A smoky gray evening fraught with swallows & electric light wires & a slight anticipation of the underlying pulse—& an N scale Union Pacific derailment somewhere along an N scale Tehachapi pass overlooking the windmills & cell towers & other metal trees sprouting across the Mohave’s dry wash—a desk lamp equipped with a fluorescent coil light bulb a copy of Ring Lardner’s You Know Me, Al & a paperback open to something by Vallejo on a black upholstered easy chair in a Nevada ghost town
A random silence—a phonebooth under an orange top hat neon sign some miles past Vacaville a grilled cheese sandwich an order of French Toast the sun splashing honey & heartbreak across a gray formica table top—a large orange juice on the rocks beside a cut glass ashtray brimming with stubbed- out Camel straights—a stand of vibrantly orange willows erupting against the February snow how that snow shrinks into muddy earth like memory on a Lake Fork ranch
Time passes thru you a Union Pacific freight train inexorable & liberally tagged with graffiti in motion along the Columbia River—a meadowlark in a bitterbrush an afternoon game in the bleachers at Candlestick Park speaking French—a radio wave in the cycle of Saturn’s rings—time passes thru you a Raleigh 10-speed coasting beside the dahlias in Golden Gate Park—there is no such thing as silence only an absence of articulation—a feeling you’ve been here before amidst the black-headed grosbeaks with the same dish of blackberry cobbler the same Our Lady of Mercy icon—OK let’s get moving
Jack Hayes
© 2010
“In every heart there should be one grief that is like a well in the desert.”
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Helix #11
A green rowboat
A flowering quince beside stone steps
A 5:00 a.m. silence punctuated with keystrokes
A large steel mailbox a trellised breezeway
A matchstick shade against the eastern sky
A portion of silence
A green August twilight a whippoorwill’s yodel
A whole tone scale on a console piano
You are here & you are not here
A radio signal traveling beyond the solar system
Ranch lights glinting green along the ridge
An Eb drone on a harmonium
You are here & you are not
A magnolia leaf fallen glossy on the walkway
A white car a sky of white cirrus an anxiety disorder
An instance of silence in motion
A cell tower on the mesa against a melon sunrise
A sound wave cycling in a square white room
You are here the melon sunrise over Lake Erie
You are walking you are driving your car
A sound wave cycling an unsolvable laughter
An instance of recognition as always uncanny
A crepe myrtle giddy with blossoms
A street lamp rooted in concrete
A barbed wire fence leaning from snow weight
A film’s blue ghost light a red theater chair
A sign stating You are here
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A flowering quince beside stone steps
A 5:00 a.m. silence punctuated with keystrokes
A large steel mailbox a trellised breezeway
A matchstick shade against the eastern sky
A portion of silence
A green August twilight a whippoorwill’s yodel
A whole tone scale on a console piano
You are here & you are not here
A radio signal traveling beyond the solar system
Ranch lights glinting green along the ridge
An Eb drone on a harmonium
You are here & you are not
A magnolia leaf fallen glossy on the walkway
A white car a sky of white cirrus an anxiety disorder
An instance of silence in motion
A cell tower on the mesa against a melon sunrise
A sound wave cycling in a square white room
You are here the melon sunrise over Lake Erie
You are walking you are driving your car
A sound wave cycling an unsolvable laughter
An instance of recognition as always uncanny
A crepe myrtle giddy with blossoms
A street lamp rooted in concrete
A barbed wire fence leaning from snow weight
A film’s blue ghost light a red theater chair
A sign stating You are here
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Helix #10
A blue enameled dutch oven
A locomotive’s slurred whistle thru a humid night
A mailbox on a post against a white sky
A propane truck marooned on a dirt road
A bottomless skyblue skyhigh June day
So this is the view from forever
A name you’ve despised since childhood
A field of Black-Eyed Susans & Indian Paintbrush
An adjective an adverb a proper noun
A fireworks display at the valley’s southern extreme
A sky folding its violet petals
So this is what forever looks like from here
A bruised July sky thru interminable twilight
You were gone & you were so sad
A white sundress a white cumulus cloud
A white t-shirt white cigarette paper a white car
So this is the view from forever
A dogwood blooming a quarter mile distant
A white plate a white page speckled with words
Snow on Council Mountain dyed orange at sunset
A redwinged blackbird’s slurred whistle
A poem that doesn’t get written
A blue-green eucalyptus next to Fell Street
A verb an adverb a proper name
A black paperback a blue jumper a white shirt
A pergola exploding with pink roses
You want to be believed a white page
So this is the view from forever
So this is what forever looks like from here
So this is what we mean when we say
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A locomotive’s slurred whistle thru a humid night
A mailbox on a post against a white sky
A propane truck marooned on a dirt road
A bottomless skyblue skyhigh June day
So this is the view from forever
A name you’ve despised since childhood
A field of Black-Eyed Susans & Indian Paintbrush
An adjective an adverb a proper noun
A fireworks display at the valley’s southern extreme
A sky folding its violet petals
So this is what forever looks like from here
A bruised July sky thru interminable twilight
You were gone & you were so sad
A white sundress a white cumulus cloud
A white t-shirt white cigarette paper a white car
So this is the view from forever
A dogwood blooming a quarter mile distant
A white plate a white page speckled with words
Snow on Council Mountain dyed orange at sunset
A redwinged blackbird’s slurred whistle
A poem that doesn’t get written
A blue-green eucalyptus next to Fell Street
A verb an adverb a proper name
A black paperback a blue jumper a white shirt
A pergola exploding with pink roses
You want to be believed a white page
So this is the view from forever
So this is what forever looks like from here
So this is what we mean when we say
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Helix #9
A black baseball cap
A puddle reflecting shattered starlight
A green metal patio chair outside the motel
A bottleneck guitar slide whining the octave
A batiked curtain a California poppy
A J-Church streetcar lurching into sunlight
You’re lost inside your life your voice gone husky
A luna moth on a breezeway lattice
A lime green sport coat the cuffs rolled up past the wrists
An outdoor café the streetlights glowing jaundiced
You’re lost inside your life on another street
A koa baritone uke strumming Moon River’s chords
A handpainted teacup a red pincushion
Black cottonwood limbs in 5:00 a.m. jaundiced fog
You’re asleep on a sofa the light an April goldfinch
A passionate kiss without the least recollection
A driftwood log charred black
An order of french toast the sunlight oozing honey
You’re anxious as usual the coffee cup’s bone white
A waxing moon at 3:00 p.m. a cornflower sky unfurled
A teardrop mandolin a red accordion
You’re lost inside life you’re sporting a Panama hat
A island in Lake Champlain a silver thunderhead
A harmonic minor scale a hawthorn bush
The hardest poem you’ll ever write until
The hardest poem you’ll ever write a long goodbye
Your life will you ever waken
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A puddle reflecting shattered starlight
A green metal patio chair outside the motel
A bottleneck guitar slide whining the octave
A batiked curtain a California poppy
A J-Church streetcar lurching into sunlight
You’re lost inside your life your voice gone husky
A luna moth on a breezeway lattice
A lime green sport coat the cuffs rolled up past the wrists
An outdoor café the streetlights glowing jaundiced
You’re lost inside your life on another street
A koa baritone uke strumming Moon River’s chords
A handpainted teacup a red pincushion
Black cottonwood limbs in 5:00 a.m. jaundiced fog
You’re asleep on a sofa the light an April goldfinch
A passionate kiss without the least recollection
A driftwood log charred black
An order of french toast the sunlight oozing honey
You’re anxious as usual the coffee cup’s bone white
A waxing moon at 3:00 p.m. a cornflower sky unfurled
A teardrop mandolin a red accordion
You’re lost inside life you’re sporting a Panama hat
A island in Lake Champlain a silver thunderhead
A harmonic minor scale a hawthorn bush
The hardest poem you’ll ever write until
The hardest poem you’ll ever write a long goodbye
Your life will you ever waken
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Helix #8
A meadowlark in the bitterbrush
A glass of milk a green plastic cup
A bandsaw cutting curves in pine boards
A white trellis festooned with blush roses
A cigarette in a clear glass ashtray
A dish of alicha ater on Haight St & winter drizzle outside
A streak of henna & black eyeliner
Raindrops beading on cherry blossoms & plate glass
A blue denim jumper a white t-shirt
A china bust of the Madonna
A grapefruit sunrise against the high Oregon desert
You are simultaneity itself & exist there
You’re in the middle of nowhere
A bridge in the Japanese Gardens an infinitesimal mist
A rusted water tower aswarm with pigeons
A blue-wallpapered hospital waiting room
A train crossing sign half buried in a snowdrift
A red tour bus
You find yourself in the middle of forever
An order of French Toast in a Winnemucca diner
A half moon suspended above the beachgrass & iceplants
A wedding that’s rained out amidst magnolias
A rufous-sided towhee in the tall hedge
A mahogany mandocello a Washburn guitar
A voice a face a thin dime daytime moon
The Southern Pacific Coast Daylight rematerializing
Everything that might have been did happen
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A glass of milk a green plastic cup
A bandsaw cutting curves in pine boards
A white trellis festooned with blush roses
A cigarette in a clear glass ashtray
A dish of alicha ater on Haight St & winter drizzle outside
A streak of henna & black eyeliner
Raindrops beading on cherry blossoms & plate glass
A blue denim jumper a white t-shirt
A china bust of the Madonna
A grapefruit sunrise against the high Oregon desert
You are simultaneity itself & exist there
You’re in the middle of nowhere
A bridge in the Japanese Gardens an infinitesimal mist
A rusted water tower aswarm with pigeons
A blue-wallpapered hospital waiting room
A train crossing sign half buried in a snowdrift
A red tour bus
You find yourself in the middle of forever
An order of French Toast in a Winnemucca diner
A half moon suspended above the beachgrass & iceplants
A wedding that’s rained out amidst magnolias
A rufous-sided towhee in the tall hedge
A mahogany mandocello a Washburn guitar
A voice a face a thin dime daytime moon
The Southern Pacific Coast Daylight rematerializing
Everything that might have been did happen
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Helix #7
A steel teakettle
A pair of black-rimmed reading glasses
The willow’s black branches tracing daybreak
A mulberry cotton dress with gray print
A redwood marimba
A poem you wrote when you were someone else
A redwinged blackbird trilling in February gray
Tumbleweeds heaped against a barbed wire fence
A hickory bookcase
An Amtrak coach pulling out in a light mist
You are somewhere else making a wish
An oxidized penny a jukebox quarter a broken promise
You are laughing a fountain it’s inscrutable
Yellow marimba mallets in a clear glass vase
An abandoned stone house along the Oregon interstate
A diminished chord a wedding that’s rained out
Lemon moonlight absorbed by lace curtains
An osprey nest on a telephone pole
A relief globe a coffee cup filled with pens
An order of chicken pot pie in Lancaster, PA
A Virginia crepe myrtle & magnolia twilight
A Saturday daybreak you’ve had no sleep
Like everything else it’s a postcard of Multnomah Falls
Like everything else you are & you are
Multiplicity itself like everything it’s a laugh
Like everything it’s a mulberry cotton dress
Like everything it’s February rain thru black willow branches
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A pair of black-rimmed reading glasses
The willow’s black branches tracing daybreak
A mulberry cotton dress with gray print
A redwood marimba
A poem you wrote when you were someone else
A redwinged blackbird trilling in February gray
Tumbleweeds heaped against a barbed wire fence
A hickory bookcase
An Amtrak coach pulling out in a light mist
You are somewhere else making a wish
An oxidized penny a jukebox quarter a broken promise
You are laughing a fountain it’s inscrutable
Yellow marimba mallets in a clear glass vase
An abandoned stone house along the Oregon interstate
A diminished chord a wedding that’s rained out
Lemon moonlight absorbed by lace curtains
An osprey nest on a telephone pole
A relief globe a coffee cup filled with pens
An order of chicken pot pie in Lancaster, PA
A Virginia crepe myrtle & magnolia twilight
A Saturday daybreak you’ve had no sleep
Like everything else it’s a postcard of Multnomah Falls
Like everything else you are & you are
Multiplicity itself like everything it’s a laugh
Like everything it’s a mulberry cotton dress
Like everything it’s February rain thru black willow branches
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Helix #6
A pitcher of buttermilk
A banjo uke with birdseye maple neck
A pair of Converse high-tops
A field of disheveled cattails in February
A streak of henna & black eyeliner
A dry lake bed in the Owens Valley
A periwinkle blue double-wide trailer
A poplar leaf on a wet sidewalk
You are perennial
Yesterday’s evening star in the rose sky
A ticket stub a cup of black coffee
A calla lily in Golden Gate park
You have lived several lives & it’s come to this
A St Martin de Porres novena candle
A trucker’s cap a ponytail
A luna moth at a West Virginia truck stop
A black heifer running loose on the paved road
A green metal gate a metal silo
A bouquet of tigerlilies
A New Directions paperback poetry book
A singular moment
A shooting star on a yellow-gray summer evening
A smoke ring in a Pennsylvania restaurant
A John Deere tractor in an unkempt November pasture
A crepe myrtle in blossom
A red plush theater seat in the blue light
You are unstuck in space & time
A peacock on the lawn a brick walkway
A gray & smoky 6:00 a.m. the lace curtains drawn
You are one fallen star amongst every other
(with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut)
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A banjo uke with birdseye maple neck
A pair of Converse high-tops
A field of disheveled cattails in February
A streak of henna & black eyeliner
A dry lake bed in the Owens Valley
A periwinkle blue double-wide trailer
A poplar leaf on a wet sidewalk
You are perennial
Yesterday’s evening star in the rose sky
A ticket stub a cup of black coffee
A calla lily in Golden Gate park
You have lived several lives & it’s come to this
A St Martin de Porres novena candle
A trucker’s cap a ponytail
A luna moth at a West Virginia truck stop
A black heifer running loose on the paved road
A green metal gate a metal silo
A bouquet of tigerlilies
A New Directions paperback poetry book
A singular moment
A shooting star on a yellow-gray summer evening
A smoke ring in a Pennsylvania restaurant
A John Deere tractor in an unkempt November pasture
A crepe myrtle in blossom
A red plush theater seat in the blue light
You are unstuck in space & time
A peacock on the lawn a brick walkway
A gray & smoky 6:00 a.m. the lace curtains drawn
You are one fallen star amongst every other
(with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut)
Jack Hayes
© 2010
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