NIGHT TRAIN AND FLIGHT TO MEXICO

"Whoee!" yelled Dean. "Here we go!"
.      .    ."And we moved!"

                              Jack Kerouac


Tijuana, Juarez, Laredo, Matamoros, border
town crossings, pausing for garish "rose" tattoo,
large bottles of cheap tequila,
tooling topdown old convertible into the
desert, endless dusty interior wastelands,
drunken and aged "bonviveurs," mesmerized by
millions of stars buring down upon them from
the nighttime heavens,

passing esistential nomads hoping to
commune with the spirits of The Consul, Fred
C. Dobbs, Sam Peckinpaw, William Holden, the
old broken down Pike struggling to get up on
his horse, Lee Marvin the dynamiter, Richard
Boone sauced brain and wobbly, Bogie, long tall
John, wild ass Burton wearing his red socks and]
smoking four packs a day, continuously pouring
down the juice,

wild search for a definition of spirituality,
listening, looking for right desert ghosts, hoping
"the word," instructions, wishing rascally old
John Huston was here, certain that whe would know
all about this.




POETRY READING

aging greybear poet long in tooth,

telling new, young femmes "i'm working
on my obituary,"

subtle hint no ling time to play eager
lover suitor persona,

growing desperate, black early morning
existential shadows, musing,

"do i have time to discover who i am,
is it already too late,"

meeting attractive young woman, noisy
coffee house poetry night,

sylvia plath black, meryl streep cool,
carolyn olds sensual honesty,

tiny pink roses, tattoo garden, inviting
soft tender breasts,

filling out patient advocacy form, legal
refusal, life not to be prolonged, no invasive
surgery, sustaining medicines, treatment.




autumn tides


aging poet watching sunset bounching off
pale sandstone cliffs, pink ripples echoing
across superior, touching canada and beyond,

memories of loving young femme, soft
tender lips, sweet tasting like ripe fruit
weighing orchard limbs,

angling fresh brook trout dinner, golden
bodies, bright red and blue speckles, delicious
repast with wild onion garnish,

rose-mauve northern lights exploding over
fall horizon, signaling final wilderness trek,
outback odyssey in peaceful communion,

cherry nighttime embers warmth against
chilling winds, deep late musings sipping
whiskey, ancient cold tin cup,

knowing too soon black shadows giving
way to first dawn pressing through dark bare
branches, season of long white drawing near.




TROUT DANCER HOUSE


"whew, splake, there are poems all over
the place, eh,"

first bank refused loan saying, "it's
almost what we call sub-standard housing,"

troutman's abode fine sanctuary, home
for spirited saints, arhates, bodhisattas,
jivuklas,

haphazard carpeting of books, magazines,
papers covering floor, movie posters, snippets
adorning walls, sleeping bag, thin mattress,
couch corner and pillow,

bitter early morning espresso odors, late
afternoon garlic mad-rice stew aromas, evening
incense from "good talking" candles whisper,

perfect solitude, no one aware poet sleeps
in his clothes, does jazzy air-guitar step to
early morning country western wake up ballads,

cozy shell, quiet moments in searh for
beauty, listen to voice from somewhere deep in
the poet's soul.

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