THE FOREST WITHOUT ROOTS

THE FOREST WITHOUT ROOTS

she is carved from the single root of a gnarled oak

that grew in rocky soil before she was born

its strength is it weakness

there is no room for it to sprout new growth

through the dense heartwood

locked inside an age of trees

she will stay until they rot

fall, and become buried in the mud

whole forests have turned to stone

as silica meets silica

a recognition in the desert air

sand pummels her face, obliterating it,

polishing it smooth like her body

there are no longer any features

just the suggestion of a woman

it seems she sometimes screams out

but the sand has washed away her mouth

the sand scours her mind like an ocean

all that's left is a fine powder

she stays locked within her own memory

can she hear the leaves of summer rustle in the breeze?

she remembers the winter when the rains came

and the mantle of mud covered her like a lover

but that memory passed as spring dried the pliant mud

trapping her under its adobe layer

the grass grows over her shielding her from the sun

Its roots devour the mulch until there's nothing left

but the death of the grass is hers as well

the throbbing wind scatters the grass, the crumbs of earth

until she is again naked and waiting for the hunter

insects rest in her secret places

she is mother to all those who must crawl and hide

they, in turn, devour her

when the rains come she begins to rot

as the cancer spreads,

the whole life of the tree is threatened

there are many trees in the forest

but the forest is without roots

another winter will soon see the fall

and an age of trees will end

ca 1982? could be 1980.

Early draft of CREAMERY CREEK

Early draft of  CREAMERY CREEK

My uncle caught a pregnant salmon with a pitchfork, 

roe escaped through the gashes 

and floated downstream where the name of the creek changes, 

but the creek still remains the same. 

Creamery Creek, Papermill, Lagunitas, 

fed by the Arroyo, Carson, and Crystal Springs. 

Inkwell, Shafter’s, and China House.
I rode bareback, plunging through pools 

on the floating island of red fur against the deep green water. 

Silver salmon spawn in cowshit at White House Bend. 

This creek is an artery that cuts through the valley 

and follows the veins up my arms to the heart. 

I slip off the back of the horse, grab her tail 

and I’m towed toward the opposite shore.

2/1982

Looking for old work to post in the blog, I was not expecting to find this, in a journal of poems I had transcribed for Napa Poetry Conference, that I had planned to work on, so dates were rarely added.

MARINE HOLLY

MARINE HOLLY
—for Greg Nett

We swim home to where the curve of thigh
dips into the dark throat of love.
Tongues twist like sleek dolphins.
Syllables slip from our lips
and you spill like a sailor at flood tide.
Already I am missing you, dear stranger
set adrift on the surging sea
with your blue eyes already anchored

on a far distant shore.

2/82
added 10/16

Poet sketches, Marin Poetry Center, 1982, James Broughton, Nanos Valadritis, Charles Entrekin, Luke Breit, Mike Tuggle, unknown,

 

To Joan Hotchkiss

Creamery Creek travels to the San Geronimo Valley, 

becomes Lagunitas, then Papermill Creek. 

Where it enters Tomales Bay, 

silver, salmon, spawn in cow shit 

at White House Bend. 

This creek, an artery through the valley 

follows the veins of my arms 

to the heart of things.
Pumping liquid through the valley, 

overturned stones.
My uncle caught a pregnant salmon with a pitchfork. 

Their roe floated through the gash 

down the stream where the name changes, 

but not the creek: 

Creamery, Papermill, Lagunitas. 

Fed by tributaries: Arroyo, Carson, Crystal Springs.

Silt feeds orchids,, azaleas, and huckleberries.

Myself, bareback. My horse plunging through pools, 

her back, a floating carpet of red fur 

against the sparkling water.
I grabbed hold of her tail 

and am towed to the opposite shore

2/6/82
This becomes 

• CREAMERY CREEK

.

RRWG Erotic poetry reading, Garbo’s