Depth Perception – Collected Freeverse Poetry (chapbook)
Post on 18-Jul-2015
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Dedicated to foreign friends with couches to share.
Thank you.
One of these days,Iʼm gonna sit down and write a long letterTo all the good friends Iʼve knownAnd Iʼm gonna tryAnd thank them all for the good times together.Though so apart weʼve grown.
One of these days,Iʼm gonna sit down and write a long letterTo all the good friends Iʼve knownOne of these days, one of these days, one of these days,And it wonʼt be long, it wonʼt be long.
Neil Young
Ferry Changes Tack
The ferry changes tackto let the seaplanes landtilts gamely fromthe wake the wake left behind
dragonflys werethe first to migrateflying miles in just a daydiscovered by someone youngerstudying ambered fossil chunksand specific DNA
cruisers berthed in harbourbarges haul the oretrains railing sulphur,prairie wheat and coal
ships robust ladensteaming to a hornlonely crewman leans past Jericholeaving Gastown cobbles behind
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Star Sand
today walkingon coral mountainwhere the bats and boars livei entered stick chaosinto spider tangle equationthe black butterfly dizziedfree snared quickly againagain catch releaseagain the web, again the skyi walked down the cliffside snared by the world
--
the tree hardened wizenedwithered battered year after yearafter year of wind the windbreeze turns to forcegale typhoon and its still wind and the tree hardens and grows
the heavy moonlowers lowers hits the seanot a soundno one even sees the splash
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where the wave was the last dayisn't even remembered or consideredas the reef washes up pasts and forevers
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Waiting at Jericho
Sailboats carving patternsdarters into waves which don't seem to bendLeaning over sideways nowto control both power and time
Flocking into clustersbrushing past the buoyslike galaxies swirling spun by translucent kite-stringsLeaving tracers to catch a gaze
The stone masonʼsexperiment invites me and strangers to rest awhileonly at low-tide when the waves releasea rusted box-spring fence andgives way to me, the barnaclesand the bay of flashing darters and lolling behemoths stopping byeach six weeks
Green hulled sleeperlulls along the dartersand sunnyday foghorn
Sailors waitingpapers aren't ordersandwiches and waitingwaiting, watchingfor the crackled wordwe're moving out
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With Secrets Intact
driftwood delivering anecdotescaught your hazel eyes last nightmoonlight reflected from two-thirdsa world away
you told me about the hidden cafeburning spoon and sugared rimwe both hold pencils and somehow remember to breathe
an arboretum afternoonenglish bay interludessecond beach under feet
our lives are fiction ofwhat we dreamed might bebut you must remember these momentsare sequestered not imagined
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San Francisco Afternoon
Waiting thirteen minutesfor a 2nd rate beer
sunday afternoonthe empty barthe one with the pretentious nametrying to be too smoothbut iʼll submit to comfortlow-slung leather loungeglass table top reflection
the menu has martinisbut i am drinking beer
this menu lists tapasbut i am no where near
not eating, just drinkingand thinkingsomewhere far away from here
thinking on a san francisco afternoonfinding her walk-upbrick and stone tiny roomredwood walls and chinese foodsomewhere near the Embarcarderowaiting for red-headed girlwho i ran from years before
leaving in a hurryand coming on too soonadmitting that in retrospectyou meant more then i let onso i continue
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waiting vacantlysipping slowly and sitting low
the menu has martinisbut i am drinking beerthis menu is listing tapasbut i am no where nearhardly can guess where iʼm strollingsuppose i am going home
a lost afternoon for mebelatedly exchanged for thebroken heart i gave youlike that foreign filmwhere the subtitles might sayiʼm erred on a cloudy dayby the well near the olive hill
but really nowif you happened byi just want an afternoonof coffee, weed and your tangled sheetslike times before i ventureddrifting literal oceans away
unsure if you even remembersalt lake nights in the avenuesclimbing oaks and sneaking intothat mansion thats been for sale foreverdrinking port wine in the broken attic
or maybe you noticed me out herepeeking through a curtainhoping to stumble like a coincidenceholding crocuses like missedconceptionsand faltered connections
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the menu has martinisbut i am drinking beerthis menu is listing tapasbut i am no where neari am gone elsewheresomewhere far from you and here
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Railyard passing by
journeys delayed undertaken tossedfields of weakness pasttrestle stretchlong past the hazel fieldstorage sheds of secretscul de sacs dead endin empty fields
glassy roofs volcano topearly whiskey with ginger-aleforthrightly pastrailyards of enterprisewaiting on a signalto leave only one
hard fought coincidenceleaving me on timeyou've won the anecdotesand left me the prize
double loadeddump truck grey blueagainst the greenspring fast jaded as though an accidentmistaken incident of mine
like fresh grass growingburst past the blackened moldhay bale cut for winterfirst browned - forgotten and settled to waste
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alongst hidden railway yardseen flashing pastnoticed by someonewho might live there or just be passing pastnot a strangerjust someone who doesn't make it byexcept when the train leaves orthe cherry blossoms appear to confuse the birds
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Pacific Coast Highway
Down the by-wayPacific coast highwayIt's my drivewaySince we leftOn Boxing day
We left on yesterdayand took the slow waypast Manzanitathrough to Redway
Drove to Phillipsville into the redwoodsAte cevicheat the haunted roadhouse
Headed northon New years daytook the hard wayo'er Siskyou hills
Took turnsdriving the curvesrain clouds settlewatch sequoias grow an inch a day
across the bridgesrolling southwayto pacificawe'll sleep well theretil the new day
Couldn't be greener
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onto Mendicinoand the open oceandrop off the sides
On the bywayPacific coast hi-wayIt's my drive way all day today
left on boxing daytook the slow daypast manzanitato redwoods today
then on news years daytake the hard wayheading northwardso'er icy Klamath falls
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Coastal Starlight 2 hours late
Coastal Starlight2 hours latedropped into darknesslate after waiting
i could wait until tomorrowbut iʼm ready to leave today
Nine dollars for small bottleof California merlotdrinking into blacknesscabin eerie tranquilknowing the commotioninches below
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Arching racers of barracudas
Arching racers ofbarracuda round the reefsilver fast in unisonchasing each other first
He speared a fishwith parrot beakenameled azure bluedappled like a sunsetthese swimmers never see
Giant clams are hermaphroditeand win at scrabble every timesnapping jaws slow at firstfaster when i break the air
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That first flicker of luminecense
That first flickerof luminecensespark from soggy matchespouting lipswatched you waitlike a best friendof a third grade memory
lakefront firefliestoo quick for jarsrocky beachand proverbial stars
you called me outto a distant placei couldnʼt recognizeas my own backyard
filled with malcontentand telepathyweʼve no secretssaid through forked tongue
try to believeitʼll make strife easierwhen weʼve moved onfrom young
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Night Lake Diving
freshly skinny whiteleaping from the stormthe 2AM moonlightfractures with the impact
the rocks below clarified by the glacial meltjagged but deep enoughfor divers and explorersescaping ennui and malaise
on the shore bobbing over rocksshook freed from constraintsthe absence revealsno barriers for the lubricious and clumsy emerging from the coldto stumble on the wretched shorewhere bullets won't start a fireonly tinder and a sparkis all i can stammer
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Temporary Lighthouses
Beyond the aspensthree of us together fast
Please let me go nowthe tension is justa bit too much to last
No no she says nowlet me go he goesjust wanderinto trees
There you say nowgo on togethertwos easierthan we three
Into the aspensdisappearedwhite birch mapleand mystery
The three of usnot too soon she sang againriding free
Swerved around rightcan't bump the road on the empty colddesert night
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Windy daysand beach front fireslighthouses calling you away
I don't mindsuppose it's betteri'll keep a mind to remembernights together in the aspen grovebefore foothill evening turned into today
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Coastal Starlight
Coastal starlightrolling alrightthrough the moonlightPast the cedar trees
Puget soundin the distancebeaches covered withweathered dreams
Sammamish crescentChuckanut parkwaybottle of klickitat red
one long toke nowon the back benchas we pull throughthe darkened hill
drifting nicelyand watching closelywhite volcanos up ahead
i've read about all these mountainsin books by snyder, old smoke blanchard and poor dead jean
Riprap pathwaysAdams gleamingin distant haze up'head
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Junipers and scrub oakgive way to spruce and river camps where explorers lay
Ahh Cascadian bywaysCoastal starlightWith bottle of beside meof Klickatat red
I've watched the junipersgive way to cedarsand seen the volcanosfade away
If there no mudslidesor strange derailmentssoon i'll be back home in bed
I stopped in Portland for the Crystal Ballroomand in Centraliafor some beer
Left Olympiafar behind meand Fairhaven'sjust getting near
I'll trust that you'll be waitingat the grey stationterminal at main
Engine running
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three in th'morningtake me homei won't complain
terminal citygets a bit sketchyand i'd rathernot get robbed
i am worn nowbut feeling happywaiting in stationsand railing lines
i've not forgottenthe columbia gorgeat those momentsb'fore sunset time
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Comfortably Lonely, Cabin Porch
Comfortably lonely, cabin porchhard back bookfoggy overslept hard back chair
backpack hangs ona wooden pegemptybut for deja vu
trembling handsloosening clothesfingers slippingunderside the clasp
coarse canvas dreamand well oiled leather bootswith high archesmoving away from here
even before paintingthe rooms onto a circus tentthe tall poles cantileveredand kids with summer suntan lineson open feet
saguaro sunset sceneryflash by in a clackety-thwack 16mm printGrandpa coughing, mejotting down unessentials,collecting pottery along the way
the movement is key i recollectwhile stopping still andtucking my bootsunder a hearty mantle
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between night and light
the space betweennight and lightwhen bats dive likefiery planes
battles over bordersfoggy lines on faded mapsdrawn by someone elseaway for reasonsforgotten, arbitraryfalse
rusting wreckageovergrown by by jungle vinesreclaiming tools of sadnessseeking a final vestige of dignityfrom deathly, slow grip
woodpeckers clamoringwaking bats firebombinguntil sunrise
–Lk Crescent 2004
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One way these tracks
One way these tracksrun directly into the elevatorthen somehow into Mt. Hood
turning eaststopped by a wooden fencewith a dam behindColumbia dauntedbut roiling
stunted but strong yetregressed to measures, velocityand potentialthe water spreads thinner then goldevery fiefdom wants its piece to bridge,tame and dam
rocks and measurementsobserve the follysilt builds behindwater cools aheadmovingbeyond memoriesof what wasnʼt left behindof drowned villagesand artifacts uncoveredentombed and enshrinedonly the tugboats come close
barge driftingsilos waittrains slip pastColumbia slows
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i’ve seen the pathway (tired traveler)
i've seen the pathwaytis cobbled rocky and twistedarranged enough to confuseand misleadbut it leads to the finest landsyou've ever dreamed
if you manage to standand can navigate by Orionyou'll arrive in the bayleft by bandits and seerswhere abundance and tranquillity may awaitso replenish your weighted mindtired traveler and soak in the nectar of anotherdelirious day
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Mona Atlantico
Si si si you'd sayand disappear through a doorme looking -finding you alight and aflitter anxious to avoid your iodine stareits not i that i try to please you - i just dosomething always new
Interludes and anecdotesfrom Florida or yesterdays' shorelines.you pull the blanket over over your shoulderin the aftermathvanish into dreams of olives, mountainsides &Manzanita sunsets.
Yes indeed i've found youand you are my Andalusian girl today,Catalan girl tomorrow
Si si si you sayin another terrace cafe, another beer with another namesure enough, you've met a new friend but are always half of me
Tell me Monahow did it make you feel?That time in Esposende?was it more than the night train ride into Corunaall night blowing smoke from the only open windowfrom time to timered wine with strangers
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After sleepless daysand forgotten nightssandy strolls, missed turns and just caught trainsApril palms and cascading church bells, crumbled castillos and fields of the cows
Inspired by your tenacitystunned by the honestyconfused by the intensity, Mostly thrilled by your smile from Malaga to Granadathrough tunnels, over bridges and crossing waterways from books
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Entire Coast of Portugal
red roofs falling cliff high into foaming waves
old man watches sheepwho don't seem to mindwondering where atlanticoturns into the inland sea
the signs say no tractors or this way to ferries
brick stoves & clay ovenswidely shown the man with the donkey wanders by
she's happiest when moving fastand straightor eating small tasty thing with sauces
"you are saying these strange things to me but i don't know why"
concrete poleshouses thick and whitered clay courtyardswrapped in blue tilesguarded by saints ot forgotten namesprotecting palmsmelted bold yellow wallschurraquerias in empty yardswood cut even, stacked in jumbles
posters of singers and toros
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workmen piling info tipicoearly lunch, dried codchicken blood, sardines,
waving she doesn't watch crossing shady lane with tiny carsthe dog with the shortest legs.
adieu Karol in colorCerverjai dark, vino blancoshe opens it cold & hands itsits down.obrigato
in the back of the tipicothe swarthy introducesSaint Virgilio of Figuero de FozPatron of wanderers, spicy clams and cold sangriaeyes like grutas of secretsgrottos holding reflection of monoliths and winters lasting into spring
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Painting Europa
The old Portuguese men in two button-up sweaters and driv-ing caps so old that when taken off, the forehead stands gleaming white against the baseball-glove-leather texture of the faces.
To tell you about skinny alleys with rows of habitations, col-ors as creative and fresh as I couldʼve imaged. Iris purple and lichen green, the inside fruit of pomegranate.
Me losing my glasses on day four of a 21 day trip. Scenery becoming hazier as the days go by, L. leads me by the elbow in Sitges or Lagos, I can see the things just not where they are.
Tile everywhere, sometimes in pictures, sometimes in words, sometimes just deep, rich, unique color. Built forever ago or yesterday.
Me up in night on a dark veranda swirling paints into dark windows with wrought iron rails, dangling vines and chipped archways.
Standing atop Arc de Triumph with the young one spiraling around the view of Paris avenues of my imagination spoked out everyway towards possibilities and exploration. Sketch-ing madly, drafting in a thousand buildings.
Night trains through Spain in a compartment with four Cata-lan oldsters – digging my paintings and scrapbook. Sneak-ing away with to find a train bathroom in which the window opens for exhaling Amsterdam amnesia haze.
Cheap bottles of wine and exquisite picnics on empty beaches – bring me your finest meats and cheeses and take me to empty castles to clamber about!
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Henry’s Tranquility
Navigating into nowherespeculating on something better than perfectprince of confusionor driven by prideplease tell me it wasn't for greed, spices or popejust to gothe cove protected heavy ships from plundersthe point at the edge of the all anyone knowsat this moment
why didn't you turn rightdancing with Galacian girls or left into well enough now it's the ghost of you and Cristobolme and two earnest germanswatching everything heading into somewhereno longer new.
the wind blows the samesometimes we waitin Aljeezer patching holes.sometimes we make it nowhereNavigate elsewhere henry maybe draw me a lineto divide somethingand don't compare hard
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Santiago, April
Skin of bright olives, quizzical eyes reflection flashing on a bike with breador bookscold on rocky step ledgethree spires fade into drizzly twilightthe bells ring again
Walking sticks clunking into a squarevia sacred stairsthe bells ringing in discordand griefas the Galacian girls laugh down a impossible alleytwisted with greens and orangewhere las templars hunkeredhiding three sets of bonesthrough generations of darkness. now in a silver box of seashells.
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Off the Brittany Seacoast
(For Tristan Colbriere, The End, La Fin)
Oakum planks rowboatBohemian seafarersThe current pulls towards easy an strideOars pull - locks wobble,dynamics of hollowness and displacementExpecting the inclementseeking a forward curl
You and your seafaring dreamsDo you not know about the fever that levels so many?Deep, gritty slick bottom appearedbefore no gracious hostonly grey curious gaze
Or a foreign plot lined with the greyest stonesShipmates and explorers align asideonly to fadeNigh seamate, hold fastseek the cove and savourThe salty bracing air dear shipmate
Ships lean, storms crush, sailors scramble and the orphans walkMast arched and stretched againstThe grain.Storms pull fro and ships seek harborGrimy oakumed planks stuffed with twine –tapped with purposeful hammerThe hollow serves no purposewith naught a shoreman aboard
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Pulling to the strait
Pulling to the straitFinding St. Chrispothyouʼve freeloading aboard againsteamrollers and stowedin amongst the shipping crates
under rocks youʼve tuggedat barnacles underseayour react to zinc electrolysisof a magnitudealmost impossible to resist
Before when the desert was floodedunder rings like steppes of ebbing tidescataclysmic eventsindeed water scrapes over the land
the emptinessdry left behindis what i suppose is belowlook thru the portholes to the absenceof thought dimensionand turmoil
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Aye Carpaethia
Aye Carpaethiasublime vision of graceyou came alongsidemy listing hull
Grabbed the briney ropeand you pulled me towardsthe sheltered cove
Flotilla of flotsambounding with the swellmy heart achingwondering where to pull
Inhibitions and accoladesrescue me to pierwhen the wreckage splitme in blinding feari yearned for youruncommon gazethoughtful twineand restive ways
curled in a quilthandmade bya mysterious soulmy disasternow averteddespite impending gale
forced windsand the endsof existenceas itʼs told
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by fore-bearers and liarswho nearly took strolllong slowlyglancing only once behindchanging lines sometimesexceeding what youʼve been told
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Bridge
i canʼt cross into new york cityacross the george washington bridge withoutthinking about all the letters i meant to write to peoplefilled faces hid behind
through bronx filled places and streets with placesas indifferent as you and mefinding beauty in dirty brick, sweaty shows and musty shitthe world still spinning faststory in behind those barsbroken worlds and kaleidoscope glass
But weʼve jumped the hedgeswith nothing on the other sideand weʼve sat on ledgeswatching from high above the tidegoing somewherewe couldʼntʼve before
and weʼve watched the airplanesgoing to someplace farseen then from the dirt going somewhere lowwhile they take the peopleiʼve never seen
and weʼve stumbled sidewalkstripped them in our bootsstayed out of the drain grates andended up where we werenʼt
so tired but sometimesso inspired bewilderedand in love with somethingweʼve never met
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and history yet unseen
that diesel smells alwaysreminds me of being exactly here right about now
these neon lights and cheap motelsstyrofoam coffee and sleeping bags~but i am going elsewherenot here but maybe itʼll look like herei have no way to knowi just hope noti see diesels downshiftingand neon blinkingall across the skyi see cards drivingall in circlesand i see youlooking in the corners see what's to findamidst the rubblethe happy and in betweenthe worlds and bricksthe grass and dirt's still moistbreathing life lostloveliness in spite of it all
--
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Road Sign 33-1/3rd
life clipping byat 33 and one third speed
stand here hugging nothingcount dusty nickelsstart looking what road signs say
there are many things i donʼt havetickets, dollarsways and means
sunday providencegrey like last weekwith my bargain matinee cough syrup nodcandy coated hold onto my thick headnext wave goes to marsnext even furtherwatch the clothes spinin their fluff and driednebulae
iʼve tried it all on bended kneesbut iʼll just think here and sit aboutlost months and misplaced friendshaggard days and ice cream cones
iʼll stand hereholding nothingtry to thinkhow i got herethen figure where i am
iʼll stand a shady placecounting nickels
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and happenstanceempty out my pocketson the groundyou canʼt trade lint for bread and cheese
itʼs cloudier now thanits been for years
iʼve spent daze moving quicklyyears dreaming looselyand hours watching patientlyand weeks muddling and fidgeting
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rogue wave
one dayall the secrets just vanishedloosed from your boundsof splendor andinfluencewielded mercifully from afarall the secrets vanishedand the emptiness made it clearyour lilly waft-like flowers
crave like a buccaneeraway from the sea
are a dangerousrife with rouge wavesand misery/mystery
beguiled by my ignorancecharmed by our incidentsmournful of your restlessness
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