Because It's National Poet's Day

Here's a handful of poems written by Jonathan--selected from a file titled "Personal Favorites as Judged By Me"... 

Oh

            

Oh, to have invented the universe!

To have fashioned the kit-and-caboodle

From silly-string and nitroglycerine.

Oh, to have been the wit

To come up with it

All.

Oh, to be the topmost link in the chain!

To preside and ride magic-carpetly

Over seraphim and dandelions.          

                        Oh, to never go

                        Above or below

Me.

Oh, to be deciphered a priori!

To be the primest number, the peerlessest

Civilian in all possible worlds.

                        Oh, to be only Am,

                        Forever wide and

                        Tall.

                       

Oh, that I had known me in the womb!

To have witnessed my shift from globule

To thumb-sucking roly-poly.

Oh, to have known my

Fortunate stars by

Now.

Renaissance

There’s this man by the river strumming an arch-top Gibson

                        Singing antique songs, and this loose-dressed woman

                        Who dances beside him—harmonizing, clapping,

            Luring cash into the coin-poor case; and they made me want

                        To dust off my handful of chords and play.

There’s this woman down the lane disappearing into sun-glare,

                        Posing with the live oaks, far beyond the camera’s focus,

                        Who adorns herself with Spanish moss—a crown,

            A shawl, a boa to her hips; and she made me want

                        To forget my limping leg and sprint the promenade.

There’s this man in Chippewa Square twisting palmetto roses,

                        Telling vast lies—the blind gullah

                        Who taught him the many underlaps  

            And overtucks of the trade—and he made me want

                        To close my eyes and fashion a flower from a tree.

Bear and Salmon (Live-Cam at Brooks Falls)

Brown bear atop the falls, eyes

Locked on the foam; an urgency

Of fins pelt the heron-

Patient beast—portrait of awkward

Majesty.  When now and then

Lucky maws clamp in purchase,

She shoulders into the plunge

To eat her catch on the banks,

Trailed by a covetous gull.

What Seemed Like Good Ideas

Karaoke at Gabe’s for the umpteenth,

Singing country for cowboys dribbling

Swill on shave-nicked chins and calling

For encores.

Ordering curried fish in London first

Things first, to pop off a flare for fitting

In—wincing at warm bitters and staring

Whole fish in the eyes.

Pushing all in against a sprung-eyed

Geezer with seven ways of grinning,

None of which guaranteed a sure-fire

Flush or higher.

Quarry dives at Warrior, skinny legs,

White and wobbling, water-painted girls

Dripping mascara, quoting movies

We liked that summer, that summer in particular.

Crash course mistakes learned hard

Against the Gulf Coast, knee-deep in cold

Breakers, feet numb, and paper-white herons

Scaring the rest of the hell out of me.

Days set aside for anticipating nights

When the kaleidoscope rattled, twisted

By unseen hands—tree branches cricketing

Havoc on the stars.