not be available!"
Erika Teahan
4/17/08

GOING HOME
Sailing along Highway One
Yellow green hills rolling alongside us
Herds of galloping Oak trees
Like so many still life buffalo
Simultaneously lean into an absent wind.
Erika Teahan
4/17/08


ON THE ROAD TO STOCKTON
Flat verdant vistas
Brown and white bovine shapes
Dot the landscape
On the hills, the horizon silhouettes
A bevy of sleek three armed structures
Whirring on and off
In mechanical other, worldly cadence
Odd juxtapostion of the pastoral and space age
What puzzlement they would have cause
Don Quixote on his crusading quest
And for myself in startled bemusement
As I view their absurd towering robodity
Yet another time.

Erika Teahan
4/23/08



Thursday, April 24, 2008

Poems For Today - April 24

Off To Stockton
 
Irritating with reclaimed water
We're in a gusty wind area for the next few miles
Behind an oversized load again
Past by a sunburst cadillac
The gift of the sun is with us
After yesterday's clouds and rain.
 
We're all still a little spacy
From Isa's workshop
Still stoned on life
Not dope for those who need to know
 
Riding on a long causeway
Across the salt flats of Mare Island
Reminding Dick of his beloved horses
Circling turkey vultures overhead
It feels good to be on the road again
We both think it was the openeness of the salt flats
Their expansiveness
That gave us each this feeling simultaneously
Ahhhhhhhhhhh, law of concomitance
 
Ken & Kurt (Mobile Poem)
 
Not Fairfax But Fairfield
 
Flatness with a few ten story trees
Factory lined roadside with Jelly Bean, Budweiser and Faberware
Passing Pennsylvania Avenue but their's no White House on this one
Only Mount Diablo in the distance.
 
Yesterday belonged to Hilary and Miguel
Who ran screaming and jumping in celebration of her victory
We stopped to watch Windmills, I mean wind generators
Among herds of cattle when we found hundreds of swallow nests
Under the viaduct, birds everywhere, clouds of swallows.
 
Downtown Rio Vista and the Doors dominate our soundspace
We approach Lodi, the land of CCR
Our ears are given the organ solo from "Light My Fire"
We decided to not hesitate any longer
Whatever this tour is, we're going to put it all out there
And light a fire everywhere.
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
 
Interstate Five
 
Our whole landscape has turned into a super highway
At 60 miles per hour, we're the slowest thing out here
The terrible smell of sewage hits us
A couple miles after we pass the plant
Passing the Eight Mile Road, Ken has the retreat feeling
Which is all about living in a different world
Where all the difficulties disappear
And we are left with this big sky
That stretches before us like a welcoming song
Or like an image from the middle ages
The sky is an inverted bowl
Full of Joy.
 
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
 
April 23, 2008
 
For now words don't allow access to my internal world
And it is only through ceremonies that I am deeply touched
The rest is only the superficiality of the "I"
Dreaming about it's own glory.
 
Kurt Heyl
 
Now I See
 
Now I See
The undeniable usefuleness
Of the "I"
In its world
To open the door
Of solidarity
And to facilitate
Entrance into the ceremonies
For others who are searching
For meaning in the nonsense
So for me
It's my criticism of my "I"I
Which until now
I have seen as an obstacle
Rather than a vehicle
That can function
Through my body
As a conduit for others
Without my opinoions
Blocking the way.
I need to figure out
How to move in the world
Without getting in my own way
And keeping my opinions to myself
Is an important step.
Learning how to stand
Outside my predjudices
To see myself as a whole being
And how that being expresses itself
In the world as someone searching
For a way to be useful
Complimentary rather than the individualization
That is propagated by our culture
Individulazation in order for people
To remain isolated from one another
And for the power to continue to be centralized
By the super wealthy in their offshore corporate centers
Controlling mass media and all higher education.
 
Kurt Heyl
April 23, 2008
 

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Poems For Today - April 23

The Sweetness of My Life

Lately I'm a stranger to my internal, quiet place
Fear keeps me busy, and I stay on the move
But when I pause just now
And breathe into this space I create
At first I am sad, and finally the tears come
But almost in the same moment
Taken by surprise
Hiding from my busy mind
As if forgotten
I feel in my being
That deep joy that sustains me
I feel
My breath, my heart, my soul
I feel the sweetness of my life

MaryJo McReynolds

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

And Some More Poems For Today - April 22

Poetic Storm Troupers

Poetic storm troupers
Now beached like great hump backs
Resting in a plush sea
of carpets and sofas on my living room floor.

What a strange morphology
These lyric half-a-lumps
Each sleepily holding
Wave strewn diamonds and pearls of
Orphic hymns
And great oceanic soundings
The vibrations of which spread wide
Along the majestic California forests and
Waterways..

Wake up you careening caravan of poets
Today is a new day
And humanity needs you

Come spout your poetic verse
Following the celestial highway
Towards the northern star
Till it arrives
Till you arrive,
Till we all arrive
at the pristine shores of
Our sacred park.

Janet Shirley

More Poems For Today - April 22

YOU CAN JUST RIDE ON THE BUS

At dusk
in the quiet places of my mind
I sing a song
I wanted to say
say often
say out loud

SAY: HOW CAN YOU LOOK AT HUMANITIES SUFFERING

AND………

© June Robinson

PUEDES SIMPLEMENTE VIAJAR EN EL BUS

Durante el ocaso
en los lugares apacibles de mi mente
canto una canción
quisiera que diga
que diga frecuentemente
que diga audiblemente
que diga: ¿Cómo puedes ver los sufrimientos humanos?
Y………
© June Robinson [translated to the best of my ability, Omar.]

June, you speak the same poetic language that I do, and so I understood the content of you poetry and I connected and I celebrated and better yet,

and… ……I try to do something about, something very little, but if we do something little everyday, the world will be a better place to live… .

Peace, I am very happy to have met you, Omar.

Poems For Today - April 22

Noodling With Chopsticks

The thing is, potential can easily slip through chopsticks
which, if held properly, lift the food gently
and hopefully before slipping away.

Kind of like my mother's mind
and my relationship to her as her daughter.

All that is changing now.

The Chinese eat with chopsticks
by holding the bowl up and close to the mouth
and then (violently) shoveling the food
quickly into their mouths.

Rather like my relationship with my mom now.

Nothing like the handling of an Ollalieberry Turnover.

Top Ramen Shaman of Soquel

MOTORHEAD

Fast brain, big mouth
Heady thoughts abound

Many hands pulling me on
Pushing, urging, speeding towards

Those who brought the motor home
To us, to me, to myself

In this new and strange form
formed by my head
motoring with my heart

Towards all of you, and
you know who you are.

DON'T PRINT THIS ONE.
IT'S TOO DAMN GOOFY.
I'M NOW SELF CONSCIOUS
AND SEEKING RHYME AND LIMERICK STYLES.
I CAN'T STOP.
I CAN'T STOP.
SOMEONE STOP ME.

Top Ramen Shaman of Soquel

Twelve Steps With Walt
(or at least the first few)

I am Powerless over my pen
I'm sorry for writing bad stuff
I will take each day one word at a time

Laughing out loud.
How many people have I now offended?
My apologies if any.....

Top Ramen Shaman of Soquel

Monday, April 21, 2008

Poems From Yesterday - Kurt Heyl - April 21

4/20/08 The Workshop

Isa spoke first, then Ken arranged the readings of Myths by many different people..
Then we separated to write:

These are my Myths

"God said to Abraham,"Kill me a son,
and Abe said no, and God said What?.... down on Hwy 61".
The Blood covered face of Christ, a crown of thorns.
Beaten, humiliated, and nailed to a cross,
then hung up among thieves,

This is my God.
The one who died for me,
and the only one I knew as a child.
I know Jesus was the son who the Father
(all images of men)
gave to us to save us from our sins,
but surely all can see that it didn't work.
He died in vain and his Dad was nuts for killing his only son.

Surely God should have been able to see
the mess we have created through the centuries?
OR as Borges speculated:
The world was created by an infant God,
who long ago lost interest in it,
and ever since it has run on by itself.

These are my antecedents to the non-meaning,
the world in which I found myself growing up.

Now I suspect more of life,
thanks to the gentleness of my wife and
the twenty-four years we spent together,
as her patience allowed the space for me
to see myself over and over again
making the same mistakes, then,
blaming her for my uncomfortableness,
until finally I could learn to respect her
for who she was and not
who I wanted her to be.
Which is where I found some respect for myself.

In the day to day, simple, nothing happening life,
I started seeing my constant criticism
of everything and everyone before it got
into the world through my mouth,
and the feedback from this new un-assaulted world,
began to give me some peace, and even some smiles.

Until last month when my wife Maureen explained
that I no longer created any violence in her,
and she was confronted by the unresolved
problems of her previous marriage.

This is my most cherished validation, and
even though I can clearly see I've just begun,
I stand on the firm ground of knowing that
I treat my wife as I want to be treated.

Kurt E. Heyl
4/20/08

Poems From Yesterday - Charselle - April 21

∞ Eternity ∞

We ride on wheels
To sit in an ever expanding circle of now
To spin the mental cogs
Twirling on this
Swirling sphere
Circumnavigating the sun
In our solar system dance
Pirouetting across our galaxy
Tumbling through space
We ponder universal questions of luminescence
Polishing a pearl of wisdom
We are juggled in the Tao.

©Charselle 2008

Iambe's Cotillion
(still under construction)

In the far off time forgot

When Man wandered with the beasts

Through forests Arcadian

Eating berries, nibbling on an acorn

Pan played his provocative pipes

And enravished Echo answered

And so it was at the tree of life

A new Goddess was born

Mom gave her every word ever spoken

Dad supplied his nimble witted, lusty nature

Beautiful, happy and smart

Full grown she stepped into her part

She was the Goddess of Poetry and Laughter

And sexual Happy Ever After

She winked her eye and began her opening soliloquy

Hello world, I Am Be

The word was out, all over the wood

The new Goddess is Good

Everyone's invited, the party is on

Come to Iambe's Cotillion

To celebrate the birth

Of the Goddess of Mirth and Verse

Oh there must have been a million

At Iambe's Cotillion

Of Sirens and Satyrs

And Naughty fornicators

When Iambe's hips began to quiver

All those Gods began to shiver

Zeus said WOW

Athena said HOW

Then the Goddess of Giggle

Began her wiggle

And with a naughty little curse

She taught them how to verse

She laughed and flicked her skirt

And the whole world began to flirt

Oh there must have been a million

At Iambe's Cotillion

©Charselle 2008

Poems From Yesterday - Rucha, Lauren, Ken - April 21

WEAVER

The Weaver weaves

A life, a man, a story to tell—

"37 years to come to this point"

And a pattern is born

Strand by strand into cloth

Sound by sound into poem

From all the far-flung cosmic notes

And from all the encounters

Of a human soul.

This, then, is something we can

Wear for warmth, when we feel

The "obscurity of an order, a whole," *

Something wrapped as a shawl around

The emptiness that can never be filled.

An origin, a universe, a story to tell—

13 billion years to come to this point

And we are a young species, naked birds

Traveling along a shimmering curve of beauty.

The Weaver, keeper of the strands,

Preserver of what works,

Lover to stories and mystery

From whose loom as womb stardust unfolds;

Weaver, the spider-mystic,

Along whose web-strands

The great Unseen moves,

Giving birth through holy vibration—

The long deliberation of stars,

The fertile simmer of soul

Carried as embers by the poet

To rekindle, each evening,

A candle at the hearth

That lights the dreamer awake.

—K. Lauren de Boer

April, 2008

* "obscurity of an order, a whole" from "Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour," Wallace Stevens. The image of the shawl is from the same poem.
Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour

Light the first light of evening
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.

This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:

Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.

Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.

Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one...
How high that highest candle lights the dark.

Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.

Wallace Stevens

Message From Mark

I'm following the tour daily with great pleasure and enjoying all the contributions - especially the mobile poems. I must admit your journey does brings back certain times and feelings. From 18 to 20 I crisscrossed the US several times hitchhiking etc and some moments were pure poetry, as best I knew. I remember arriving to a beautiful bluff on an empty road in Utah before sunrise. The sunrise so overwhelmed us, was so beautiful and moving, that we were dancing and jumping for joy. I'm sure you're having lots of little adventures and encounters along the way. One of the special occasions when hitchhiking were the times meeting and entering the world of someone(s) who, normally, I would have never met in a part of the country that was all new to me. A big hug to everyone on the bus!

Mark

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Poetry, Myth and The Force Of The Universe Retreat - April 20

Dear Friends,
Here are some poems and writings from the "Poetry, Myth and The Force Of The Universe" Retreat, led by Isaias Nobel in Fairfax today.

Hugs, Ken

She roams.
She finds that trees make her happy.
Organized randomness of growing, luminous branches,
embrace of brittle bark,
generous green swaying in soft breeze.
She had grown in velvet, flowing sand,
humid, salty air and lazy summer days drenched in wet sweat.
She runs to mountains now,
the cold though harsh and scary, is her climatic home.
She looks up and laughs at finding the same clouds
following her from desert through seas to hills.
They are white and light and float.
She wishes to be like clouds,
but is more like her trees.
With roots that delve deep into the ground
and connect each fleeting, flying, falling leaf
to where it's come from.
She wanders
Discovers that each time she is alone
aai, baba, dada, aajoba, aaji -her people,
her past, swim into her soul.
Whisper ancientt secrets, reveal that her struggle is the struggle of all,
no one is alone in their search.
She whispers back to them -to mother, father, brother, grandfather, grandmother,
"there is no me, without you".
She breathes air knowing that every soul
all energy that ever was, seeps into her.
Old lands, young people, ancient creatures,
the new blossoming bud must live together.
she cries salty seas when she is too afraid to jump backwards,
ask questions that have no answers, when others feel alien
when being a transplanted mongrel is too hard to bare.
The desert dunes call her back.
She knows deep down that silky sand breath beauty too.

Rucha


Create/To Be

First energy and first light became

The Spark of existence…So God and Form

Were created…

As the Universe coalesced, it formed and grew;

It became Life in myriad places,

Permutations evolving from Thought and Being

That newly-born man

Called God…

Like a patchwork coat layered with many colors

And with many visions, the Gods

Divided the worlds between them.

"You will see me as Ra or Buddha and live with

Rules created by priestly men."

Yet in this time, shells crack, light reveals…

And through many lives, the "I" sheds layered clothing,

Adjusts to new forms, growing

Revealing the sun within, burning our illusive dreams

And ego-thoughts so we may purify.

Then we are passionately drawing other sparks, other light,

Making the unified whole

For all to be…

(All beings) –

One.

Jeanie Burke

4/20/08



The Song of The Universe

I was walking through the garden
when two birds flew out of the thicket
and startled me out of my dream time.

And through the noise of my busy mind
I thought I caught the sound of the universe
singing its perpetual song to me

A song that pushes life forward
without any hurry
without any discordant tones
as loud as I can hear it

Filling me up
with a perfume that rides
on the golden rays
of life breathing life

And I wept
for this song filled me with a feeling
that I cannot even talk about

All I can tell you
Is that the song loves us
loves all of us
because it loves itself.

Ken Dickinson

Poems For Today - April 19


Rucha Shirsalkar
http://www.clickingbeforethemoment.blogspot.com/

Lucky Drive
As soon as we hit the highway we got a positive beep
House boats outside, goddesses within
We're headed for the opaque city through the gusting wind
The Buckeye road house winks at Charselle
While Mary sees our photos of her sister
Chugging up the Waldo grade
There are new noises on the bus tonight
And even Walt is firing on seven cylinders
Snow caps wave to us from Alcatraz
As we passed into the night of the tunnel
That framed the Golden Gate Bridge
It's unlawful to throw burning objects on to this highway
And we have to be in a wide lane, pay the toll of our time
John Donne's island seems so close
We can hear the bells.

Kurt & Ken Mobile Poem

Gough Not Vincent
Gough, not Vincent, Franklin not Ben, Van Ness not Loch
As we enter an area where tour buses are prohibited
We don't qualify but we are a tour bus, maybee we better Hyde
Jones not James Earl and Taylor not James
Stockton, hello Rolo and Thelma
We can skip Kearney and turn onto the Embarcadero
Ken's not leaving his cliched heart in this hilly city
And Kurt's heart is in Brooklyn
Shameless pandering again and the city's traffice has us immobile.
Charselle said if she had known we were bringing someone for her to flirt with
She would have worn heels, my precious, my precious

Kurt & Ken Mobile Poem

Lotta's Fountain
We're on Market approaching the Lotta's fountain
Where we all gathered after the 1906 earthquake
Only one man was there this year
The unity of our empire hangs on the decision of this day
Market forces are affecting the buy out of Bear Stearns
And Congress works hand to hand to save the rich
From loosing even a penny, as they evict thousands from their homes.
At Powell and Market Jesus Christ loves us, unconditionally we hope
As Dick's a*s went flying after we picked up Jeanne Powell
Finally Janet is here after she drove herself to the Santa Cruz cousin's reading
Golden Gate funkyness is interspersed with the Levi Strauss building
16th and Mission used to be our second home
A humanist point of light in the late eighties
We're looping around the entire city
Like the african drummers encircling the game of the hunt
Seducing our audience from San Francisco
To bring to Mama's and read them our songs

Kurt & Ken Mobile Poem

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Poems For Today - April 18

Back in San Rafael Again

Ken announced we were home
as we approached the outskirts of San Rafael
and the bus exploded in applause
It looks like any suburb
until we pull our bus in the driveway
and tumble out into an almost full moon night.

You can smell the Jasmine in the air
that has exploded out on the back porch
while we have been away
and the wisteria has beaten us home
from Nora's house in Santa Cruz
prompting Kurt
to request more pictures for Maureen

Mr. T will not be pacified until Janet arrives home
from an Ethiopian working day in Mountain View
So we banish him to his crate with doggy crackers
high quality, Newman's Own
as we sit around the table
eating Sphagetthi - Miguel left for us
from his lunchtime cullinary creation

You can feel the sense of tiredness and letting go
from this first part of our Poetic Tour
We slump at the table after dinner,
weary joy and peace

Kurt and Ken (Immobile Poem)

Lightning Fast

The lightning fast
criticism seems to be
a defense and a
compensation for
roots of conflicts.
Blind to my inner conflicts
defensive at light speed

Kurt Heyl
4/20/08

Friday, April 18, 2008

More Poems For Today - April 17

Passing Lane Ahead

As we round the Redwood Tree

Taking its last ride on

Aguar's Sun Tree Service

Which seems to be a dis-service

To those majestic trees

It was thought that we had lost

All the first growth redwoods

But Big Basin houses these ancient trees

Some as old as Jesus.


Bonny Doon is an unusual name for a place

And Swanton road is where Curly used to live,

Who was a milestone in my life because

He changed it's direction 38 years ago

Introducing me to Ouspensky, Gurdjieff and Phenomenology

Before Silo changed it again 35 years ago
Introducing me to myself and Ken,

Isaias, June, Erica, Irina, MaryJo, Dick, Jeanie, Janet, Janet, Paul, Manuel,

Mathew, Nora, Bernice, John, Philip and all our friends
You know who you are.


Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

Ano Nuevo Opened It's Doors

To show us fossil rocks, crashing waves, distant elephant seals

And rich, green, ancient horse tail ferns.

We're in the fog and its cold which has its own beauty

That only requires several extra layers of clothing to enjoy

After sweating on the Capitola Beach this afternoon dodging waves and kelp

This is a warm day in winter as we pass through all four seasons today


Welcoming us into Half Moon Bay's new strip mall

Is a Popeye Chicken and Biscuit Palace

Confirming that this part of the California Coast

Has been sold to the highest bidder

The farmer's daughter lives here too.


The road is hiding from us inside the fog
And Devil's slide is particularly menacing
With a sulphurous stink slipping into our noses
As we look questionably at one another.

It's not me, we each proclaim.

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

Pacifica

Offered a moment of clarity in a green cypress forest

Inside the bus we feel the city approaching
As our energies reflect It's sparkling neurosis.


We're In the slow lane
Climbing the hill to Skyline Boulevard north

Finding the better way to go

Remembering Emma, Godi, Julian
And Pete Seger's ticky tacky boxes

Of Daly City's fingerprints.


The natives are restless
Singing Peter Paul and Mary songs

As we pass the San Francisco Zoo

Who has magical consciousness?
Asks James Brown

And the sun has slipped below the fog

Astonishing us with its incredible beauty.

Kurt, Ken & Dick (Mobile Poem)