September 2012: 1st, 2nd, & 3rd Selections

the paper bag
warming in the sun
retains the fragrance
of moss. . .
the fir forest

--Brian Howlett

I beg, Brother Owl,

to make room for ease,
for the wise,
for peace beneath the moon

and room as well
for the wide eyes,

for madness, and your leave to howl.

--Birrell Walsh

In Alexandria

My friend and I stand in the crowd
on the cornice watching the high-born
battle for the harbor.  Beyond,
the ancient library goes up in smoke,
the stink of ages blackening the sky,
all and maybe nothing essential
lost.  Bored standing around
sweat-soaked in the blazing sun
we leave and go to find a drink.

--Patrick Mizelle

Fourth September Selection 2012

Poseidon's Horses

At the end of summer

always the wind

watched by the horses

stoutly forward facing it

heads bowed against

the surf of green pastures

as clouds glide overhead.

And always the wind.

Storms blunder in

from the North Atlantic

day turns gunmetal gray

approaching walls of rain

on the road to Vík

all color is smothered

from the world.

Then come

the running cloud-breaks of sun

that stampede over the fields

where the horses are still waiting

and windows of light

race up basalt cliffs

illuminating the glacier fingers

that clutch this island.

Ahead

torrents of a river unravel

on a flood plane

lava sand

the thread of the road

leads to a causeway bridge.

Droves of horses gallop

out of the brightness on the bridge

mounted horsemen follow

the fences of the road

channeling

the currents of the herd

they spread around my car

blowing panting

not quite touching it.

Beyond the river

storm fronts trample the landscape

hoof beats of air

as waterfalls

launch themselves from cliffs

white-streamered

blown sideways in the rain.

And always there is the wind.

Poseidon's horses run free

on lava sand beaches

breaching the luster

of the broken surf

foam dissolving

and the sea becomes night

dark as basalt.

--Wulf Losee

Fifth September Selection 2012

It’s probably just as well that I fell into a coma

as I came dangerously close

to entering the classroom 

and teaching by example

which means that I'd walk through the door chanting

singing

reciting

dancing

inciting

invoking

proceed to the black board

and commence writing until

blackboards ran out and into walls

walls ran out and into doors

doors met floors

until hopefully others would join in 

to rewrite reality 

until the period was over

or

until our time ran out

Of course it’s possible someone would play God

and fire me first

But I'm pretty confident that someone else would go crazy

and pick up where we left off

--Richard Velez

August 2012 1st and 2nd Selections

Hachinohe Port:
hah, hah, haaaah!
The umineko gulls that perch
on the gateways and walls of Kabushima Shrine
are said to number over forty thousand.
At sunset
children in an empty lot
tickle the evening air
with the sound
of flutes and drums.
In open garages and
out on driveways
the busy mystical clouds
of red and blue
spraypaint shroud
dragons and samurai
apparitions
rendered in larger than life
styrofoam.

On this full moon
the horses and tiger dancers
must charge down the streets.
Surely
the Sanchu Taisen fesitval
is in full force now.
On this full moon
I am far out at sea.
Even the umineko seagulls
of Hachinohe Port are
behind me.
Only now am I
an only tourist
to the gentle sway
of saltwater and the
open whisper
of the ten directions.

--Glen Snyder

clouds stirred into
the moonlit
miso soup
of madrugada.
each footstep
placed softly
steadily
on the warm
back of
dawn-hidden
penumbra.
both songbird
slumber and
the bowl of
vegetable scraps
dropped gingerly
into the bin
of returning to
this very
morning.

--Glen Snyder

3rd and 4th August Selections 2012

The Fractional Full Moon

I got the word to go out and look at the full moon,

And I thought: It’s not time yet.

I was out with the old dog under the fractional moon

And I noticed there was no time to fully round.

My dog delicately sniffed a single rusted barb

On a fence verging on collapse.

Sometimes the circle is completed in darkness.

--Chris Gaffney

Question to the Moon on the Way to a Funeral
 
When you go about grey,
do you mourn,
in the middle of the day,
that those who are born soon die?
 

 Or do you imply,
 walking through the night,
 that we who wane are soon again
 born, and filled with light?

--Birrell Walsh

Fifth Selection, August 2012

29

When the Buddha woke up

to his snoring harem

drooling over their

pretty mouths

the mystery was gone.

This sacred coyote ugly

started it all

The royal escape

to see

the ill

the old

the dead

and

the holy.

So sometimes we forget

in our rules based on

sin and suffering

that it was

this band of otherly fools

singing at death

shining at darkness

reaching toward

the truth

that woke up our sleeping prince.

--“Rachel”