Cuttings - September
By Mike Garofalo
Red Bluff, Tehama County, Northern California
The back door
bangs shut!
September gust.
tidy garden–
her doubts
tied in a line
Dead fox head
on the road's edge–
flags at half mast.
A wet pile
of dead doves -
Labor Day sports.
Quieter now,
the cooing of doves;
unloaded shotguns.
shallow puddle
slowly drying ditch–
flopping fish
Branches filled with blackbirds
Chirping time in swaying leaves.
Spent the hour, and could be heard,
Then disappeared. Leaving silent leaves.
A huge nest of
Wasps
In the Pyracantha's claws
Sharp and still at dusk
Broadway 2000
Cats closing,
T.S. Eliot's last "Meow"
morning coffee sans sugar
sipped in silence–
still her cold shoulder
Flip flopping
horsetails;
flooded field.
suddenly
she sneezed
into the moonflower
A rooster crowed thrice,
Splitting the silence of the night.
Distant, near,
Breath by breath,
Over the edge of heartbreaks;
Facing imminent death.
Arrested in a garden,
and dead in a day;
He left behind baskets fine
All filled with bread, fish, and wine.
[The Garden of Gethsemane; Matthew 26:36-46.]
Beyond
the scarecrow's reach,
stray goats.
Shriveled figs
hang
on the branch–
hospice courtyard.
Bunches of red grapes
shriveled up–
handfuls of raisins.
campus clarion
keeps the pace for the place
time after time
(9 + 11 + 01) x Jihad = (- 3300 - 4 - 3) + shock
full of seeds
sunflowers
face the earth
Withered vines,
crispy leaves -
summertime
leftovers.
Clear-cut
------------------------------------
sunburnt shrubs, oozing stumps,
raw bulldozer ruts ::::::::::::::
I caught my step;
Stopped, reared back, eyes stuck!
The snake was still.
Midnight–
the smell of skunk
on the southern breeze.
Bad karma bleeding
over centuries of hate;
a heartless eye for a blind eye,
a toothless scream for another.
We wiped away
our tears–
late summer sunset.
[9/11/2001]
Dust gathered by chance
welcomed home by the porch–
the broom stands askance.
Sacred Heart's steeple
in the half-moon light–
distant thunder.
Entering
the old church;
clear holy water.
Cleaning up
woodpiles
cord of walnut on the way ...
black spiders scatter.
Shadows from a slice of moonshine
Ripple down the sagging vines
Unburdened of their sweet red sex,
Withered, grotesquely bent, impotent.
Yet they live on, now as I:
Mouthfuls of wet seeds turned to chyme,
Reborn as muscles, eyes, and Mind.
eyes horizontal
nose vertical;
a mind stood up
side
down
put away the tent. my friend died.
why bother camping lakeside.
She passed away
on her journey of no return;
leaving her bottomless soul.
.....
While sitting in my den
one summer evening, reading and writing, my white cat, Ms. Q, jumped into my lap.
As I stroked her soft fur, and she purred with delight, she bit the edge of the spiral
notebook I was writing on:
I write, the cat
bites;
the spiral
notebook in hand
holds words
and tooth marks.
This cat in my
lap
purring, eyes closed, ears back–
fur on my fingers.
.....
Sunset settles on
Mount Yolly Bolly's peak -
Summer
has gone.
Killing
3,000 people
to
sleep with 60 virgins in Allah's heaven?
Men
have one testicle too many.
Vomiting
up
the stench of burnt corpses–
cheering
zealots can't smell.
open gate
saluting
daybreak
His rice field
ripens
in September sunshine–
he died today anyway.
.....
Oreo is my dog, of
Shepherd-Husky mix - three years old, in 1999, alert,
a wanderer, curious, a troublemaker, always hungry:
Oreo chews a wet
bone
shaded by the low arbor;
the flies wait their turn.
The dog pounced
on the broken-winged dove,
Eyes still alive!
The scattered
feathers
of a dead mourning dove;
blood in the dog's lair.
Cool wind at our
backs,
a whiff of summer drifts by–
the dogs' noses rise.
.....
just like a man!
The macho metaphysics
of a bull in a Temple–
Knight of the Creatrix.
.....
Lake Almanor is a large
scenic mountain lake in nearby Plumas County. Douglas fir, ponderosa pine,
Western red cedar and manzanita grow right down to the rocky shoreline. Mt. Lassen
and Brokeoff
Mountain, the remnants of ancient Mount Tehama, all volcanoes, loom above all at the
northwest end of
the lake. Lake Almanor is a recreational haven for families from the hotter North
Sacramento Valley.
Water skiers
racing by
Motorboats on Labor Day–
Their waves slap the shore.
Small boys
throwing stones
gathered from volcanic shores–
the lake swallows more.
Gurgling streams–
Mount Lassen's snow
melts
down.
From the
mountain's breast
Mill Creek, Deer Creek, Battle Creek flow ....
Feeding crops below.
.....
Restless bull
wants his cows–
gate locked.
Full moon
not up–
I stumble forward,
blind.
ditch Full
pumps Humming ...
Work Begins
The train's
blaring horn
runs beyond the tracks and streets–
startling us.
Sparrows bathe
and dance
in the spray of the sprinkler;
the sun dries their wings.
Lined along
barbed wire
shitting cows staring me down -
I piss and stare back.
Green Yellow Tan
Brown–
The wilted leaves fallen down;
Crunched by her shoes.
Daylight peeking
in
through the parted window blinds;
I pull up my pants.
Fishing guides
sip coffee
chatting about the Chinook holes–
trolling for clients.
Snarling heat
refusing to retreat–
Dog Days
Dragonflies mating,
hovering over puddles–
thirsty for loving.
After nightfall
the winds die away–
clear summer sky.
The fifteenth foul fart
rumbled down my bloated gut–
chewed chili beans.
Lightening
bolts:
cutting purple thunderclouds
covering blue mountains.
A few cards
short of a full deck;
he played well anyway.
The freight
train rumbles by: a few almonds drop,
star-thistles quiver, off steel wheels bounce rocks.
Logging rigs and river
roaring down Klamath Canyon–
cold rain falls.
The hungry dogs
bark at the back door;
the cat circles her bowl.
Leaf after leaf
turns yellow–
the fall of summer.
Good weather all the week, but come the weekend
the weather stinks.
Springtime for birth, Summertime for growth; and all Seasons for dying.
Ripening grapes in the summer sun - reason enough to plod ahead.
Springtime flows in our veins.
Beauty is the Mistress, the gardener Her salve.
A soul is colored Spring green.
Complexity is closer to the truth.
All metaphors aside - only living beings rise up in the Springtime; dead beings
stay quite lie down dead.
Winter does not turn into Summer; ash does not turn into firewood - on
the chopping block of time.
Fresh fruit from the tree - sweet summertime!
Gardens are demanding pets.
Shade was the first shelter.
When the Divine knocks, don't send a prophet to the door.
One spring and one summer to know life's hope; one autumn and one winter to know
life's fate.
Somehow, someway, everything gets eaten up, someday.
Relax and be still around the bees.
Paradise and shade are close relatives on a summer day.
Absolutes squirm beneath realities.
The spiders, grasshoppers, mantis, and moth larva are all back: the summer
crowd has returned!
To garden is to open your heart to the sky.
Dirty fingernails and a calloused palm precede a Green Thumb.
Time will tell, but we often fail
to listen.
Seeing with one eye and
feeling with the other does help bring things into focus.
Round things are very nice - fruit,
women, the earth.
Gardening is a passion to continue,
despite failure and uncertainty.
The empty garden is already
full.
Gardeners learn to live in worm
time, bee time, and seed time.
- Pulling
Onions, by Michael P. Garofalo
Cuttings: July August September October November
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Months and Seasons |
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Copyrighted © 2008 by Michael P.
Garofalo.
Green Way Research, Red Bluff, California.
All rights reserved.
I Welcome Your Comments, Ideas, Contributions, and
Suggestions
E-mail Mike Garofalo in Red Bluff, California
Cuttings: September - Hot Dry Summer-Autumn Days
Haiku, Concrete and
Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
First
Distributed on the Internet WWW in September 1999.
Months, Seasons: Poems, Quotes, Sayings, Lore, Celebrations, Myths, Gardening Chores
Cuttings - Haiku, Concrete, and Short Poems by Mike Garofalo
