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| 'Walk to paradise garden' , 1946 W Eugene Smith © |
and we went about an endless summer
of parks, parades and drive in movies
with superhero-esque admiration
for the veneer of things ...
she swore her memories to
comic book science
in leather bound
recipes and ritual ...
purring is intoxicating
distraction gaining traction
where my inaction led
to webbed intervals
of chance choice knife and sieve ...
what are we to do now
mud-monster-base-board-er-icks
were invading down unseen
corridor yippee skippee cowboys
the minority european kind
always wore white hats
brown to red to yellow skin
thinly prevailed
in fleeting sometimes
most of us wore black hats
and were the bad guys
in the background ...
story science we needed seeded
to our eugenic gentile fabric
of landscaped feudal charms
and left overs from the civil war ...
each town had its own crown
vignette to cause and decorate
their main street with ...
we admired our life here
when it came to arming
the almost imperceptible will
to always be, a wild west ...
this vestige was
ancient lore's game
lawless plunder
in the name
of tame cycle benevolence ...
the lure is :
host toasted gifting
of the historical
record keepers
far and wide
manning
and womb-manning
the origin lighthouses
and libraries
we plumbed
along the sea ...
--------------------------------
in this chapter life
we skated the pond
by oakwood avenue
near the entrance
of frear park
at the fountain
and round-a-bout
there was a music here
a what the twentieth century
would continue to bring
in the ever changing faces
of marionette-d stir pot-itis
colliding with the seasons
along old route 40 ...
most of us are unaware
of any continuous vibratory
symphony ever painting the future ...
this was a
rutted horse path
a probably once
an overheard
did you smell me
suddenly appear
or was it grace
and iris storms ...
you sheltered me
on the shores
of the hudson
where the locks
hid the rain
in the tumbling
of stories, sky
and mountain
passing by ...
and i haven't thought twice
about not giving in
rice and beans
in my pocket
on the ready
if a wedding
were to begin
on my way past
where i am now
you see
poem and eye
always seem
to be knowing
any next chapter
is a cliff hanger
issue displayed
double cover
special edition
at the news stand
EJR ©
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