WHERE WE GOT OUR COOL
Jazz within the sky
…gold upon this purple swamp
…this bebop swank
where angels sell their poetry
for that treasure of a girl’s sweet thigh
on the dew and damp
where river bank
Oh God!…hot days have left us here
to broil until the seasons cool
that measure, with an Autumn tear
on the face of every fool
who syncopates his joy with grief
and air conditioned Winter bears
upon a frozen leaf!
MEMORIES OF A SPRING EUTHANASIA
The jazz from horn and piano
flows and trembles
in those greedy notes of this ensemble
of wind and percussive
cussed chords in the grief of summer
glowing hot in late July
…a tear forms in my eye!
In my eye, this afternoon
bleeding art beyond a June
and whispered with a storm that day
when the dog of our dreams had gone away…
DOROTHY’S OTHER STORY
Among the highborn women of Oz
in November’s early Winter
on such a golden highway
marking frozen dreams
and frigid sex
in that fire breathing dragon’s ancient
from Tyrannosaurus Rex
…and given to a clown
for making all of the ancient lizards laugh
…a strange low burning thing!,
this cool fire
barely touched by warm desire!
this icy wine carafe
held within the fire circle’s ring!
IN A BRIEF TIME MUCH LIKE INNOCENCE
Jazz of the hot sweet lullaby nectar
of summer and its wild flowers
bloomed in tumult
of yellow and red
upon the fields of the living.
A few August storms will shed rain
in the future weeks
…roll on into September
and then cool.
Puff and wind of dandelion brain
when the dry of Autumn arrives
to scatter scarecrow seed…oh senseless fool!