Poem for My Brother (and in response to Allen Ginsberg)

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I wrote this poem after visiting my brother in Denver this weekend.  He happens to live around the corner from the Colburn Hotel, where we went for drinks one night (in the very same bar where Allen Ginsberg wrote his great poem Denver Doldrums), and I thought about Jack and Allen and I took this picture in the lobby as well:

 

Art is no illusion

For a poet who commits

To the present tense

In more ways than

Just one forever

Sparing no expense

Reason or rhyme

In other words

Not holding

Back in the least

In the love of my brother

No less than you of Jack

I suppose

An edifice (or two)

Worthy of Oedipus

If you know what I mean

Mythically strong in that

These twin towers

Have been built to last

Thus your poem speaks

To mine even though

Sal Paradise and I now

Must go our separate ways

Each prone to our own misreading

Part willful

Part not

And completely unknowing of

Whatever unworldly future states

I too may happen to move in

Such is my keen sense

Of the brick façade

And the interior space

Of the Colburn Hotel

So very well in the doldrums

You said but I say

Not in the least

But in elation really

And with utmost confidence

That’s how things stand today

Upon our subsequent embrace

Near the airport departure gate

So Sal Paradise and I

Now we go our

Separate ways

Each prone to

His own misreading

Both giving birth to new meaning

Mine full of hope 

Come whatever may

Poem for the Summer Solstice

Here is a slightly expanded version of the poem I wrote yesterday while watching the sun set with my wife on the back porch.

* * * * *

 

Now comes the first day of summer

And already time has stretched

Out to the horizon

Much as the clouds do

And upwards ascended

Into my neighbor’s treetop

Where this finial of light

Makes a last stand

To mark the zenith

Of the year

Short poem written as live blog post on the back porch

Now come the first day of summer
And already time is stretching
Out to the horizon
Much as the clouds do

*  *  *  *  *

The next morning I woke up early and added another short stanza to this poem which you can read here:

A Poem for the Summer Solstice

An Evening in June Paddling my Kayak Homeward on Weesuck Creek

The sun is setting

Just ahead of

Of the starboard bow

If I let up paddling

For ten seconds

Or less a stiff north wind

Will push the boat

Around and back out

Towards Shinnecock

Inlet with all that

Such a name implies

But what

A peaceful night it is

With the egrets

Lined up along

The eastern shoreline

Wading out amidst 

The creek’s detritus

Knee deep into

The outrushing tide

For whatever hapless

Minnows may happen

Their way

But for me

The controls

Were set long ago

And here I am still

Going at it and paddling

As hard as I can

Straight into the heart

Of the living sun

            

The view out towards Shinnecock Inlet

A Swan I Saw One Night

I came across the notes for this poem in one of my notebooks and I realized that I hadn't quite nailed it the first time.  There were still a few lines missing.  Here's the complete thought (for now).

A Swan I Saw One Night

A swan I saw tonight

Sleeping by the mouth

Of Weesuck Creek

Head tucked under

Its wing all but indistinct

A pile to the right and

Looking ass backwards

Much as I was

And outward

Towards the sea

Pensive and proudly

Surveying the night's

Indisputable truth

Not so much mindful

As empty and still

A Song Written on Returning Home

Look again
You'll notice
Signs everywhere
That explain which
Button to push and
Which key will fit
The front door lock

If you're lucky I mean
You may have received
Instructions that spell
Out every last step
You need to take to beat
A path back home 

Yet still there comes
A moment when you have
To take matters into
Your own two hands


There's no other way
To return home
Except by turning
The heart's cylinder with
Your own sweet hands