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

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

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

 

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)

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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)

Poems For Today - April 17

Loved the poem about our beautiful "sparkling" Aunt Bernice!
How I wish I could be on the road with you guys
sparking all that creativity and celebrating life together!


Riding Along The Road

riding along the road
with you
riding along
with you
writing along with you
writing along
spinning along, weaving new
spinning along with you
i'm the shenachie
the teller of stories and weaver of tales and singer of songs
singing along with you
in spirit i travel and sing
ringng out new tunes and
soon we find harmony together
riding along the road
with you

Shalom, paz y bien,
Kevin aka "que bien!"

James

James the boy who wanders
His youth all spent
He never pondered
Or understood
Why he must wander
He sang off key
But played his guitar
In a great key
He is so determined
To be someone
Who is totally free

June Robinson


HOY

Hoy estuve receptivo,
escuche, observe,
abri mi corazon
y mi intencion esta presente.
Soy uno,
intencionado,
conectado con los demas,
buscando las seniales,
andando.

Hable a mi Guia interno
y me ha respondido,
me ha puesto al paso de los peregrinos,
a compartir la mesa
y alimentarnos de luz,
de lo Sagrado.

Hoy, sensorial y espiritual,
inicio mi conexion
con el proyecto de mi vida.
Que ya lo conocia,
pero estaba dormido en mi.

Gracias al amigo que siembra el Mensaje.
Gracias.

Manuel Nava - Los Angeles - 04-15-2008

Poems For Today - April 16

Riding on the Back Tank from Morro

Let's see how far we'll get
A climbing road twists through the alpine hills
Of golden poppies and purple vetch
Moss covered trees anticipate the arrival
Of the dinosaur park
Let's turnaround and stop for photos.

A teradactyle hung from an oak near the house
A simple case of shameless roadside seduction.
We find ourselves in bed with a T-Rex eating surfboard.

Back in Morro it was easy to superimpose
The image of the monolith on the smokestack
And the image of the sala over the rock hill
Remembering Punta de Vacas.

Last night we watched the preview
of Silo's first monthly transmission.

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

Negro In Black

Automatic transmission service atmosphere once a month
Fairground music with Chinese tones bending notes behind voices of happy children
Andean flutes and dust whirlwinds beside us
He stood behind a crystal clear podium opening a consise world view
That pointed Humanistic action towards the future
How odd we had referred to lifting up parking lots and spirits throughout our journey
To now find Negro decreeing the need to lift the enormous wall that stands between us.

Almost too much clarity for three minutes
We had to watch it three times last night
And another three times this morning
Carrying it with us in our heads on the road.

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

We are on the Fast Course and Walt's flying on an apparently bottomless back gas tank

The plains dotted with farmworkers planting an empty field
Our Ceaser Salad of the future
Crop after crop, it's Steinbeck country minus the mice
Jose wouldn't let us into the bathroom in Greenfield
Because he wasn't finished cleaning it
June told him to back off,
I explainde the concept of fixed image in Spanish
And Erika gave him our tour postcard.
You can tell it's a poor town by the new Launderette
On Main Street.
High school kids passed the gas station in droves
Once asking questions for her sister the poet.
Moved by the parade of young lives,
Alone in Soledad's soltude.

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

How can the young rise above the market forces
That steer their needs with such mastery
That often old age comes sooner than one's awareness
Of the manipulator's expertise.

Cut off by a school bus on 183 heading West to Santa Cruz.
This is leafy green country with infinite perpendicular rows
splaying out from the highway.

Passing through the artichoke capitol of the world without Fidel
Seems to be missing something.
But I've never been more wrong since we were received
with thousands of laughs, giggles and bubbling joys
By the crew of girls who managed our culinary dream of
Deep fried artichoke hearts.

Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)

Isaias was going to pass you his pint of Rocky Road Ice Cream but he accidentaly ate it all

Kurt wondered if Watsonville was named after Sherlock homes,
which ken said was elementary my dear Kurt.
Purple ice plant carpets the sides of the freeway,
as the joy of the girls from Castroville
lingers in our hearts.
It's a Buena Vista Drive up Highway One to Santa Cruz tonight.
The cynicall revenge is removed from our hearts
By the open interest we encounter at every stop
we make these days.
Freedom Boulevard showed up right away.
We held our breathe as the frantic flashing lights
Of the Highway Patrol sped by in front of us.
I think we should drop cynical revenge from this poem
And Dick agrees with me.

Kurt, Ken & Dick (Mobile Poem)