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.”
Showing posts with label Helix poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Helix poems. Show all posts
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
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Helix #5
A pink silk rose
A white & blue ceramic elephant teapot
A safety pin a brass thumbtack
An umber sofa you doze there at 2:00 p.m.
A February lemon sun
An white enameled bowl brimming with rose hips
A 50s postcard shaped like California
A crescent moon tattoo
A Union Pacific train emerging from an Oregon tunnel
A glossolalia of dogwoods & laughter
A coonskin cap in a roadside tourist shop
A statue of Nuestra Señora a metal bed frame
A stile stepping into the dry September pasture
A great blue heron
A red tin roof brushed slick with hoarfrost
A train you are never there to meet it
A porch with wooden railing a green May twilight
A mockingbird in a tulip tree
A white cord hammock
You are laughing a fountain it’s incomprehensible
A black magic marker a wooden letter opener
A wooden spatula a red & white teapot
A plate of lemon pasta a pair of irrigation boots
A train you are never there to see it off
A flock of guinea hens cackling in the cottonwood
A C major seven a D minor seven transposed a major third
A divided highway at 3:00 a.m.
A silver flute a lime-green ukulele
An evening in a bookstore without any hope except hope
Where are you in your words
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A white & blue ceramic elephant teapot
A safety pin a brass thumbtack
An umber sofa you doze there at 2:00 p.m.
A February lemon sun
An white enameled bowl brimming with rose hips
A 50s postcard shaped like California
A crescent moon tattoo
A Union Pacific train emerging from an Oregon tunnel
A glossolalia of dogwoods & laughter
A coonskin cap in a roadside tourist shop
A statue of Nuestra Señora a metal bed frame
A stile stepping into the dry September pasture
A great blue heron
A red tin roof brushed slick with hoarfrost
A train you are never there to meet it
A porch with wooden railing a green May twilight
A mockingbird in a tulip tree
A white cord hammock
You are laughing a fountain it’s incomprehensible
A black magic marker a wooden letter opener
A wooden spatula a red & white teapot
A plate of lemon pasta a pair of irrigation boots
A train you are never there to see it off
A flock of guinea hens cackling in the cottonwood
A C major seven a D minor seven transposed a major third
A divided highway at 3:00 a.m.
A silver flute a lime-green ukulele
An evening in a bookstore without any hope except hope
Where are you in your words
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Helix #4
A yellow N scale caboose
A sagebrush hunched frail against the gray snow
A roan horse steaming in a January field
Everything you see is talking back
A derelict crossing signal a vacant brick depot
A flicker perched in a silvery poplar
A movie theater the light gray & silver
A century rose encircling a dead cottonwood
A gray-blue bowl
A pussy willow in bloom in early March
A purple crocus a red crocus
A crumpled poem in a sport coat pocket
A white sun dress a navy pea coat
A streak of henna in February sunlight
A whelk a conch a sand dollar
You can’t take your own reflection
An N scale 19th century steam engine
A bolo tie a black sport coat the sleeves rolled up
A Joshua Tree in white blossom
An evening replete with silence & more silence
A pair of black-rimmed reading glasses
A screen door the screen torn in patches
A silver daytime moon beside a gray cloud
Your face intent & absorbed
A blue note that doesn’t resolve
A redwing blackbird’s urgent February trill
Your uneasy place in forever
Jack Hayes
© 2010
A sagebrush hunched frail against the gray snow
A roan horse steaming in a January field
Everything you see is talking back
A derelict crossing signal a vacant brick depot
A flicker perched in a silvery poplar
A movie theater the light gray & silver
A century rose encircling a dead cottonwood
A gray-blue bowl
A pussy willow in bloom in early March
A purple crocus a red crocus
A crumpled poem in a sport coat pocket
A white sun dress a navy pea coat
A streak of henna in February sunlight
A whelk a conch a sand dollar
You can’t take your own reflection
An N scale 19th century steam engine
A bolo tie a black sport coat the sleeves rolled up
A Joshua Tree in white blossom
An evening replete with silence & more silence
A pair of black-rimmed reading glasses
A screen door the screen torn in patches
A silver daytime moon beside a gray cloud
Your face intent & absorbed
A blue note that doesn’t resolve
A redwing blackbird’s urgent February trill
Your uneasy place in forever
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Helix #3
a straw cowboy hat
a cantaloupe sunrise a snow glazed ridgeline
a white-crowned sparrow in a willow
a narrow wallpapered hallway its doors all closed
a white wicker hamper
a diner glinting stainless under a palm tree
you are someone else you cannot be known
headlights on the dirt road at 5:00 a.m.
a raven hunched on a cedar fence post
a black madonna
a haystack draped with a silver tarp
a styrofoam coffee cup
what does memory show
a sheet of beeswax for candles
a waxing moon electrifying the snow
you are someone else you cannot be known
a green linen sport coat
a blue glass mixing bowl
a ticket stub you can’t recall the film
a line that divides & connects
frost constellated across this morning’s windshield
reflections in a resonator guitar
a stainless steel measuring cup a red plastic handle
a magnolia petal like a sob & another
the naked thorn trees the January garden
a ring-neck pheasant forages next to the tall hedge
a highway’s divided line
Jack Hayes
© 2010
a cantaloupe sunrise a snow glazed ridgeline
a white-crowned sparrow in a willow
a narrow wallpapered hallway its doors all closed
a white wicker hamper
a diner glinting stainless under a palm tree
you are someone else you cannot be known
headlights on the dirt road at 5:00 a.m.
a raven hunched on a cedar fence post
a black madonna
a haystack draped with a silver tarp
a styrofoam coffee cup
what does memory show
a sheet of beeswax for candles
a waxing moon electrifying the snow
you are someone else you cannot be known
a green linen sport coat
a blue glass mixing bowl
a ticket stub you can’t recall the film
a line that divides & connects
frost constellated across this morning’s windshield
reflections in a resonator guitar
a stainless steel measuring cup a red plastic handle
a magnolia petal like a sob & another
the naked thorn trees the January garden
a ring-neck pheasant forages next to the tall hedge
a highway’s divided line
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Helix #2
a drab January goldfinch
a letter written on yellow legal paper October 1978
a white two-story house a red door
an Oregon butte flashing orange at sunrise
a tidal pool pulsing with sea urchins
you are far removed
a junco skittering across the porch
a willow bough frothy with wet snow
a quart of Ballantine ale
a white pick-up a ladder in the truck bed a
magpie scudding above the highway
winter’s horizons shimmering with ghosts
fog rolling blue & white from the ridge
you are sobbing & nothing adds up
a yellow January sunrise
a yellow August sunrise a screen window
a bald eagle perched atop a cottonwood
a dog-eared copy of Leaves of Grass
irrigation pipe on wheels sunk in the drifts
a brown fedora a black print skirt
a willow’s orange limbs in the snow in Lake Fork
you are somewhere in the fog beyond the fog
a summer morning’s sobbing birdcalls
a gray t-shirt a pair of stained Reeboks a television
wire-rimmed glasses red flannel pajamas
irrevocable distance between then & now
footprints in snow on the frozen lake
Jack Hayes
© 2010
a letter written on yellow legal paper October 1978
a white two-story house a red door
an Oregon butte flashing orange at sunrise
a tidal pool pulsing with sea urchins
you are far removed
a junco skittering across the porch
a willow bough frothy with wet snow
a quart of Ballantine ale
a white pick-up a ladder in the truck bed a
magpie scudding above the highway
winter’s horizons shimmering with ghosts
fog rolling blue & white from the ridge
you are sobbing & nothing adds up
a yellow January sunrise
a yellow August sunrise a screen window
a bald eagle perched atop a cottonwood
a dog-eared copy of Leaves of Grass
irrigation pipe on wheels sunk in the drifts
a brown fedora a black print skirt
a willow’s orange limbs in the snow in Lake Fork
you are somewhere in the fog beyond the fog
a summer morning’s sobbing birdcalls
a gray t-shirt a pair of stained Reeboks a television
wire-rimmed glasses red flannel pajamas
irrevocable distance between then & now
footprints in snow on the frozen lake
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Helix #1
an arthritic finger
a quonset hut hulking in January drizzle
a teardrop tattoo
a chowder shack in Bodega Bay
a misty November afternoon spilling over with gulls
a flagstone walkway
a cigarette butt in a puddle outside the hospital
you are older
a coil of barbed wire breaks thru pasture snow
a dish of paella in Baltimore
it was January you should have been elsewhere
a peony blooming next to concrete steps
a pair of chipped bifocals a pair of frayed black sandals
a kestrel preening in the willow
a star tattoo a daytime moon
a purple cyclamen on a San Francisco patio
a string quartet a picnic dinner on the lawn
an archtop guitar
a game of croquet a storm approaching from the south
a Council, Idaho July 4th parade
a dogwood blooming like laughter
a cottonwood’s seedpods exploding amidst May’s bees
a future loaded with blanks
where have you been all this time
Jack Hayes
© 2010
a quonset hut hulking in January drizzle
a teardrop tattoo
a chowder shack in Bodega Bay
a misty November afternoon spilling over with gulls
a flagstone walkway
a cigarette butt in a puddle outside the hospital
you are older
a coil of barbed wire breaks thru pasture snow
a dish of paella in Baltimore
it was January you should have been elsewhere
a peony blooming next to concrete steps
a pair of chipped bifocals a pair of frayed black sandals
a kestrel preening in the willow
a star tattoo a daytime moon
a purple cyclamen on a San Francisco patio
a string quartet a picnic dinner on the lawn
an archtop guitar
a game of croquet a storm approaching from the south
a Council, Idaho July 4th parade
a dogwood blooming like laughter
a cottonwood’s seedpods exploding amidst May’s bees
a future loaded with blanks
where have you been all this time
Jack Hayes
© 2010
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