One Short of a Baker's Dozen
Michael P. Garofalo
10-20 Line Poems
Shells of Chevrons Fade to Powerout
Opening bell
echoes from the canyon walls -
falling rain.
The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks;
the shadows of trees traced
on trees.
I sit, still.
The canyon river chants,
moving mountains.
The sermon spun on the still point:
dropping off eternity,
picking up time;
letting go of self, awakened
to Mind.
White wood pretends he's a black
hood.
Crap rap, thumping bass; phony ass.
His He-Man's a'twitch, so he slaps on his bitch.
Crap rap, thumping bass; mean ass.
"Fucking" all this and "fuck" all that.
Crap rap, thumping bass; dumb ass.
Balloon pants to his shins, crude tats on his skin.
Crap rap, thumping bass; ugly ass.
His bros are the best, man, he signs with his hand.
Crap rap, thumping bass; pack ass.
He coughs up a puff and amps up his mind, crossing the line.
Crap rap, thumping bass; dead ass.
Our guarantees
that
Our cherished ideals will survive,
Our great great grandchildren will thrive,
Our monuments stand ...
Our guarantees?
This tree my great great grandmother planted,
This dog-eared Leaves of Grass on my desk,
This classic folksong on my breath,
This heirloom apple in my hand ...
This day,
no guarantees
for or against.
Good!
So we strive on,
Their hopes in our hands.
Live long enough and the losses pile up,
Till you're tossed away like an old cracked cup,
All stained and worm, dulled by time,
useless, leaking, not worth a dime.
Egoless, your flesh falls away, skeleton
Lost in Nirvana; lights out, all done.
Then, the Skeleton Woman drinks your dry tears,
Drums your still heart, and sings away fears,
Slips under the quilts and gives Love a Whirl -
Spinning, Twirling, your reborn as a Girl.
Forget yourself, crack the cup on the floor,
Speak in a new voice, the past is no more.
Ripening figs
summer half gone
cutting up peach pies
family reunion
The moans of the bereaved dead girl's coffin
church chimes shaking
hands
Lakeside shade a shivering boy
cool pools
steelhead trout
Her blue eyes closed lips quivering
he leaps eyes wide open
Red roses in full bloom scented morn
gasoline on his hands
coughing
The lawn mower jerks forward sputtering
blowing out 36 candles
a life half done
our lips smack
separating
our fantasies
scent of her flowers -
woozy
kissing her knee
ruckus on
damp sheets all askew -
panting
face to face
trembling together
we explode!
groaning
...
An eager face staring into the Rich silence
Of mirrored space devoid of mind;
Not projecting or connecting, but reflecting
Supreme non-fictions, Things
Naked as they are, as they are.
Inevitably, as sunshine blares on stones,
Green erupts from Brown;
Curious George swings across the mind,
Past junkyards of ideas, peeling metaphors,
Rusting rimes, and concrete cliches,
Into the Center of Imagination City.
We are as we are:
Twofold,
Realities and Possibilities.
I yanked off my
shirt and toweled off the sweat,
Tossed off my shoes all smelly and wet,
Stretched out my back on the cool tile floor,
Freed from the smoky heat outside the door.
I slipped into
dreaming about walking in fog
With mother and brothers in sand we did slog,
Along the spit to Morro Rock one March day,
Relaxed, exhilarated, refreshed, and at play.
We sat on the dunes
with the waves in our ears,
And sipped our sweet coffees all in good cheer,
Our toes in the sand, we laughed till we cried,
Then all sat in silence as the years drifted by.
I stirred, awakened, wondered
where I could be;
Inside or Outside; a dream, or faded memory.
The endless treasures of the
everyday,
the uncommonness of common things;
Ordinary mind does point the way
to unspoken wonders of myriad beings.
Whether, a leaf, the moon, a
plastic spoon,
or a shoe, an eye, an infant's cry;
the endless parade, zoom out, in zoom,
Details on details, thick, piled high.
Cellular seedpods pulsing pure
time,
Flowering brains clone families of minds
that revel in thinking to the Infinite edge,
agog over life, and love of knowledge.
Whether, a quasar, a hand, a
DNA strand,
Fantastic journeys in the Minds of Man.
They used the Bible
to justify slavery,
To keep women under foot, and children under rods,
To silence free thinkers on the hanging trees,
Making weak men into pompous demi-gods.
Now, a free people
think on their own,
Rejecting worship of passé tomes;
Looking for truth in human facts,
Reason, wisdom, wholesome acts.
Other scriptures
fare no better
When blindly followed to the letter;
As soon as The Truth becomes the rule
The realities of truths are lost on fools.
So strong men now
speak face to face,
Using wisdom, not scriptures, to design their fates.
three fat ducks
scurried up
the muddy bank
waddled
by the willows
stopped
raised
their wet wings
Flapped
one by one
in the warm sun
for fun
alluring
scent on her blouse,
unbuttoned
C
L
I
m
hard a softens
fast x slowly
her smell
lingers on my
lips;
catching my
breath
silently
closing the back
door,
our affair ends
And before the Wise Ones appeared,
Forty million years of ducks in the mud.
Blowing out a candle
ten thousand miles away
Cutting up a duck for dinner.
A dog barks at nothing,
a thousand ducks twitch--
winds of winter.
Has a duck the Buddha-Nature?
"Ssssshh!
Stop quacking like a duck."
Shimmering yellow
mulberry leaves
Swayed in the oblique sunlight and gentle breeze;
As leaf after leaf fell to the frosted grass,
My dear old friend, she breathed her last
Breaths. Weakly she lifted the pencil to her lips,
Thinking of what to say before the drift
Into her own unconscious depths
And the rapid sinking unto her death.
Long afterwards,
reading her last words,
My breath choked up, then stopped:
" Finally,
finished -
a yellow leaf drops. "
Encouraged by the dogs, and delighted by the fog, I took off walking around the south
field.
Feeling energetic, my pace quickened.
The dogs bolted ahead. They checked
out the mares feeding along the fence line, and
scouted in the weeds for gophers. They greeted the neighborhood dogs with
sniffs and stares.
Lap after lap, they led the way.
The tune on my Walkman rivaled my pace.
Along with the Eagles, I broke out in song,
"I'm all ready gone, I feeling strong."
Suddenly, flapping out of the fog, flying
low and fast, clucking - a pheasant. Frightened
by the dogs, it fled southward towards the creekbed. Minutes later, again,
another large pheasant leapt up and flew quickly away into the fog.
Blackbirds by the thousands,
swooping
into view;
here then gone.
((((The Jolt))))
Awakened
God,
Earthquake!
((((HARD!!!!BAD))))
(Shattering Glass!)
No nO No NO
Exploding World!
Buckling
Walls
ROAR!! Allah!
(((((Heaving!!!!! Shiva!!
Black)))))
Oh, No!!!!!
((((((((JOLT)))))))
(((((ROAR!!!)))) God!!
((((((((JOLT)))))))
Screaming.........
ROAR!!! !!screaming!!
(((((((^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥^¥)))))))
(((((((....................................................................)))))))
Islamabad,
Pakistan. 10/18/2005
(((((ROLLING ROAR)))))
Indian Ocean, Tsunami,
12/26/2004
((((((((((COMING))))))))))
Gujarat, India, 1/26/2001
(((((JOLT)))))
Central Taiwan, 9/20/1999
(((((ROAR)))))
Izmit, Turkey, 8/17/1999
(((((JOLT)))))
Afghanistan, 5/30/1998
(((((ROAR))))
Kobe, Japan, 1/17/1995
(((((JOLT)))))
Mexico City, 9/17/1985
((RUMBLING))
Tangshan, China, 7/28/1976
(((((((((((((((((((SMASHING))))))))))))))))))))
Retching Earth Vomits Up Death
(((((ROAR))))
((((Skull Crushing, Back Breaking, Gut Squishing))))
Collapsing their Futures
screaming thud after thud
into seconds of terror
moaning groaning
screaming crying
silence
ruin
destruction
dust
Merciless Gaia, wimp
Gods,
Devil Rocks
i spread my legs
nursed my sons
and watched the fucking men
and their crazy cures
(for what ails the healthy)
kill my hapless sons one by one.
communizm, nationalizm, catholicizm, fascizm,
capitalizm, islamizm, colonializm;
Creed after Creed
blessing gore and gullibility,
fetishes of gun and knife
hardnosed horrors
strangling then gutting
a better life.
From: bitter pills
Emptiness in Full Bloom
Leaping from the Ledge of Infinite Regress,
The Unmoved Mover fell into Formlessness:
Her screams were pure silence,
Eons of eons vanished in a second,
Withered trees bloomed in fires,
Polar mountains crumbled, rivers went dry,
Thusness scattered in sixty directions,
Space became Time, time became things,
Black Holes filled with Nirvana,
A billion samadhi mirrors shattered,
Death was baptized, Life was mourned,
Many became One, One only, only One.
Thus, the Divine Illuminatrix in All Beings
Opened Her clouded Eye, to see:
Flowers in the Sky.
- From
Emptiness in Full
Bloom
I was thinking about "the Absolute"
(whatever that is)
yesterday. (Philosophers enjoy
the rush of mental masochism:
bondage to leathery ideas,
painful flagellation with cutting words,
the humiliation of utter confusion.)
Absolute Zero - Death!
Clearly, a deep shivering Super-Conducting
Absolute No.
Then,
The Past: a second ago, a century ago...
Dead Time - absolutely kaputt!
Mystical Union at the Union
How
ya do'n?, winking
Starbuck's smile, pumped,
She pushed out a chair, join me;
I did. Very eagerly, as she could see.
Still reading the mystics?, she
Halfway teased, eyes wide,
Bending forward, Venus undisguised;
I melted, nearly died. Yes, and You?
Listened;
kept my Cool. Her clear mind
Spinning Rumi and dizzy Dervish blisses,
Obscure illusions from Eliot's Quartets,
Koans about Buddha-Nature in shit and piss,
folktales about Indra's Magic Net.
Loosing
my focus,
Fantasies flashed:
Tantric hugs,
Yogas of Love,
Sacred kisses,
Playful wishes.
Later,
we left for her home;
Both with high hopes, for
Encounters with Eros.
Shells of Chevrons Fade to
Powerout
Gleaming gas pumps
In the fluorescent night,
Slaves of the Almighty Dollar,
Pouring hot octanes
Into the bellies of Chevies.
Ding! Ding! Gallons go down.
Wallets open and fold.
Acid fogs melt steel-belted moons.
Headlights come and go, flashing
By the dry Lakes of Petro.
A dead end ahead, everywhere;
For us, for OPEC, for Fords.
Mantra from a Master
I first met Chang
San-Feng above the forest,
near the clear spring,
when gathering clouds darkened the day,
and Mt. Shasta was silent.
His long beard was black as emptiness,
ear lobes to his shoulders,
holding obsidian in his hand,
pointing to the sun,
eyes staring into infinity,
his long body clothed in silence.
We exchanged "hellos"
smiled and bowed,
a barbarian and an Immortal,
both panting from the climb,
laughing,
ten-thousand echoes
between our rocky minds.
After billions upon billions of heartbeats past
(for he must have been 888 years old),
I was so bold
as to ask the ancient one
for the sacred mantra of yore.
He lifted his whisk,
and brushed my face;
I could not speak,
my lips were stone,
ideas stopped –
I was alone.
Haiku
Poetry
Links,
References and Resources
Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Mazie O'Hearn, Robert O'Hearn, and Michael Garofalo
Quotes
for Gardeners
Quotes, Sayings, Proverbs, Poetry, Maxims, Quips, Cliches, Adages, Wisdom
A Collection Growing to Over 3,500 Quotes, Arranged by 250 Topics
Many of the Documents Include Recommended Readings and Internet Links.
Compiled by Michael P. Garofalo
Pulling Onions
The Quips and Observations of a Gardener
Copyrighted © 2000 - 2005 by Michael P. Garofalo.
All rights reserved.
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Welcome Your Comments, Ideas, Contributions, and Suggestions
E-mail Mike Garofalo in Red Bluff, California
Garofalo's Poetry Notebook III
Short Poems: Sonnets, Renga, Free Verse, Haibun
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Distributed on the Internet since September 1, 2000.
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Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
