Nude (pen and pencil drawing)

Not sure when this nude was drawn. Placeholder.

Koi (pen & ink drawing)

Not sure when this koi was drawn. Could be "79. So this is a placeholder.

APHRODISIAC

APHRODISIAC

He sits with his back to me, 

and his reflection in the mirror

watches me intently. 

Quite mad, his glazed fire opal eyes peer at me. 

He had been nibbling upon the mistletoe earlier, 

and was obviously quite high on its necromantic properties. 

The druids never mentioned anything about a cat 

getting high on mistletoe. 

But then again, he doesn’t like catnip. 

Aphrodite never told him he is supposed to get high 

on catnip either. 

No date, sometime in 1978

Buggins, a large, longhair, orange, and white tabby was quite an intelligent character. Completely nuts. Bob, who thought he didn’t like cats, took the cat when we broke up. I was devastated. But I was also homeless for quite some time.

. 

KAT HAIKU

KAT HAIKU  

Sleepy cat stretches 

his popsicle toes furrily—

southern sun bathes him.

Asleep in a dark room, 

my gut for a launchpad, cat 

settles in for a bath.

Crumpled prayer rug 

on the floor while the glib cat 

quietly licks his paws.

Cat innocently

licks his paws, again surveys 

the prayer rug, crumpled.

Lonely, straightened rug 

waiting for the nesting cat 

to attack again.

Cat lies in waiting, 

watches rug suspiciously 

for some sign of life.

Dawn, suspiciously 

cat, and I watch each other 

for some signs of life.

Winter, 1978

THE CAGE

 THE CAGE

The soft rush of wings 
beat against the steel confines 

of the prison, the sound 

of pealing church bells 

strikes against the bars,  

the cage that encompasses 

more than a heartbeat.

No date, found on a scrap of paper with the poem called the scars on my toes from 1978.

ODIYAN

ODIYAN

Afternoon winter sun melts gently upon us 

as we gaze at the shimmering ocean 

from the inner courtyard of the Tibetan monastery 

tucked away in the coastal hills of California.

Along the winding ridge, the American Indian, 

and the American Buddhist coexist together,

in tune with the earth’s rhythms, and today is my birthday.

11/24/1978

I was with Bob’s little brother, Marc Hamilton who was living with us in Cotati. Marc was interested in Buddhism, so we drove in my blue bug to various monasteries.
 

. 

Atrocity of Luminosity no efile

WORD OF THE LORD

WORD OF THE LORD

Clean-shaven young men on tinny, two-wheeled steeds, 

ride, dressed and suits of gray conservatism, 

Bible and Watchtower in hand, bringing to the suburbs 

the word of the Lord. 

no date but I do remember writing it.

ANGELS OF DEATH

ANGELS OF DEATH

Thunderous applause—

Hells Angels rumbled into the quiet valley, 

riding slowly, dressed in black leather and jeans. 

A Thanatos cult of crossbones, the ritual of 

chains, 

wings, 

chrome and steel. 

They paused for beer at the Lodge 

and were made ordinary 

in the mid-60s summer heat.

Hitching back from school,

I was a curious observer

as they passed me by. 

No date, but probably written in Forest Knolls

FLUID PROCESSES

FLUID PROCESSES

Geometric shapes, the antithesis 

of creative processes 

unfold in a sterile environment. 

We are organic fluidity, 

soft curves and warm places, 

neither sharp, nor angular—

we unfold ourselves, 

and create. 

No date.

Education no efile

THE SCARS ON MY TOES

THE SCARS ON MY TOES

The scars 

on my toes of childhood, they dwell, 

remembering hot summer, 

swimming hole days, bathed 

in liquid green of algae and cattails.

Willows and alder perched upon rocks, 

alizarin roots, and threads of garnet 

in the cracks, naked, 

nut brown bodies with skin of green water, 

became like the wise frogs basking 

on log islands, 

and the minnows nibbled at our toes.

No date circa 1978

Purification, no efile (Why did Google flag this blog entry as a server error?)

Love Song no efile

INLAND PASSAGE

INLAND PASSAGE

The mid-day midsummer sun warmed
the railroad ties that smelled of tar and creosote,
and the light gathered on the Inland Passage
shimmering to the west,
to the Queen Charlotte Islands, & beyond, to Japan.
Haida bear who stands sentinel
to the deserted longhouses, last night
your ocean swells rolled and rocked our ship
until everyone was seasick.
So peaceful now, with secret coves
forested islands and factory ships.
The dolphins appeared at sunset
and escorted us to port.

June, 1977 or 78?
Headed to Prince Rupert

Daughter's Mother no efile

Confrontation no efile

3 poems: Word Gambling no efile

VORTEX

VORTEX

Take me into your center 

or spit me out again. 

I drift in an out like the tide—

ceaselessly moving, 

my consciousness is nothing 

to cast aside. 

You exist, I do not. 

My logic and reason cannot deal with you, 

but that other self knows 

you offer the search I am looking for.

1978

SAMADHI

SAMADHI

cosmos merges with the mind
the universe unfolds itself
endlessly expanding
creates a spectrum of color
and matter imploding
the creation of matter
the soul's mud
& inner cosmos—
consciousness
within a vortex
harbors vast galaxies
or just a single atom
& the mind emerges
within the cosmos
of self and void


Summer 1978
rev. 1979

one of the few early poems to make it to the digital age.

Bird (drawing)

Snails (drawing)

About this collection of poems, memoir and whatnot

About this collection, the first poetry journal I found dates from June 8, 1979, so most of my early poems did not make it into the digital format. (I've since found a bunch of earlier work, no journals—hand-calligraphed poems for David Bromige's poetry class at Sonoma State, F 78), so I've moved this post from June, 1979, to Jan of 1978). I think June, 1979 was when I first began to take myself seriously as a poet. Reading the earlier, work I don't think I'll be publishing most of it, unless it's a version.

I'm still hunting down the polished versions, and will post them as I go, so check back early and often. Whenever possible—especially if there's a huge discrepancy between the final copy of a poem as compared to first write, I've tried to post the handwritten version below. If I have the date of revision, it's posted. But not always.

How I embarked upon this endeavor, was after an accidental posting for a poem with the wrong date sent it way onto the past. MY blog organized with old and new work, came to a standstill. I couldn't find anything.

Then I was opening up some old digital files, and began to notice that some pieces (if I could open them), were missing chunks of text—most notably the end lines. So the race was on to get all my stuff online. Well, maybe, not ALL, but at least the strong stuff. If I changed a word or two, I don't add a rev. note. But most of this early stuff was posted mid-to late 2015. If I had any other substantiating info, especially the handwritten version, I posted that as well. Very archival.

see
WRITER'S NIGHTMARE

Electronic Archives
Fluffing out the blog timeline (home stretch) Has a tally (2/2017)
Scanning crusades 2014-2016, and beyond (12/2016)
Posting old Photos & Facebook Memories (4/2016)
Updating Old Poems (7/2015)
Trolling Old Journals (10/2015)
Paper Trail (10/2015)
Old work, new vision (11/2015)
Old Posts, New Posts (2/2014)
About Those First Drafts (2013)
Culling Old Files
Milestone Blogger stats
When This Blog Really Began—Aug 2008
About this collection of poems, memoir and whatnot