Poem for A Desolate Angel

-->

This summer I read a lot of Jack Kerouac – first the Dharma Bums, then Desolation Angels, now I’m dipping into Visions of Cody.  It’s interesting to see how Kerouac’s writing developed over the course of more than a decade and how his spirit steadily deteriorated; in style he seemed ever more daring but in his heart he seemed ever more inclined to despair.  

I think something happened in the few months Jack spent on Desolation Peak. Or maybe it’s more a matter of something that didn’t happen.  He went in search of an epiphany and all he found was a trash heap.

So this is my poem for Jack, the Desolate Angel

 * * * * *

There comes a point
In Mind's development
When stoned or not
Becomes all but
Indistinguishable

It's a moment of both
Enlightenment
And grave peril

The stage has been set
Like hostages our
Fate hangs on the balance
Of a final act


To scale the heights
Of Five Phase Mountain
The question is
Can we ever be up
To such a task

A Few Things I Learned From Edna

To borrow a conceit

From the good lady

Edna St. Vincent Millay --

There are a few important skills

A poet must acquire before

He or she presumes to speak

On behalf of humanity 

East and West will likely 

Start to pinch at your heart
Unless you first learn how  

To pump with your ventricles extended

Wide open in anticipation
Of the oncoming beat
For as long as you can

And if your soul has

A propensity for flatness  

You must learn to navigate

Sightlessly just like a bat

Because the sky is probably

Going to end up caving in

On you sooner or later

Are You Social

Are you social

What’s your Klout Score

Do you host in the cloud

Do you disambiguate visitors

To your home page based on

Cookie or domain name

Do you tweet

Do you soar

More and more

These are the questions

That matter most

Whether you’re a corporate attorney

A con artist or a poet

It’s all the same

You must learn to reap

The harvest in these realms 

Of purely binary gold

5774 - A New Year's Resolution

It’s 4 pm Thursday

On the first afternoon

Of the Jewish New Year

5774 to be exact

And the resolution I wish to make

Is to connect myself

To the ding an sich

Or noumena or whatever

You wish to call it

In a more direct way

No matter what

Immanuel Kant has

To say about it

From here on out

For the rest of my days

Poem Written While on Hold

Please hold

For a supervisor

If someone in your

Household is living

On extended life support

Please let us know immediately

We’re here to help you

At your local utility

Our number one goal

Is to help you continue

Breathing notwithstanding

An extended service interruption

In your area

Please hold for the next

Available operator

Visit Power Your Way

Dot Com for more

Information

Or else stay tuned for

The relaxing music

We have keyed up

To play for you next

For Gus the One-Eyed Cat

-->

Gus a one-eyed cat

Climbs to the top

Of the garden fence

And perches there

As if on the lookout

Where like stout Cortez

Atop Darien’s peak

He surveys all he sees

With eagle eye

Although in Gus’ case

I imagine his glee must be

Even greater as

He’s quite literally limited

To monocular vision

Two of his eyes being

Devoted entirely to his interiority

It’s only with one of his three

That he’s able to savor

These more distant vistas

To the Moon From a Staunch Admirer

Here I stand
The moon's

Staunch admirer   

As a passing cloud 

Transmutes your glory

Only moments passed full

It seems as if there’s

Secret knowledge 

Passing between us

Or is it just a note of sadness

As we head into the last

Lap before autumn

You’re truly less orotund

But ever more diaphanous 

With a nimbus extravagantly

Proportioned on a misty night

Such as this

Suddenly the gravamen

Of the complaint

Is not quite as expected

A slice has gone missing

For all to plainly see

It’s a figure and ground thing

And where it's trending

Is the opposite of plenty

You might even say

And yet
There’s promise too

Of harvest moons to come 

Harvest approaching soon

As one howl begets another

It’s the nature

Of moon 

Overleaping the bounds

Of things merely sub-lunar

Dover Beach included

Transporting us onward

And upward

In affirmation

With the coyotes

Because the loss of faith

Is no big deal really

Compared to the gist

That persists down

Through the eons

From one follower to the next

Breath succeeded by caesura

Each of us howling

Our verses in turn