Wednesday, March 31, 2010

April 2010


Photo courtesy of Dave Rubio















This month features Dave Rubio and Keith Moul

Dave Rubio

A Song to Morning

It was the hour of the long shadows.
Dew becomes visible
and sweeps a blade of grass.

In mere moments mist is relieved
of the temporary burden
of being liquid.

Air is relieved
of life as mist
Transforming into the crispness
of the morn.

There is no mourning
for the morning.

So sing the shadows
to the dew and the air.

The Ukelele

He strummed the ukulele in a hauntingly Spanish fashion.
Conversations stopped as he became the distraction.
Soon she began to hum;
Softly…quietly…became the beat…the rhythm.

Her husband followed suit.
In mid stride he chimed into the action.
She hit a low, he hit a high.
Sometimes the only way to distinguish them
Was only by the naked eye.

Let’s not forget about that ukulele guy.
He was keeping pace with their rhythm
Flowing to their speed,
And as he took a moment to gaze up
He heard other voices joined the fun.
Mothers, fathers
Sons and daughters
All around began to hum.

Just from one ukulele strum.
A “voice-o-plenty” was beginning to harvest
All the seasons gold.
Currently perpetrating a reason
To never feel old.

And as quickly as it had come
The last ukulele strum
In its afterglow…the hum

What transpired after that?
Well silly smiles and friendship laughter.
A memory they will take
Into the hereafter.

Half as Much

Let's go outside.
I want to watch the breeze
Blow through your hair.

She says

I want to see if it looks the same
as when I run my fingers through them.

Although I know it looks different, I want to see
How nature embraces you with its longing kisses.

Does it love you half as much as I do?

Just let me see.
If you do to the world
Half of what you do to me.

Dave lives and writes in CA. He also takes great pictures.


Keith Moul

TAKING HIM STRAIGHT

They had agreed that her crime
would not be labeled theft--
but surely she had taken:

him straight,

in his purest, hardest
most unadulterated form,

both strongest and weakest
like blue laser, sky
or water over falls,
content with nothing,
after everything;

and he had burned her eyes,
her fingers, her tongue;

he had twisted great love
and woven it with many regrets.

But she got her therapy
and stayed….

TAKING HIMSELF SERIOUSLY

They had agreed that his crime
would not be labeled theft--
but surely he had taken:

himself seriously:

on a charming river
in Ontario
armed with a lever-action
Marlin .30-.30;

in his Volkswagen van-
stage, bearded
and herring-boned;

as a high school prospect
of the major leagues
when in his mind
he won a roster spot;

and she winced with him
when the mirror
twisted each feature
of his morning face.

TAKING PAINS

They had agreed that her crime
would not be labeled theft--
but surely she had taken:

pains,

without asking, certainly,
but with no malice of spirit.

In the manner of a trash collector
with an eye to locate
in a heap the rarest of all pains;
in the mood of a child
with a leg up on wisdom
she carted off her treasures
to her private cache--
and only when prodded
would model them
on glittering occasions.

In time, symptoms develop
and lodge in the flesh.

KEITH'S POEMS HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED IN THE US, CANADA AND BRITAIN FOR MORE THAN 40 YEARS. THESE ARE FROM A SEQUENCE OF WHAT HE CALLS IDIOMATIC POEMS. EACH BEGINS WITH A COMMON IDIOM USING THE VERB TO TAKE. THE POEMS THEN EXPAND THAT MEANING INTO SOMETHING NEW. KEITH LIVES IN WASHINGTON STATE.KEITH HAS PUBLISHED QUITE A BIT, IS NOW RETIRED AND CONTINUES TO WRITE, BUT IN A MORE DEDICATED WAY.

No comments: