FAN I
Three blades gather dust inside a silver cage
where, in summer, yellow yarn flutters
like suspended birds
& the bones that hold me up to air have no body.
The cord, a tunnel for riversóturbines
churning and grinding, spitting out air.
FAN II
Out of orbit, three blades,
a trinity of air.
Water-smoothed stones
gather the dust of time and neglect
inside the silver cage.
In deep summer, yellow string flutters
like yellow tropical fish called tang
against the current.
The bones that hold me up
are not corporal.
Turbines churn and grind
shoving the air forward into day
& nothing more.
My inspiration, vocal
I speak of the air
& rotate like the planets.
2/27/89
Alberto Blanco was my guest poet at Mark West School, where I had a CAC grant. I think this one was written at Alexander Valley School. Alberto's model poem, Plant, had these lines: I have nothing more to do, and, A life without complications...I will scan the broadside he made for me.
This poem only exists in hard copy, thanks to corrupt old ASCII files. I've been painstakingly going through my old manuscript clip binder looking for MIA poems and adding publishing dates, as well as correcting dates written (when I can find the info, that is). I need to type it up. I think this was a memory from my Bahamas 85 notes. Ya never know when an experience will resurface.
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