Abalone I

Photo of Knowland Park from web search (unknown photographer)

In the needlegrass field

          by the fairy ring -        

                                              

how much can change

                         in a month?

 The mossy 

                     evergreen tree

bulldozed by

rare

                  manzanita,

maritime chaparral,   

                              chamise.                            

A chestnut-backed 

chickadee

and a flicker 

escape from

prolonged 

solitude:

how to build a 

roundhouse

and land trust.

How to avoid

hopeless ness,

a draft.

Nina Simone's Feelin' Good: https://youtu.be/D5Y11hwjMNs

    Photo above from Save Knowland Park website

    10/22/15 photo of the top of Knowland Park (of the Oakland Zoo new development)

PLUTO

We got the updates about You!

Photos from NASA on how Your 

heart shines, and Your five moons:

Charo - and we've heard Styx,


Nix, Kerberos, and Hydra -

that You're cold and distant, a

stygian money making machine

for the City's parasitic hills.


You're like the weeds hemlock and 

broom, who won't read this poem,

just here to command my attention.

Someday I'll learn how to listen.

À la recherche du temps perdu

OAKLAND 1994

Tony Toni Tone - Lay Your Head On My Pillow https://youtu.be/4b92-S8Qexk

Wheat-paste and spray paint over

rum ads we had just barely begun 

the biggest Free Fred on a billboard

when caught by the Lucky Florist man. 

We got away, like the three other times   

we told the po-po the art teacher said so.

They left us with the paint  and  buckets

except our friend Mexican-Indigenous hand-

cuffed and hauled off. She was roughed 

up. We  raised  bail  that same night  

in  jail she ate a  bologna on white 

bread  sandwich.  To  my  freedom-

loving  accomplices  who  know   

we  can  get   better:  Lay  your  head        

on  my  pillow  and  just  relax, relax, relax...

Urban pastoral

Often I am permitted to return to a meadow

as if it were a given property of the mind

that certain bounds hold against chaos,

                                       - Robert Duncan

concrete     pellitory    crack.     ONE  HAND  CAN

red      admiral      butterfly.  SNAP   RAZOR   WIRE 

dead   murres  and  gulls.   I'VE   BEEN  TRAINED 

egret        neck        asphalt.   BY   EXPERTS   WHO   

sparrow     house         finch.    COVER   THEIR   FACES

cigarette    butt      toad.     CLIMB   TALL   FENCES

August        creek       for   SWING  ROOF  TO  ROOF.

tag          spray          every-    RACCOON  CAN

body's     for       cash       SLIDE UNDER 

for     petroleum      oil.    SECURITY BARS

engines      for       whine     NO  ALARMS   SOUND

not        puffin       nest   COYOTE  HUNTS

rock        crevice      lament.   YOUR   CAT

"It's       not        dis-    AND  QUAIL

continued    just    out".  COMES   BACK.

Summer Inspiration

Some other poets' poems I've added for the solstice - postmodern pastorals of the west:    http://www.poems4nature.blogspot.com/p/other-poets-poems.html

Wendy Red Star's print (U.S., Crow; b. 1981), "Enit" 2010

Onomatopoeia

I'm tucking this poem away since my intention is as an Exquisite Corpse, which is yet to happen...any art form welcome if you want to add to it:

momentum of grace*

For Mumia Abu-Jamal, Sundiata Acoli, Leonard Peltier and the 2.3 million people in prison in U.S. 

         

                   
bodies     breathe

                                thick    walls
                           
                                             echo 

for   you          
           
                                            clary        

                                            sage

steamy

jacuzzi

                                         lemon 

                                           balm                                       

huckle-

berry      
    
                                       mountain

                                           stream

from   us

                                    a   million

                                          letters 

a   microphone

                 standing

                             room

           doors  

open

                                     heartbeat

                                         of   fire

elbow

              in   elbow                  

                                          a  line

                                       of   livid

love




*title is from Joy Harjo's poem Emergence                                        

Inspired by "Stay Tuned" Ai Weiwei's sound installation with music, poetry and spoken words by people who have been detained for expressing their beliefs: IN THE CELLHOUSE - A BLOCK   

TRIPLE BURNER

http://youtu.be/acT_PSAZ7BQ
Poets Theater at its finest. Made in Oakland, CA:)

METAL aka WIND

The Great Clod (the earth) belches out breath and its name is wind. So long as it doesn't come forth, nothing happens. But when it does, then ten thousand hollows begin crying wildly.

- Zhuangzi

EARTH

NI  PENA  NI  MIEDO

Without Pain or Fear

- Raúl Zurita

    Don't    You    Worry

      'Bout    A    Thing*



          midnight     blue    

     wild    lilac    bloom

     a    bowl    to    eat    

swollen     root     inner      

       bark     ripe    fruit

            recline    nearly
   
       naked     sunshine

               heart     easy    

     in     stream     near

mountain    meet    sea     

        spring     meadow

   

    Don't    You    Worry   

        'Bout    A    Thing

        cycles    of    leaf 

                fall     where
    
              your     songs    

                        nourish    

                mouth    and    

              warm     eyes       

          touch    luscious   

                            core

                   to    gravity

*from Stevie Wonder's 1973 album Innervisions: http://youtu.be/zywDiFdxopU

FIRE

 you are all in those spaces
          that stretch

          and intend

       toward change 

- Fiona Templeton, from CELL 8, in Cells of Release

           door-       ways 

               to        roof-

                           less 

       shrine          of     

                           fire        

      breath

                           hold

                           more          

        heat

                          quench

                      

          our        

        love-           ly

                           bodies

WOOD

She opened up and fell apart
and from her parts sprouted

sleeping thoughts

 of love, livid

    in love, living

out of love

- Cecilia Vicuña, from Palabrarmas

 twist

            re-      
                         
lease

       moss

                    

   lichen   

     on   oak

trunk   for
                                
 fern      and

          acorn

   gather            

                                                                                                    

warmth    

WATER

The thing I came for:

the wreck and not the story of the wreck

the thing itself and not the myth...

  - Adrienne Rich, Diving into the Wreck

                         Before   humming   bird

                                  gets     fire,        water      is

                                     every       where.       Eagle   

                                     calls      hawk      to 

                                   
                         mountain    since       they      

                                   miss    us.     Curled     up    

                          and    sleeping,        they

                                  dream    the    Ohlone      stories.

Stuffing

 (Retro 90s #1)

An  old  man  Jack  said

This   Is   Not   Poetry.

I responded    It     Is.

Shortly   there-  after

he  left  his  barstool

and growled out the door.

I figured later  that  night

his   dreams   were   scary

because he  lost  the  gold.

I   told   him    Yeah,   Jack,

You got the sly and witty words

But the beanstalk is no escape.

I said   Yeah, This Poem Is

  bro-  ken    beer    bottles,

   grease       and        tar.

Vine -ing   sweet    peas

are  bloom -ing  purple  

on   the   back     stoop

And  this  is  Stuffing

for  turkey  or  chicken:

Add  a  ton  of  onions 

peeled,  chopped  and 

sautéd    until     soft.

Stir in thyme, sage, pepper,

car-a-way  seed  and   salt.

Mix with bread and potatoes.

W h a t-    e v e r,

I’m  not   a  cook 

but that’s Stuffing.

A poem of mine circa 1995-96 when my crew was bike messengers & punk musicians.

Rising Tides

Nas featuring Lauryn Hill - If I Ruled The World

https://youtu.be/-8dyp89uWxA

bus commute aka don't feed the animals

traffic horns full backpacks elbow designer bag standing with cour-
tesy cover the mouth quit memory cough remember not and don't
feed the animals headphones face-book youtube search google pandora 

games ebooks news emoji text instagram updates every day twitter

packed bus to downtown times two times five times four comes to forty
hours is two thousand four hundred minutes in four work weeks and each

season to deaden numb dull suppress

                  ------------

the old-growth's gone 2nd or 3rd for marbled murrelet that's an issue
but minor compared to human im- pact food add corvids times nine
I'll circle and spiral with hands near hips lean back same as wild goose
twice a day in preparation for winter when I itch and crave coffee since
I still don't know how to sit still my heart beats like a reptile waits for

just the exact moment escaping two thousand four hundred minutes

of the deaden numb dull suppress

                  -------------

holiday shoppers next to police with batons and guns in Union Square

a helicopter over protesters' chants that Black Lives Matter in today's

America of colonial rule where my bus took two hours to get home 

today quadruple the typical time of two thousand four hundred minutes 

or ninety six hundred a month grows movements after Ferguson why 

wonder why the mockingbird is singing at nine-thirty tonight in this weather

of almost winter?

    Photo credit: Tim Hussin, special to SF Chronicle 12/16/14

Queen Ix Yohl Ikʻnal

In recognition of Indigenous People's Day

Heart of the Wind Place




I saw your granddaughter

              

                   in the laundromat. 

                                    

                She is

a grandmother herself with

                

         two long, parallel braids.

                                 

                  She has

the same prominent nose,

                   

             earthy complexion

                              

      

            and smile.

I watched her and him 

                           

     in pleasant exchange 

                                            

         regard-  ing 

 the  shape of her shoe. 

                                 

 How I did not know  

                                       

                 what

was coming of her regal

               

         walk out the door to curb

                               

          

       no quest-  ion  

 of   roots   and    ground.

                   

       Oceans      and     storm     tides 

 

                                          

      eat     cities.

How  the  jungle  ate  your

                

   Pal- enque.    One   thousand  years

  

                                           

     of   cedar,

mahogany  and   sapodilla  trees  

                       

    at  Usu- ma-  cinta  River,

                        

                 

         Chia- pas.

Heart  of  the  Wind   Place: 

                   

        you   ran   with  the   moon

 

                                     

            to  here?!