The Left Column

Politics for Poets

Wake up!

I think I've blogged enough today.

Life goes on.

April 19, 2012

~ OK Now.

 The aspiration of perfectio
That muddles with itself
ruining everything that is just slightly
  flawed, like
    gold 
   that has a little nick on it
 that gives it character, 
               I 
    saw her with the
 broch that he made for her.
Her beauty, like the California 
  Springtime
      with the strawberry stands
    and endless endless green.
  
  At the station
   she heard it
    for the first time
 how she left
   how he felt
 how it had been a long time
      and it was Spring time again
  in his heart.

  He remembers it all but
  he can't recall
     the last thing she said to him
 but the California Springtime
     is here again.
 
View of a picture in mind
as a memorial to you.

What does it do to the air?
What does it do to the air up there?
Two guys on a mast. 
A scene of distant airships. 
Is that a pterodactyl? 
Are we in pre Mayan Mexico?

The guy who draws
he draws another one even though
                     there is only one.
He draws a third and then a tower
     that glows bright
         to guide a pilot in the night.

  This artist is the shy-guy boss
      with the big brainiac ideas
        who elevated to a strong position of influence
     and proceeded implementing
       his vision for the organization
          to bring together and befriend
      their hidden clients
        who many might have thought as pests
      but who provided needed revenue for the organization
    and really really are the best
            advertisement for the service that the office provides
         and complimentary with endless tides
                                   of affection
            and when things go in a foul direction
         they let us know.


 Guy with the goofy glasses
       smooth cut hair,
         the look of fear
        like someone is going to find him out
    hovering near
        the air port bathroom
      scrunched up against a wall
        holding it in
         afeared of the public toilet
      lost on a tarmac
            of the future
        just about to be swept away
                  by the wind.

  He's a dad's dad of dads
         of all dads.
    You'd walk three miles in the rain
         to fulfill the necessary chore
             that he assigned
      you'd drop off the package 
          after carrying it fifty miles on the
                        back of an antique Harley
             in a downpour
      that's who you are
            who you have become
                  who he has trained you 
                            to be.

  Special Delivery?
        A man like that descends from
                   on high
           with rocket boosters
              carrying a package for you
           The package contains a Torah
                which you are to deliver
          to your after school school
                hand scrolled by the pious
               of far far away and paid for
                    with love.

         If there were rain on the windshield of the car
            I'd see his reflection in the window of the door
              he'd point at a neon, say "go there." It's Wednesday
                   In Pasadena
                        where we saw the big ships of the air
           and he was giddy, gleeful
                            and he had not a care.

       If you could ever know a man
          smarter than him you tell him
           that you want to hear his charming stories
                 of his cousins and his family but
        he doesn't tell you them. 
                He stares long at the distant mountains
        the constant drone of the plane
            lulls him into dreams of Shekinah
                  I hear him call out
         in Hebrew
            to G+
           with small tears beside his eyes
      he can't know that any one is watching
          or anyone is hanging around
       a visionary like that
         what vision is he seeing now?
     Personal or scientific?
           Political or Home-economic?
      Does he dream of fruit fields emblazoned with sudden light
          as the clouds pass away from the sun (his idea for a movie
                                                                montage, he made
                                      movies with his mind)?
       Does he spy the ancient ruins far below the plane
         because, in his super mystic mind
            he can fly just along the surface of the earth, leaping fences
                                 of barbed wire
           his mind on fire
                 trying to make all of the people who can
                     connect with others of a far away plan
                            bringing it home in a social way
             to knit together the lambs who stray
            to collect the faithful on the holy mountain
              to purify
                    a spoiled fountain.

            That is the dream that I imagined he saw
      but I don't really know him at all.