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Issue #130, Front Range Autumn: Denver Botanic Gardens, Indian Peaks Wilderness, Great American Beer festival; September, 2006. With haiku and poetry from Jonathan Machen, Hal Gimpelson, Susan Coppage Evans, Sanjay Rajan.
night blooming cereus
unlocks it's aroma
swirling around sanjay and jala
and their seven cats
garages open
on clear september sunday
to projects inside
shadows creeping
moving from summer shade
to equinox
blithely tossing
coke can into dumpster
warm september day
quickly stooping
to pick up cigarette butt
while no-one watches
cucumber leaves
chalky white in september:
my neighbor's garden
hanging out window
dog's red tongue slobbering
over red car door
reflecting balance
bronze buddhas, blue copper sheen
botanic gardens
Morning (Hal Gimpelson, Colorado Springs, August 6, 2006)
There comes a time when you
let the past fade to safe pictures painted
with nostalgic patina.
There comes a time when you
stand up, walk to the other side of the room, and
wind up the clock.
Then,
open night-blackened windows
and bathe in morning's cool.
Let it flow into your room
on the 4:10 out of Denver,
whooshing softly at a muffled distance
before you ever notice of it.
Let it flow into all corners of your room
washing you till you become aware
that it and all are already here.
Let currents flow swirls around you
as you watch dense, stale air
be made translucent
and light, even as night
bows its translucent
to birth today.
FREEDOM (Susan Coppage Evans)
His flesh was white as the moon
His eyes squinting against the daylight
He smelled of fish and saltwater
As he stumbled toward land
Her skin was also a ghostly pallor
Grown accustomed to a glowing darkness
She turned her head downward
Away from the sunlit vista
He, from the depths of the ocean,
Sealed within the belly
She, from the bowels of the earth,
Confined within the ground
Each, in their own time, had wondered
If the Gods had abandoned them
They dwelled in darkness
Trying to remember the subtleties of light
Now, coughed up and relinquished
He in his time and she in hers
Shared the fate of relearning daylight
Within the shadow of a prolonged night
Their radiant whiteness remained
Like a remnant of the night
A vestige of where they had been
And how their darkness had changed them
Each carried a small piece of emptiness
A place within them hollowed out
By the abduction
And by the silence of waiting
That place, once tied with terror,
Now only offered a quiet solitude
Transformed by the memory of salvation
Of light lingering just outside darkness
To live as Jonah or Persephone
Is to live
With the mark of a mysterious God
And the certainty of liberation
no meaning
yet profound
this water gurgles
so many for peace
from across the world
yet no peace?
wilderness
i survive on
blueberries aplenty
chinese tour guide
repeats her title
one too many times
big whiskers
and big mole too
smile so norwegian
japanese smiles
on norwegian train
world so small
startling an owl
who startles pica
over quiet scree slope
no ipod
no cell phone
just me, the wind,
and my digital camera
practicing ancient
buddhist tradition
of walking slowly up mountain
eating gorp
setting foundation
for the chill of october
september snow field
october the first
sun comes out over
precipitous ridge
thinking of old friends
here on windy mountain top
the gusts blow their sighs
staircase
for a willing goat
this jumble of rock
visiting high places
before they get covered
in snow and ice
closing shop
for winter
leaves turning red
windy ridge -
nobody
short trail to car -
everybody
the last blue gentians
of october
succumb to my camera
baby in beer hall
pretzel necklace
the din of quaffers
peanut shells crunching
on concrete convention hall
beer drinkers abound
great beer hall echoes
with inebriated cheers
when someone drops glass
with distended stomach
i wander about beer festival
time slows down
hats of beer, suds
foam on top of foam
it's a beer friendship
typical beer gait
off balance, eyes blurry
headed for next booth
wagging his tongue
a man with a few too many
one ounce samples
beer drinkers
wearing dark glasses
in convention hall
dancing
to silent disco
we all wear headphones
too much mascara
the fissures of her face
cannot be hidden
becoming more chatty
with the beer vendors
after 17th oz
drawing attention
to haiku documentation
at beer festival
bimbos
bumping into me
at beer event
night blooming cereus
unlocks it's aroma
swirling around sanjay and jala
and their seven cats
garages open
on clear september sunday
to projects inside
shadows creeping
moving from summer shade
to equinox
blithely tossing
coke can into dumpster
warm september day
quickly stooping
to pick up cigarette butt
while no-one watches
cucumber leaves
chalky white in september:
my neighbor's garden
hanging out window
dog's red tongue slobbering
over red car door
reflecting balance
bronze buddhas, blue copper sheen
botanic gardens
Morning (Hal Gimpelson, Colorado Springs, August 6, 2006)
There comes a time when you
let the past fade to safe pictures painted
with nostalgic patina.
There comes a time when you
stand up, walk to the other side of the room, and
wind up the clock.
Then,
open night-blackened windows
and bathe in morning's cool.
Let it flow into your room
on the 4:10 out of Denver,
whooshing softly at a muffled distance
before you ever notice of it.
Let it flow into all corners of your room
washing you till you become aware
that it and all are already here.
Let currents flow swirls around you
as you watch dense, stale air
be made translucent
and light, even as night
bows its translucent
to birth today.
FREEDOM (Susan Coppage Evans)
His flesh was white as the moon
His eyes squinting against the daylight
He smelled of fish and saltwater
As he stumbled toward land
Her skin was also a ghostly pallor
Grown accustomed to a glowing darkness
She turned her head downward
Away from the sunlit vista
He, from the depths of the ocean,
Sealed within the belly
She, from the bowels of the earth,
Confined within the ground
Each, in their own time, had wondered
If the Gods had abandoned them
They dwelled in darkness
Trying to remember the subtleties of light
Now, coughed up and relinquished
He in his time and she in hers
Shared the fate of relearning daylight
Within the shadow of a prolonged night
Their radiant whiteness remained
Like a remnant of the night
A vestige of where they had been
And how their darkness had changed them
Each carried a small piece of emptiness
A place within them hollowed out
By the abduction
And by the silence of waiting
That place, once tied with terror,
Now only offered a quiet solitude
Transformed by the memory of salvation
Of light lingering just outside darkness
To live as Jonah or Persephone
Is to live
With the mark of a mysterious God
And the certainty of liberation
no meaning
yet profound
this water gurgles
so many for peace
from across the world
yet no peace?
wilderness
i survive on
blueberries aplenty
chinese tour guide
repeats her title
one too many times
big whiskers
and big mole too
smile so norwegian
japanese smiles
on norwegian train
world so small
startling an owl
who startles pica
over quiet scree slope
no ipod
no cell phone
just me, the wind,
and my digital camera
practicing ancient
buddhist tradition
of walking slowly up mountain
eating gorp
setting foundation
for the chill of october
september snow field
october the first
sun comes out over
precipitous ridge
thinking of old friends
here on windy mountain top
the gusts blow their sighs
staircase
for a willing goat
this jumble of rock
visiting high places
before they get covered
in snow and ice
closing shop
for winter
leaves turning red
windy ridge -
nobody
short trail to car -
everybody
the last blue gentians
of october
succumb to my camera
baby in beer hall
pretzel necklace
the din of quaffers
peanut shells crunching
on concrete convention hall
beer drinkers abound
great beer hall echoes
with inebriated cheers
when someone drops glass
with distended stomach
i wander about beer festival
time slows down
hats of beer, suds
foam on top of foam
it's a beer friendship
typical beer gait
off balance, eyes blurry
headed for next booth
wagging his tongue
a man with a few too many
one ounce samples
beer drinkers
wearing dark glasses
in convention hall
dancing
to silent disco
we all wear headphones
too much mascara
the fissures of her face
cannot be hidden
becoming more chatty
with the beer vendors
after 17th oz
drawing attention
to haiku documentation
at beer festival
bimbos
bumping into me
at beer event
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen