4 Dreams

 

Holmes Holman

 

On the veranda at dusk, overlooking the magnificent grand lawn,

twin miniature ebony pachyderms trumpet across the slate, cross

in front of me as the dark simian leaps into my arms:

(V/O) Now I can solve the case!

 

The Broken Watch

 

A lotÕs going on at the Club, but as I step out and look at my watch

(Round white face and thin red hands) & --  the hands unsproing! In fact

The now single red hand pokes out the casing, like a wire or string, and

I pull it out. Upset, I call the watch company

To get the address

To send it back.

 

ItÕs not that big a deal,

the watch repair guy says. Hold

onto the hand, click and push

the casing and the crystal

should pop off. Then double over

and knot the string and poke

the knot into the little slit in the

center of the face, forcing it gentlyÉ.

 

Hey wait Š I shout into the phone, by now

IÕm walking through a manufacturing district

down by the trains. I donÕt want to become

a watch repairman! I just want to send

the watch in and get it fixed!....

 

By this time IÕm walking into a manufacturing/repair

building with a window in the wall where you talk

to the guys in the shop. A guy behind the window is

 on the phone, and itÕs clear from his gesticulations Š

this is the guy IÕve been talking to on the phone Š

IÕve walked into the watch repair store, although

it looks much more industrial, with a shoe type metal repairing

last covered with glue, lots of greaseÉ The guy takes the watch

and motions for me to wait inside.

 

Inside is an apartment which doubles as a childcare center Š the kids

are just leaving so that the woman whose apartment it is can take over.

The palace is a drop-in hangout scene for actors, and I see my pal Sal

Principato on the TV. Women flirt with me. A guy with no arms leans

his shoulder in at me, his way of shaking hands. The dˇcor is spare,

the feeling warm, welcoming, clean, collegial. A woman in a beanbag chair

beckons me over to fuckÉ

 

The Shoe Store

 

Busy fancy hotel shoe store.

I need a pair of green shoes.

The smart, attractive woman

behind the corner points to a pair

of green alligator shoes, clearly

not my style, so she indicates

the man up the five or six steps

into the real sales area, and she says ŅShuss,Ó

ŅshoesÓ in a strange, dark, thick accent.

 

The man is older, chubby, sweating, working hard.

He indicates the shoes on the wall, well, there is one

nice green shoe in my size, rounded, vaguely clownish

but quite nice, but its mate is blue. The salesman looks

exasperated and says he will go look for a full pair.

 

IÕm left alone and time goes by and time goes by and I go

back to the woman who points to the croc shoes, shrugs,

sort of looks over to the side and when I walk through

the door and up the stairs to the back hall thereÕs

the salesman in a hallway filled with shoes and shoeboxes.

 

We look through them all.

It takes forever. In the end,

I donÕt mind the green and blue pair at all.

 

The Blimp

 

While walking thru a desolate highway/mall/suburban area,

I see thereÕs an airshow going on. A huge plane Š four wings?

And a large, classic science fiction-shaped rubber blimp ship.

Which starts to come straight at me.

I run, but I canÕt outrun it. It hits me, swallows me up,

there is an explosion, IÕm dead.

 

But IÕm still here, and enlist the

parking lot attendantÕs help to find my car.

Where is my family?

People act like nothingÕs happened.

But I am dead.

 

 

Actors die so loud.

 

You can't aim a duck to death.

 

 

 

Born Orphaned

 

I was

A wanderer

I answered

The phone

 

ŅYou have come

here to dieÓ

Not quickly

Eventually

 

 

You

 

A home is not
Something you can buy

A love

Cannot

Be spoken

Here with you, singing

I write this poem

 

 

The Shape

 

We moved through seasons

Like fish

And we moved through the years

Like a gravel riverbed

 

 

Clouds

 

You must close your eyes

            to listen

Your skin tells

            everything

 

Mountain

 

We were in the Midwest

Looking for mountains

The wind couldnÕt go around

And there were no shadows

We called it ŅbedÓ

 

 

Last Night

 

A rain tonight, light on

            the screen

I turn to see you

Looking at me

A night remembered

Like a place

Indelibly marke

On a map

Of us

 

 

Motionlessness in Motion

 

Brought together

By chance and rigor

The poem and

The hand

 

 

What Love Is

 

I put out my hand

Your face is there

 

 

On the Edge of the Old Lagoon

 

Our boat, our boat

Nestling into the lagoon

Your lips

Nestling into neck

 

 

Greek Zen

 

Your eyes come loose

My tongue lies down

ItÕs body partsÕ parade

While you and I hide out

Behind the statue

Of Dark, lit for us only

Bodies disappear in afternoon

 

 

Almost Perfect Gesture

 

Here at the airport connections

            and farewells

But we live here. These tides.

            Our easy breaths.

 

 

Back to Back in the Day

 

When I think of how you

Were before I knew you

I canÕt imagine

Such a world

 

 

Signature of All Things

 

Under your eyelid

The poem never sleeps

 

 

Effortlessly Human

 

Crossing the street

I cannot do it

I turn in the middle of traffic

And come home to you

 

Little Africa

 

If I were young now IÕd be in Africa

IÕve been there three times

YouÕve never been there

We tend the garden and we wait for rain

Dry as it is here on the edge

Of the Sahara

 

 

Anywhere in Particular

 

How did we end up here

In this place, in this bed,

In this sky, in this tomb,

In this shoe, in this kiss

I donÕt care itÕs everywhere

Being here with you.

 

 

Dwarves Up Front

 

Get to the desk

With a ladder

Throw your long leg over

Cut desk to fit chair

Cut chair to fit desk

Cut desk to fit chair

Drill floor so chair fits under

Fall through floor to barber shop

Call it ŅMysteries of the Barber ShopÓ

 

Black Cat Heads on Platters

I wonÕt look back

 

Monkeys on Polar Bear

The grotesque growth

Follows the Grotesque!

 

The Nose of the Barber

The hat of the clown

The great suitcase of dreams

The curtain of eventually

Behind the Senegalese mask

 

 

 

Idea Seed

 

Plant the idea seed

            into the mind ground

and grow the fruit idea

            then get a stomach ache

 

And see which way youÕll follow

            IÕm not! IÕm in

Front of you like a poem

            lying await in the con

 

Tinuous presence it rolls

            a wheel of glass

That feels right on noggin

            & rushes past language

 

 

Internetting: An IM Play

 

Cheri:  hi

 Tom:  o my god it's you!

 Tom:  how are you doin

 Tom:  did you just get home?

 Cheri: modem...

 Cheri: fine, how was bxville?

 Tom:  did you just get home? 

 Tom:  bxvile was a total success, ty

 Cheri: ty?

 Tom:  tanx you!

 Tom:  sd, do the intimite details of my dailiness truly intrigue you? not asked testily,

 Tom:  just curious

 Cheri: they do, why?

 Tom:  it's an email thing

 Tom:  You've Got Mail opens soon, y'know

 Cheri: its so funny that you call me h

 Cheri: sounds like heroin and 

 Tom:  you: Meg Ryan, me: Tom Hanks

 Tom:  and?...

 Cheri: and 

 Cheri: and 

 Tom:  heroin and hope

 Cheri: a little bit mean but you're allowed to be mean

 Tom:  heroin and hookahs

 Tom:  no, I mean,

 Cheri: Meg Ryan Tom Hanks????

 Tom:  it's a long ways and so many details left out

 Tom:  it's curious

 Tom:  they are stars of Honey You've Got an email aka

 Tom:  You've Got Mail

 Tom:  Featured on aol

 Cheri: you mean that remake of 

 Tom:  Times Sq

 Cheri: I mean the sequel of that remake

 Cheri: I FUCKING HATE MEG RYAN

 Cheri: she s so wrong

 Tom:  did you know that Wm Honan came w/ me to Sarah Lawrence last nite

 Tom:  is Tom Hanks Mr Right, hmm?

 Cheri: I didnt know that Wm Honan came with you to Sarah Lawrence but then again

 Tom:  heroin and halvah

 Cheri: I dont know who or what Wm Honan & Sarah Lawrence are

 Tom:  heroin and hoopla

 Cheri: so who are those ppl you spend your nights with???

 Cheri: tell me T

 Cheri: come on T

 Tom:  Sarah Lawrence: one of 7 Sisters, the female equiv of Ivy League

 Tom:  now of course almost all are integrated

 Cheri: oh

 Tom:  The World's First Intercollegiate Poetry Slam

 Tom:  heroin and oh

 Cheri: oh

 Tom:  in bxvl

 Tom:  where sl is

 Tom:  sl vs nyu vs bard

 Cheri: who won?

 Tom:  Anne Waldman!

 Tom:  poetry won

 Tom:  a colleague

 Tom:  if I were yr boyfriend

 Cheri: WOWOWOW

 Tom:  and you were my wife

 Cheri: yes?

 Cheri: curious

 Tom:  we would have dinner with yr colleague

 Tom:  Anne Waldman

Cheri:  nice?

 Tom:  who seems to think i'm rather coolio

Cheri:  what hard questions are there 2b asked on poslam?

 Tom:  is it important cultural moment really

 Tom:  where are the great poems

 Tom:  how does it differ from beats, besides marketing

 Tom:  can we go back to September,

 Tom:  or ahead to blank?

 Cheri: why?

 Tom:  because the time in Canada 

Cheri:  OK: you hate the limbositutation

 Cheri: understandably

 Tom:  it was limbo before

 Cheri: so you want things closer or less close

 Cheri: passive limbo

 Cheri: now it's active limbo

 Cheri: or some such

 Tom:  Perfect Title, may I steal (said he)

 Tom:  Active Limbo

 Tom:  It's active limbo because whyÉ.I must go take a pee

Tom:     Can you  answer the question: how did it, do you have an idea, it would help 

 Cheri: it changed cause you thought that I would be snatched away from the market soon while I needed you more

 Tom:  perfect

 Tom:  except

 Tom:  it gave me hope

 Tom:  and heroin

 Cheri: hope for?

 Tom:  our living together

 Tom:  our love meshing life

 Tom:  sumpin like that

 Cheri: I know

 Cheri: you know I keep thinking about this

 Cheri: obviously

Cheri:  and I saw a th. today

 Cheri: # 3

 Tom:  one of the two?

 Cheri: preview

 Tom:  a trailer of the movie blockbuster soon to be released

 Cheri: lol

 Tom:  a romantic interlude starring MR and TH

 Cheri: yeah I did some screenings before to determine the plot

 Tom:  I'll bet those were hot auditions

 Tom:  so reality set in slowly after the cruel sun set over the Hudson

 Cheri: yeah the guinea-pigs liked it and apparently market-research does have its advantages 

 Cheri: Banff

 Tom:  The cruel Banff

 Cheri: Lake Louise please

 Tom:  The rough Banff

 Cheri: Please Louise turn squirm

 Tom:  Scram damn Banff boof

 Cheri: Louise freeze these 

 Cheri: Assfuckin Banff!!

Tom:   Wait a second now

 Cheri: lol

Tom:   kiss me now baby

 Cheri: Banff is kaputt!

 Cheri: kiss kiss

Tom:   before we drown

 Tom:  In the Brutal Louise! 

Cheri:  the case

 Cheri: I know English grammar theory much better than Canadian

Cheri:  dont ask why

Tom:   i must go take a pee

 Cheri: rotfl

 Tom:  will you wait?

 Cheri: hokay

 Cheri: piss piss

Cheri:  Pisses in the bushes in the trashbarrel

            pisses in the bed in heaven in the beerhall parlor

            maybe itÕs a shit who gives a shit

 Tom:  he's back

 Cheri: Tom pissed off the email

 Tom:  but the piss is long gone

 Tom:  in Lake Louise

 Cheri: lol

 Cheri: see this is why I'm reluctant to feed you Canadian words

 Tom:  poor Tom baby

 Cheri: cause immediately you do some little wordplays in MY LANGUAGE damnit

 Tom:  would it be better if we were together

 Cheri: better in what respect?

Tom:   what are you afraid of?

 Cheri: oh now you talk like this th. i met today

 Tom:  ouch

 Cheri: afraid. lose control, cannot stop things,

Tom:   that's what we've been talking about today, I thought

 Tom:  That there's no talk about our being together

Cheri:  things just went to a different orbit after your visit and now 

 Cheri: we struggle to live with this

 Cheri: and I can only imagine how hard this will be after our next meeting

 Cheri: I'm really just scared please believe me

 Cheri: it's not that I donÕt want to see you

 Cheri: if I was indifferent we might as well have some nice days

 Tom:  for me (can I say that?)

Cheri:  You mean I'm too self-absorbed?

 Tom:  we have gone as far as we could go

 Tom:  very painful

 Tom:  terrifying

 Tom:  as far as we could go, or at least as far as I could,

 Tom:  w/out actually doing something

Tom:   having it be part of life

 Tom:  not a rupture

Cheri:  you sound cranky

Cheri:  i want to get to know all parts of you

 Cheri: and you have ev. reason to be cranky of course

 Cheri: and I'm getting on your nerves, I know

 Tom:  I think I'm too simplistic

 Tom:  will you help me?

 Cheri: but that's OK

 Tom:  all true

 Tom:  let's start with this:

 Tom:  I love this

 Tom:  chattering away on im

 Cheri: good start

 Tom:  words roil and disappear

 Tom:  etc

 Cheri: but you want to see me and see me and see me and you cant see why I donÕt want to see you

 Cheri: cause you make so many accomodations, like you

Cheri:  YOU SHOULD BE CRANKY

 Tom:  what did you tell th. about what yr afraid of (don't have to answer)?

 Cheri: I told her that I'm so afraid

 Cheri: of

 Cheri: that

 Cheri: my

 Cheri: uhm

 

Cheri:  father would CUP my breast again like he did when I was 5

 Cheri: and my mother

 Cheri: uhm

 Cheri: would tell me again that I was lying

 Cheri: no

 Cheri: say lol

 Tom:  lol

 Cheri: you are cranky

 Cheri: you dont laugh at my jokes

 Cheri: you hate me a little

 Cheri: you think: why her goddamit

 Cheri: I told th. that I was afraid of th.

 Tom:  I don't hate you

 Cheri: a little you do

 Cheri: that I was afraid that th. would force me to do things I couldnÕt do

 Cheri: that I hated the ethno-drums of other therapist

 Tom:  oy

 Cheri: that I wasnÕt sure what my problem is

 Cheri: that if she ever said one bad thing about any man I liked I was going to stop th.

 Cheri: and that I wasnÕt even sure whether th. could help

 Cheri: and then some anthropolgy stuff

 Cheri: and she smiled

 Cheri: and said: you're totally right. You should be careful.

 Tom:  She bought that?

 Cheri: bought what?

 Tom:  what anthro stuff did you tell her?

 Cheri: how th. wasnÕt scientifically proven

 Tom:  is she smart enuff?

 Cheri: how different things work in diff. cultures

 Cheri: how afraid I am that if this aint working nothing will cause th. is the thing our culture chooses

 Cheri: to help people out of diff. situations

 Cheri:   so I didnt want to diss th. I just want it to work

 Cheri: She bought that?

Cheri:   bought what?

 Tom:  SD?

 Cheri: y

 Tom:  It's been very painful for me recently

 Cheri: yes

 Tom:  I feel better today

 Tom:  This is a good talk

 Tom:  "talk"

 Cheri: good

 Tom:  is it good for you?

 Cheri: th > I have no idea how smart she is but she was smart enough not to corner me

 Cheri: and not to make me feel like "unconsciously i didnÕt want to do th." like this other woman said

 Cheri: she took my concerns seriously

 Tom:  sounds good

 Cheri: and said that I should stop seeing her when I felt uncomf.

 Tom:  v.g.

 Cheri: and that she wouldnt think that this was something Freudian

 Tom:  no 5-yr old breast-cupping?

 Cheri: (if I left) but just normal concerns

 Cheri: no 5-yr old breast-cupping.

 Cheri: so I said: really? really? you're just saying that arenÕt you?

 Tom:  ......

 Cheri: she said: no. We donÕt know each other, it's difficult, maybe you wonÕt like what I say

 Cheri: nothing complicated

 Cheri: so I thought: 

 Tom:  ........

 Cheri: she gives me the freedom to leave so I can stay

 Cheri: she seems very down-to-earth

 Cheri: funny, normal

 Tom:  downside?

 Cheri: like she could look at life from a non-Freudian perspective

 Cheri: downside: she didnÕt say anything that blew me away

 Tom:  worth another visit

 Tom:  did you cry

 Cheri: almost

 Cheri: but then I saw a package full of Kleenex on the table

 Cheri: and thought: nah

 Cheri: NOT ME

 Tom:  atta girl

 Cheri: atta?

 Tom:  i luvs ya kid

 Tom:  "That-a girl"

 Tom:  "That's the girl"

 Cheri: did you cry?

 Tom:  first time back from the mountain I cried all hour

 Tom:  which is now 45 minutes

 Cheri: oh no

 Tom:  oh yes

 Cheri: poor lil thing

 Tom:  that's right

 Cheri: how sad

 Cheri: why?

 Tom:  I didn't want to leave you

 Tom:  this has been painful

 Cheri: poor little baby 

 Cheri: I'm so sorry

 Cheri: really

 Tom:  yr so sweet to me, tootsy

 Cheri: yeah but I make you cry  how shitty

 Tom:  you didn't kick me out, baby

 Tom:  or did you?

 Cheri: thanks for reminding me

 Cheri: I didnÕt

 Cheri: I think you like closeness more than me

 Tom:  I don't want that again

 Cheri: what?

 Tom:  next time I'll be prepared for distance

 Cheri: what? the French & Indian War?

Tom:   Bombs Over Baghdad

 Tom:  we can work together

 Tom:  and rule the world

 Cheri: us!!! hahahaha!

 Cheri: we couldnÕt even find the keys to the apt

 Tom:  makin fun of me again I see

 Cheri: no no!

 Tom:  must go go

 Cheri: I'm as forgetful I always forget things

 Cheri: donÕt go go

 Tom:  may I come?

 Cheri: please

 Tom:  you love it just like this, don't you, my tender heart?

 Cheri: you have found me out

 Cheri: I do 

 Tom:  prickly ongoing nowness

 Cheri: partly cause I 'm handicapped

 Tom:  ccumm again?

 Cheri: partly cause I wanna gain time for us to not do something wrong

 Cheri: I like it like this cause I prefer longing to closness and b)

 Cheri: cause I wanna gain time for us to not do something wrong

 Tom:  I breathe love in yr ear

 Tom:  yr right, I like the closeness

 Tom:  or, say,

 Tom:  the promise of closeness

 Cheri: and you should like the closeness

 Tom:  like next month say

 Tom:  why?

 Cheri: it's good 

 Tom:  and you?

 Cheri: I like longing 

 Cheri: I liked closeness with my old boyfriend

 Cheri: the daily routines, the shopping & cooking 

 Cheri: I really liked that

 Cheri: but the fact that it would take a while, if ever, for us to have this

 Tom:  ?

 Cheri: leads me to think that I like writing more than cooking & shopping

 Cheri: but as I donÕt want to fly around the world for all my life i want to change this

  Tom: did you cry

 Cheri: almost

 Cheri: but then  I saw a package full of Kleenex on the table

 Cheri: and thought: nah

 Cheri: NOT ME

 Tom:  atta girl

 Cheri: atta?

 Tom:  i luvs ya kid

 Cheri: did you cry?

 Tom:  i cried all hour

 Tom:  which is now 45 minutes

 Cheri: oh no

 Tom:  oh yes

Cheri:  yeah but i make you cry  how shitty

 Tom:  you didn't kick me out, baby

 Tom:  or did you?

 Cheri: thanks for reminding me

 Cheri: I didnÕt

 Cheri: and I think that you are like a cat

 Cheri: who wants to do their cat-thing

 Cheri: snuggle and that

 Cheri: and you donÕt want to fly around the world on your own

 Cheri: which is a good thing

 Cheri: and which is part of your appeal

 Cheri: cause I want to eventually give up longdistance life

 Cheri: but now you are a little cat

 Cheri: and I am a handicapped performance poet

 Tom:  meow, baby

 Cheri: who is into longing and writing

 Cheri: see!

 Cheri: I love you still lil cat

 Tom:  gotta go get my bitter pill

 Cheri: the Zoloft?

 Tom:  is it Sunday yet?

 Tom:  nah, zoloft ain't bitter

 Tom:  from the Heartbreak Garage

 Tom:  where all the Brokenhearted people go to park their cars

 Tom:  ily

 Cheri: cranky old man

 Cheri: I love you too

 Tom:  naw, just a lil pussycat ready to snuggle 

 Cheri: you really are a cat

 Tom:  bye bye all alone perfpo with sweet smile

 Cheri: bye om

 Cheri: ye tommo

 Cheri:   I love you 

 Tom:  thank you for being tender w/ me today

 Cheri: sounds like I'm usually not

 Tom:  no, it's different somehow

 Tom:  do you feel it?

 Tom:  at all?

 Cheri: mean

 Tom:  cornered

 Cheri: I dont know from what it would be different

 Cheri: I feel good about things

 Cheri: I think we'll handle things OK

 Tom:  our situations aren't the same

 Cheri: so?

 Tom:  that sounded angry

 Cheri: not angry

 Tom:  SD?

 Cheri: b

 Cheri: yeah you have to go

 Tom:  how'd ya know?

 Cheri: a reason to live with you to get enough of you for once

 Tom:  mindreader

 Cheri: just blackmail me

 Tom:  bb baby

 Cheri: b love


 

KATRINA

 

100% OF PROCEEDS WILL GO TO ACORN, THE NEW ORLEANS MUSICIANSÕ CLINIC, TEXAS CHILDRENS HOSPITAL KATRINA FUND, AND KALAMU YA SALAAMÕS NEO-GRIOT PROJECT.

 

 

 

I was dancing with my baby

And the waters were a risin

And the police were laughing away

It was zydeco and perhapsing

We was drowning and collapsing

The damn town was washing away

 

Wash away my sins wash away my friends

Wash away tender shores of New Orleans

There was a bayou  Now itÕs Ohio

There was some land now itÕs Canada

And donÕt we just love to call the Astrodome home

(Dome Sweet Dome)

 

And dear Katrina you fucked the dialogue

your Dark Interior Eye Revealing yr ol Bush hog

I was dancing w/ my baby on the watersÕ horizon

New Orleans was washing away

 

                                                         

Mamaw

 

Mamaw, see you in your kitchen headlines aflame

Bowl of cereal, toast lightly buttered

Radio sputters horrors as instant coffee cools

In your dear London the fear of dailiness

This war of the worlds where the aliens are us

Both sides of the dream in Baghdad, Florida

The hurricane this year named Big named Bad

Named Wolf ahuffin and apuffin but will not

And so in the midst of bursitis and cancer

Love and the tears of anonymous sorrow

Love and the work of lifting thin porcelain

To lips that will not taste the harmonious kiss

 

 

MORE NIGHT

Whattafug?  Decipher light, ok?
My eyes!  My eyes!  What about your eyes?
I dunno, they are hungry, I guess.  So
What?  Well, I -- gee, I "see" what "you"
"Mean."  Oh, great, quotation marks--why
Not sperm?  My my what mouth.  That sounds
Like sex!  Sperm?  No, sorry, sperm is not sex.
Sperm is life.  Like the night.  The volcano.  Of
Night.  They meet.  Under the great yes of night.

 

 

Poem

 

Over and over

The spinning gyres

Resuscitate the pain

And the hohummers

Parade in their delusions

 

I as usual am a Fount

Of Nothingness

A broken bone in the heart

 

If you were here

I would roll us

In a tortilla

 

And let the forest of night

The desert of day

The summer of eternity

 

Rock us in the music of sweat

 

Poets @ The Gates

 

Open the Gates!

 

You canÕt open them! (They are already open)

You canÕt open them! (They are already open)

You cannot close Ōem either, there is nothing to protect!

Close em? Why? There is nothing to protect

 

You canÕt open Ōem, you cannot close Ōem!

The Gates!

Totally unlocked, pass thru & not going anywhere

Totally unlocked, pass thru & not going anywhere

 

Make list of what they are, make a list:

            linen leaves,

            felt flow,

            troutÕs above!

Linen leaves, felt flow, troutÕs above!

 

Make a list of what they arenÕt:

            unrivaled consequences,

            natural surround,

            fry baby!

Not unrivaled consequences, no

Not natural surround, no

Fry baby! Fry baby!

 

In the vast orange library of your tears

            The saffron book is not there

                        Been checked out

                                    Long overdue

I am under your shoe              Waiting for you

 

 

Poems @ Gates

 

We walk the poems through, nodding politely, poems can do it by themselves

Unleashed they congregate in fountain corners, pocketed by duck pond bridge

Poems retire under the shadow of no sun, no gates, fall asleep and take over

 

BragginÕ Rites

 

I saw all The Gates today

Tomorrow theyÕll be gone

Kiss me quick

 

 

Sun Snow Gates

 

The snow knows

Just enough

Not to melt

Pillar of Wisdom

 

Put the 2nd Ave Subway

Through The Gates

 

 

Wrinkled Fabric

 

The burnt thumb of Destiny

The ironying board of God

 

 

Love

 

I will meet you

Under The Gates

 

 

One Way

 

There are many way to view The Gates

Rolled up like a newspaper

You swat the stars

 

 

Populace Recreation Art

 

I was there at The Gates

They separated like orange segments

Stuck in a dinosaurÕs smile

 

 

My Last Visit to The Gates

 

Luckily my last visit to The Gates

Coincided with The Hurricane,

The Flood, and The Big Fire

The Gates seemed soothing

In the midst of cataclysm

ThatÕs why they stayed

And thatÕs why I stayed

 


                                     

 

THE RITE OF SPRING......STREET
                                                              a ballet

                                                       IN TWO ACTS

Action/Art: Tom Kovacevich

Words: Bob Holman


                                  Act   I            spring street




                                  ACT II          the rite

prelude............musical introduction



      In a time long long ago people were drawn to a street named
SPRING. They came from all over the around the world. They came for the
ŌriteÕ...........It was said that those who could master the ŌÕrite Ō ,
[ even just to witness it ,  might get  something] would get whatever
you wanted......love, money, fame, immortality. you name it.. No
limitation on  only dream. Nothing too preposterous.      Of course
only a few, maybe none ever understood the Ō rite Ō but they all tried
and kept trying no matter what it took.


ACT  I     Opens with characters from every where gathering together on
spring street to interact, get knowledge, to create, to  just be near 
each other, to learn , to discuss, to debate,to scheme,  to dream, to
steal, to seduce, to love, to do anything to help themselves understand
  the secrets of the Ō rite Ō


ACT II      The ŌriteÕ.   What is not known to the characters who
gather  in order to master the rite,  is that there is nothing to
master. The rite  Ō is Ō. Nothing more.    Some found meaning, others
saw nothing, some lost everything searching, others found themselves
and love,  and discover  that ŌisÕ is it.


                                     the lights slowly fade to black,
house lights come up
                                                                    the
end




      an explanation:   in prelude  itÕs just music   then       act I  
  the Ō chorus Ō of characters all Ōdance Ō together on a Ōclosed Ō
stage.       then act II  on an Ōopen Ō stage the same group of
characters Ō dance Ō . This allows visually the gathering of the
characters in act I and  act II the characters are a part of the Ōrite
Ō some  drive into and some do not drive into the water, there by Ōthe
rite Ō.   Music accompanies the Ōdancers Ō in both acts.  IÕll work the
lights. The room is dark except for Ōour Ō lighting ie. spots etc. The
Ōaction Ō onstage will also be projected live on the screen with a
video camera. Bob will have a mic. HeÕll sit near me. He is Ōthe radio
announcer Ō.for an imaginary radio audience, but will be speaking to
the audience in the room
as though there is only a radio audience and not  to them [ those in
the room ]. Thus Bob will  announce to the radio audience what we are
doing. He tells the radio audience what the scene is like:  bowery P
club, the set , the musicians,maybe an imagery Ōinterview Ōwith some
one Ōimportant Ō in the Ōart/music/poetry world Ō He whispers things
like........Óthe musicians are tuning, the stage is being set, the
dancers are stretching, the maestros approaching, or all imaginary
stuff, a mix real and not real,etc.  Then something like :  Ņ and now 
act I opens with characters gathering on Spring Street looking for the
Ō rite Ō and ? , act I finishes, pause lights dim while scene is
changed,more water etc. [ this is fast ].... In between acts I and II
Bob talks to the ŌradioÕ audience again  about ? an interview or Ņas
the lights dim,we just saw ??, while I am changing the set etc. Then
whispers again Ņ and act Act II begins with Ōthe rite Ō  and ? Ņ. 

 

The breeze blew across the ground it was like it was pulling up the grass and the flowers and the birds were filling the bagpipes and the water was thrilled that enough of it could collect to make the rocks forget. Ah yes twirled the mustache with no face, itÕs spring again, I wonder why?

 

Characters: Hortencio, Ofilia, Esmeraldaroonie, Istanbul, Aldiborontifoscofornio, Lillith, Big George, Rachel

The Peace of Silence

Brushes up against

Leans into

Bumps into

Flips on to

Double back bend

 

Rocket Birth Day

                                               

O itÕs a day all right all night snakebite, a wind

smelling of change, a rocket rewinding

to its pad, a body shedding skin

for light, a see-through bone -- you

name it. IÕll not name it. In the dream

 

ItÕs now, sleepy

Mexican town and the gang hanging

round the broken-down car, turning

the corner so sharp you never know

 

What hits you when the lightning strikes, when

the comet settles in like a dusty moth for a landing,

when the submarine rises from the puddle.

 

I...  yi yi. So fast you clip a mirror, big man with

greasy pony tail falls down dead at your foot and

you shot him no you didnÕt. That is lie! Then what is Truth?

Investigate the body in the autopsy garden, but

it is not until the party where they bring the horse right into the

living room that you are assigned the task of leading

the horse out of the living room, silently acknowledging as the party

goes on swirling and raucous ratchet you have been exonerated

that hot Mexican day turning cool Utah night breath

 

Freezes into the life you exhale, the life thatÕs brought you here.

Kind of like a birthday among friends, when you

run slam into the body you were born in. Passing a shadow

on the stair, was that you? or me? I believe it was, is, you

mutter as camera pans slowly round till you are viewing

the cameraman, I mean woman, the true

mother, the eye, not even the eye

 

It is like seeing

but without the eye

 

 

Serra

designer skeleton, underpinning

birdsong. A long time for color

forgetting everything,

 

in particular the metal curl

 

 

 

 

Sound Movie #1

                     

As the President bounces on his head,

a troop of 1000 berobed gospel singers

take over the freeway, letting loose 1000

doves who mutate into a single bassoon

solo from Stravinsky's Firebird which

awakens God causing her to tumble

down from her High Chair, giving rise

to the gospel choir's rendition of

"Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall"

complete  with Jimi Hendrix guitar

solo, making God very very happy,

and the entire universe explodes

in a single LAUGH which causes

the President to stop bouncing on

his head for a split second he thinks,

"What have I done?"

 

Step Brightly

 

Step brightly brightly zoom young man

Push your way if you half too young lady

Breast the momentum quakes of vigor

Multibrack flares and a tiny relay

IÕll be your daddy tonight alright

How bright a river, how mellow a sidewalk cracklin

Serve up another portion of your redeye gravy there Mom

And drop the drugstore on your twinkletoes remembrance

ThereÕs always a bassoon, a hot hand in the p-drip pants

Every blessed momentous crash of fannygans

And all over absolutes, sort of waxy, but without a clear indication

Of how the churchmouse rerouted the cheddar

To contemplate the burn plight night light ship or shape out

While every valley delights

And the guitar wails

The whales with guitars that is that is

Pronounce you Land and Life

One tiny tear soaks its way back up into the eye glint

Where you once went

With the dearly nearly queerly beloved

First time in a yellow buffle

While meanwhile there is no meanwhile

 

 

Steve Cannon Bill Clinton

 

It was mobbed but he didnÕt show so we gonna get his ass here next

That Hungry March band really tore it up Š they marched their ass

Right out on the street Š Butch Morris and The Old Folks better watch

Out Š Sure we gonna do it next year and I hope he doesnÕt ever show up!

 

 

Thank You Haiku (for Mary Kite)

 

Thank you thank you thank

You thank you thank you thank you

Thank you thank you thanks

 

 

Time is a Number

 

That doesnÕt mean anything, she said, as the years ticked

by too busy to count meaningless count consumption activates

the neurotransmitter dopamine depression is rising inferring

To the limit to preserve slim chance to shoot through happiness

and come out the other side happiness behind us the frenzy

weÕve adopted in search of what we hope is happiness and

perfection is in fact a distraction mania a distraction happiness

distraction experience what matters not intellectual expectations

Again sing Happy! Raise your cups, Letters of daughters to fathers

 

 

 

Tu Rn

 

A candle and a wall

The light the candle throws

On the walls: shadows

 

Dancing shadows time itself

Caught by surprise & turns looking

Head on in to your eyes

 

The shadow shapes the flickers

Candlelight the colors in the black

The black background

 

The bountiful imagery in the tiny

Light allowed by the candle

And the night the bigger darkness

 

 

 

 

Why I Never Turn Around

 

You were inside the boat

I was on the shore

We raised glasses Š no music?

Hey! Drink, sing Š thatÕs music!

More more dancing and music, sing!

And then the blurring river

Soaked the moon, that silence.

Separation. What a way to go.

 

(After Po Chu-IÕs ŅSong of the PÕI-PÕaÓ)

 

 

 

You Can Have My Husband (But Please Don't Mess with My Man)

                                      --Elizabeth at 65

 

Speech Ed says is bad song we whisp or

Never the brain shall circulate freely midst the air

As when this one night standing precipitously agangling

 

Might these words sense make back when they would

Of a sudden coast

                        The hurricane of well up

Not a moment too soon not a moment

Too late as when the x-ray hits the fan lots of glass

Everywhere except in the Club of Bologna on Brooklyn

 

                        How bland food burps, to remix the scratch

Now it sounds like all new Captain Beefheart

Sounds like your man RL Burnside who whisped

All over the monkey of Holly Springs which signifies

Absolutely everything, a keen note of red wine

 

Suddenly itÕs very secure

                        Socially that is, except then the

Rolling Stones cleave in with that Have you seen your mother

Baby, standing in the shadow? crap and I remember why the Beatles

Always touched me, no matter how many corpses float by

Speaking of touching, we seem to be doing an inordinate amount

                                    Of it in our waking hours, just as

We do an ordinate amount of ŅitÓ in our sleeping ones

 

Try it. You sleep now, and I will watch your elegant form

Crack out of bed like a lobster sheds a shell

And you wave to me to come on and fly like a beagle

The very first dog in the Washington (NY) County 2005 Bird Census

 

So who cares if our friends run into bears, and our enemies spend years

With penguins? We who love the formerly extinct ivory-billed woodpecker, thatÕs who.

After all, itÕs six months till your income

                        Will subside like OtisÕs tide, which is when the secure checks will run in like herring on a highball. Your show will redefine art, defy the museum construct and still make people think things like             green    black    ochre

                        night    pink     punk    clam     dam     spurn   brown    flicker. ThatÕs why I On nights when youÕre waving I donÕt wave back even always. ItÕs so great watching you stir the air. WeÕre talking a gesture. WeÕre talking destination, IÕm in no hurry,

            vermillion        orange          blue.