tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47563638244603340932024-03-05T23:30:43.733-08:00Mokas AscendingJim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-79245584947018715682011-11-14T10:34:00.001-08:002014-05-28T12:46:40.969-07:00THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT JIM & PATTY'S<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1. Among twenty
gleaming pitchers, the only moving thing was the swirl of the milk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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2. I was of three minds, like a table upon which there are two cappuccini and
an oatmeal raisin scone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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3. The barista swirled in the muzak. He was a small part of the
pantomime. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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4. A man and a woman are one. A man and a woman and a loca moka are one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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5. I do not know which to prefer, the beauty of lattes or the beauty of loca
mokas. The toilet in the rest room flushing or just after.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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6. Commuter cars filled the long window with barbaric shimmers. The shadow of
the parking Subaru crossed it, to and fro. The mood traced in the shadow an
indecipherable cause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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7. O thin men of Rose City Cemetery, why do you dream of ‘dem golden slippers?’
Do you not see how the Espresso Blasters pour down the throats of the living
near you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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8. I know noble smells, and lucid inescapable aromas; But I know too that the
French Press is involved in what I know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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9. When the young intellectual put his foot on the coffee table his Birkenstock
marked the edge of one of many circles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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10. At the sight of my doppio oozing into a little cup, even the district
manager of Superbucks coffee would cry out sharply. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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11. He walked down Fremont wearing a beret. Once, a fear pierced him in that he
mistook the shadow of his nose stud for a booger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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12. The Marzocco is hissing. The cash register must be beeping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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13. It was Tuesday all afternoon. It was raining and it was going to rain. I
sat drenched in the Caffeine Meditation Garden</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-19140776964453092632009-07-02T15:08:00.001-07:002014-05-28T12:34:19.047-07:00SILTCOOS<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.6pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our rowboat has
drifted<br />
Into the middle of the lake,<br />
A willow leaf, fallen on gray wool<br />
Turning slowly in the rain.<br />
In the cabin window, your yellow shirt sings. <br />
Pans steaming.<br />
Fat birds collide in the wet black limbs outside,<br />
Skunk cabbage horns choke quiet.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Walking home from town
late, and drunk,<br />
I gleam on the gravel road like a ceremonial Chinese robe<br />
From a distance I see you,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Your face like the
circle of the moon <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Inhabiting its dark
box of sky.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-12638808582489764302009-06-30T12:53:00.001-07:002014-05-29T08:38:59.718-07:00AT MY GRANDFATHER'S HOUSE ON THE ROGUE<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Here at the end of the
lane of shade.<br />
The house is a mousetrap set beneath tangled trees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We can’t go on.<br />
Stay parked and re-examine the maps.<br />
<br />
In an armchair beneath the window<br />
My grandfather spots a darkness in the river.<br />
Deep green, rollicking, inhabited by salmon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The water sings the
long afternoon<br />
The song the prophets sang of old.<br />
His thin hair shines in the weak sunlight.<br />
Isaiah, Hosea stand up and declare God's glory <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">From the old leather book
on his lap..<br />
The wife has the garden club and is out for the day.<br />
In every drawer faded pictures<br />
Bite their lip and “wait to be asked”.<br />
<br />
My shy wife and I, empty handed<br />
Panic and look in the glove box<br />
For something to bring with us when he opens the door.<br />
Old beliefs, or new electric gifts, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While rapidly, beyond
the dark porch<br />
The old man’s chest is filling with roses.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-77056040809100983332009-06-29T15:40:00.001-07:002014-06-01T09:15:21.121-07:00IN THE BLUE WORLD<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /><span style="background: white;">Left
behind by the sunset, a car </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background: white;">Passes roses growing on the state line</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And hurries into the shadow of a cliff.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From then on the passengers' words<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Are beyond them, fixed,</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">A
star above the snowstorm.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">High
up the night is clear.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">The
large rivers of wind flow over the continent.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are many
stars. </span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Out in Oregon I walk beside the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In case of an accident, I carry my I.D. .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am the man who means something by my gray hat.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Late, the fog rolls in. The dogs and Frisbees go back to town.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">My prayers graze</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> o<span style="background: white;">ut on the sea like sheep or clouds</span>.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Roaming for hours far from my mouth</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Wild, unrevised, I cannot call them back.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Behind me in the mountains</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">The car is heading west</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Passing t</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">he numberless hills.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Everything I do is a kind of waiting for them. </span></span><span style="background: white;"><br /></span><br />
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Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-7685002377968853362009-06-29T15:34:00.001-07:002009-06-29T15:34:21.453-07:00At the House on the RogueIn summer my wife put up blackberry jam<br />And reached to place the jars <br />On the wood shelf in the garage.<br />Now the river roars white below us;<br />Entering the park our city fathers built this fall<br />It sees the swings and plastic whale for climbing,<br />Orange on the lawn and begins lifting its back.<br />I go into the cold where the car waits<br />And hear the river behind the house speaking with the trees<br />The impatience of the world breaking their voices into a clatter.<br /><br />Grateful, I touch the glass<br />The sweet food, dark children of August<br />Waiting under paraffin.Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-68498621095332874912009-06-29T14:30:00.000-07:002014-05-29T08:37:52.844-07:00FLEET WEEKA last scuff of slippers is heard<br />
Crossing the blue tiles in the night, and then<br />
At last the earth is silent.<br />
Well, we must have said <i>something</i>.<br />
From the cave’s lip at the edge of the valley<br />
A creek begins to flow again into the corn.<br />
The cave, after thousands of years,<br />
Draws a deep breath and exhales in a long cool breeze<br />
Its sweet perfume of moss and bones.<br />
<br />
Finally the whole of the earth <br />
Has ceased to remember the <i>LORD</i>.<br />
As a parting shot, the retiring deity swats the tourists off the volcano<br />
In a spectacular spray of bicycles.<br />
<br />
<i>That</i> makes the papers. But overall we're glad.<br />
This is the day our ancestors dreamed about.<br />
We can walk without fear through the city.<br />
The pointed remarks of the penis<br />
Are repeated openly and with gusto.<br />
Something to brag about, it is widely supposed.<br />
Tonight we will sleep safely drunk<br />
Under the walls made of flowers<br />
And wake up to a happy breakfast in the public square.<br />
<br />
We too are proud of our crowded harbor<br />
Where the fish-jawed mouths of alien ships, <br />
Laden as fat bass,<br />
Have come to visit us in our time from a great distance,<br />
Lapping up the rancid butter<br />
Of ocean’s cold claws, here to show us a new day.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow the sailors will walk through the town,<br />
The new arrivals, pleasantly smiling.<br />
Marked with a strange but nubile smell<br />
Resting, available, in the public gardens,<br />
A song from <i>ELSEWHERE</i><br />
Pinned in their mouths like a note.<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-22582261443726940802009-06-29T14:02:00.000-07:002014-05-29T08:49:26.572-07:00THE BLUE UNCLES AT THE SEASHOREThe river slows to a flat shine<br />
Here at the edge of the Republic.<br />
Look in the shallows just before daybreak,<br />
See the blue uncles, trampling the cattails,<br />
Their great coats flapping like herons.<br />
<br />
These are the ones who followed the white stones <br />
Out of the forest back in the day<br />
Making deals with the little creeks<br />
Dignifying even their own feet with medals at the end of the campaign.<br />
Now their ancient faces shine like weathered wood.<br />
The blood struggles to move in its pattern under the skin.<br />
<br />
And now there is trouble.<br />
An airplane is stuck overhead in plain wind<br />
Like a note pinned to the sky. <br />
It buzzes like a stalled bee. <br />
Trampling and splashing, <br />
The blue uncles bawl in the reeds like cattle,<br />
They don’t know where the sound is coming from.<br />
They think there is something wrong with the ocean.<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-947772697121299792009-06-29T13:01:00.000-07:002014-05-28T18:46:03.628-07:00THE SON WHO FELL INTO THE SKY<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.6pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">After weeks of dreams, pointless...</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">I stand on the porch in the cool morning <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.6pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #37404e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Watching
the hills light up. .</span><span style="color: #37404e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.6pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #37404e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">The
world is a girl</span><span style="color: #37404e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Y<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">ou made<br />
</span>She puts on her ancient bonnet in ignorance, beautiful.<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>In my hands I hold broken twigs wrapped in paper.<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>Old promises ache.<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
<br />
</span>Just at the moment where others recognize you <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>And rush up and touch your face and speak your name<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>I’ll be silent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.6pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When darkness comes my
prayers fountain up and find you at last<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>Deep in the empty blue thickened with comets.<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
<br />
</span>This morning on the porch<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>I bow once again to the Son who fell into the sky.<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>Bruised and battered, he confessed guilt to my sins.<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>Then tumbling into the wind, he was caught.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.6pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #37404e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #37404e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The speck of his body
is still there,<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>Red shirt and blue pants, tugging high up like a kite,<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />
</span>Pinned like a jewel, forever, on Your cheek</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-91078190697718679872009-06-29T12:39:00.000-07:002014-05-29T08:45:28.842-07:00PROTOCOL FOR ANGELSStartled angels, you see them sometimes<br />
Peering down from dark windows.<br />
Faces shiny above roses,<br />
They turn to watch you in fear and horror<br />
As you whistle a tune, crunch up the drive.<br />
Bodies nearly hidden behind window frames,<br />
Waiting in silence on the porch of prayer. <br />
<br />
One word from you and they scatter across the earth<br />
And when surprised, they sometimes turn to stone.<br />
And are transfigured, their bony feet winking<br />
Into the receiving clouds,<br />
You stand for a few seconds below before coming in<br />
You tip your hat,<br />
You show respect,<br />
You knock on the gate like a stranger at your own front door.<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-53135442150227375822009-06-29T10:29:00.001-07:002014-05-29T07:28:26.532-07:00WEALTHY AT LASTFirst the radios <br />
Brought in crackling sounds <br />
From the edges of the world.<br />
A few stray notes mixed in like ants saying prayers, <br />
Then real songs squawked all night from red paper birds<br />
That kited across the old blue sheets of sky.<br />
<br />
The whales in the sea had sung before, <br />
We'd had their tunes on vinyl, singing with Judy Collins<br />
But now they came right up to the seawall,<br />
With a fresh attitude, and roaring like zoo lions,<br />
Demanding lunch, some with faces like Alfred Hitchcock.<br />
The children said they'd first heard them in ponds<br />
Out past the outskirts of town.<br />
<br />
Then far away the roads in mountain passes began to crowd up<br />
With animals that had fallen out of dreams.<br />
Our grandfathers had painted them on the walls of caves, <br />
Celebrated them, learned to talk by singing about them.<br />
And somehow they had kept breathing all this time.<br />
<br />
Now suddenly they're here, they're coming down the ramps.<br />
Their leaders carry signs that explain their policies. <br />
<br />
And we too have been released.<br />
All the books made a little squeak and went blank<br />
Well, the animals are finally back in town!<br />
And wealthy at last, we take to the roads,<br />
Arriving at any destination,<br />
Dressed in new robes,<br />
Still strangers but welcome at last to each other<br />
In the rainstorm broken by sun.Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-31711444076837540302009-06-29T10:04:00.001-07:002014-05-29T08:48:37.390-07:00WHY WE ARE STILL MARRIEDIn those days the river<br />
Combed blackberries from its beard all night.<br />
The field by our woods was drenched with cold dew.<br />
By morning our room was filled with many breaths.<br />
<br />
By this time we were already married. <br />
The top drawer of the chest<br />
Ticked under its own weight as we slept,<br />
Packed with ice.<br />
I got up quietly to check.<br />
<br />
Yes, digging in I discovered<br />
Fish laid neatly in rows.<br />
<br />
My purple lips turned<br />
And found you in the dark.<br />
Outside a cloud shaped like <i>Myra</i><br />
Hung above the hill,<br />
Watching our window, unlit.<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-72882974196405386312009-06-29T09:39:00.000-07:002014-05-29T09:12:29.259-07:00NEW HOUSEHung in its scar on the hill<br />
The new house, childish as a barn<br />
A new colt dumped in the pasture.<br />
<br />
Curtainless illiterate rooms<br />
Display in freeze frame for the first time<br />
The ancient text of window and star.<br />
<br />
We find the exact middle of the thing and sit<br />
Beside our fire, where green wood<br />
Screams at us from its brick cave<br />
Like sour flutes.<br />
<br />
We can have no rest<br />
In this furniture.<br />
No sleep.<br />
The walls don't recognize us<br />
Gawk at us<br />
And will not leave.<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-42796993602992137742009-06-29T09:19:00.001-07:002014-05-29T08:44:50.409-07:00LOLITA'S MOTHERA particularity of bird,<br />
Your stomach is cabbage green, You are<br />
A bag of bespeckled moons, but zipperless.<br />
<br />
My lost ring you took and hammered into a crown on the anvil of air.<br />
You have probably aged, have certainly become fat,<br />
A dictionary noun<br />
Like Lolita’s mother, trapped in your house,<br />
Screaming into the telephone for pizza.<br />
Ironic. The unrecognizable milk-fed genius<br />
Of “three quarters of the way up”<br />
Is now thought to be a nobody.<br />
<br />
My arms snatch at you like a python<br />
And miss. You, peeking from your temple,<br />
Demurely spit on the wrinkled sheet of the bed,<br />
Mistaking it possibly for the sea,<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-59374056524982477982009-06-29T09:07:00.001-07:002014-05-28T20:25:25.210-07:00HEAT AND DARKNESSEncircled in your arms<br />
I am a sea.<br />
Small and far north,<br />
The tiny ship, heavy with flags<br />
Crawls through snow across the dark bed.<br />
Before morning I watch my heart go down.<br />
The decks swarm for a moment, then comes the dark water,<br />
And the radio goes dead.<br />
<br />
At breakfast under yellow windows<br />
I sit again in dry light<br />
Your hands,<br />
So thin they look broken,<br />
Holding your cup not quite straight.<br />
<br />
I put my ear to your wrist.<br />
Your other voice falls silent.<br />
Who can interpret the small cries of the blood?<br />
In your pulse I hear<br />
The secret place of heat and darkness<br />
The world below color<br />
Where molecules like clear roses<br />
Hammer in the sealed rooms of the skin.Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-84500684645628798152009-06-29T08:26:00.001-07:002015-06-07T08:21:47.325-07:00THE NEWCOMERAfter a dark week<br />
I awake in the beautiful old country<br />
In a bedroom watery with sun.<br />
<br />
From great distance the sound of rain<br />
Is breaking over mountains.<br />
Beneath the window wet lawns<br />
Descend evenly to the river<br />
Where steadily as clocks<br />
Carp swirl red fins beneath flies.<br />
<br />
Farther down, a man is poling a skiff<br />
Off the southern part of the landscape<br />
As at morning a dream is driven off the captured mind.<br />
<br />
The night is draining from the land.<br />
Sunday. The forty days and nights of Noah have passed. <br />
A newcomer, I open the door and step out into the morning.<br />
<br />
Breaking with joy, my arms fill with flowers.Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-1148005258768010752009-06-29T07:32:00.000-07:002014-05-29T08:55:04.261-07:00PEACH FINGER MOUNTAINOpposed by most, summer packs up and leaves the neighborhood.<br />
Our neighbor lady didn’t like the heat, never will.<br />
By noon I reach the edge of town.<br />
<br />
Taking the trail by the river, dandelions tickle my socks.<br />
The water slips over the pebbles, obeys the rule of God,<br />
Knows what speed it needs to make to get to the ocean by dark.<br />
<br />
Engrossed in its work it asks no questions.<br />
The sky tries again to explain the weather's reasoning,<br />
But I fail to respond as though ignorant<br />
The white fingernail atop Peach-Finger Mountain keeps my chin lifted up.<br />
<br />
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<br />Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4756363824460334093.post-67148101223681168602006-12-26T09:02:00.000-08:002006-12-26T09:06:03.271-08:00Patrick's Thoughts on Tips<br /><br />Tips.<br />Tips.<br />Write them down.<br />And though they're taxed<br />Please don't frown.<br />For you are blessed<br />Just to make<br />Cash for just<br />A smile to fake.Jim Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173851019847347525noreply@blogger.com0