The Breathing House

Acknowledgements Acknowledgements are made to the following publications in which these poems have appeared: As You Requested, a chapbook produced by Marcielle Brandler, “America: At Your Service,” “The Civilian, The Siege,” “April Third: On the Street,” new title is “On the Street,” “Koyaanisquatsi,” and “The Request,”1986. California Poets in the School: Los Angeles Poets Anthology, “Monroe, Utah,” Fall 1995. Corners Magazine: an Assemblage of Poems by the Pasadena Poets, “The Civilian, The Siege,” and “the Request,” 1985. Disclosure. Voices of Women, New Alliance Records: "The Civilian The Siege." 1992. Eclipse: “Lark in the High Desert.” 2003 Haight Ashbury Literary Journal: "I Met a Man." Hurãkan: "Raven's Canyon." 1995. Moment Magazine, “April 3: On the Street,” New title “On the Street,” 1987. Poems by the Gifted Students, a chapbook of the students at Glenwood Elementary School, and for California Poets in the Schools, produced by Marcielle Brandler, “Frolic,” 1989. Revista:Review Interamericana , University of Puerto Rico, “ “Lark in the High Desert,” and “The Breathing House,” 1994. Shrinking Chants, a chapbook produced by Marcielle Brandler, “Ituri Forest,” “Koyaanisquatsi,” “To Lightnin Hopkins’ Blues,” “America: At Your Service,” “Two Beauties,” “Experience and Art,” “The Civilian, The Siege,” “These Are the Words,” 1990. Southern California Anthology: "Monroe, Utah,." 1995. The Forum: "America: At Your Service", “Inner Café,” and "Paladins of the Styx." 1997. Two Twenty-four Poetry Quarterly: "Black School." Voices. New Poems of Life and Experience: "Inner Café," 1994. Wilderness of Dreams: California Poets in the Schools Statewide Anthology, "Eden," 1998. “Eden” and “The Senator Remembers the Lobbyist,” Arts and Letters, Summer 2005. “Inner Café,” “The Request,” and “Frolic,” Arts and Letters, Fall 2005. "Eden" won First Prize for the Mount San Antonio College 25th Annual Writers' Conference, 1997. 2 Special Thanks I wish to express my gratitude to poet/screenwriter, James Ragan whose encouragement kept me clear about what writing means to me, and whose magnanimous contributions of time and guidance as mentor are deeply appreciated. Thanks to Eduardo Kotliroff, for whisking me away to locations in Brazil and Argentina, featured in some of these poems. Years ago, Denise Levertov critiqued a few of these poems at the request of my dear mentor, Professor Vladimir Ussachevsky, electronic music composer/pioneer, who is now deceased. Posthumous thanks to him. Vladimir was a great inspiration and loved by many. I wish also to thank poet, William Matthews for his help with this manuscript. Unfortunately, Bill is no longer with us. His generosity and gentle spirit will never be forgotten. Many thanks to Jack Hirschman who inspired me to publish my chapbooks and organize my reading series with Marc Colasurdo in the early eighties. We called it Urban Mobile Poets, and we read poetry all over California inviting dancers, musicians, actors, and other poets to perform with us. I would like to add to this list, my friend, Lionel Rolfe, who pushed me to re-organize these poems and get this book out to the world. Finally, to poet, Dave Smith, who, when I was an undergraduate in 1974, told me that none of the first manuscript I gave him were poems, except a line of mine which read, "Our lips were hot." Now I understand. Thank you all for your gracious attentions! 3 Contents Acknowledgements 2 Special Thanks 3 Eden 6 Prague 7 Black Stage 8 Nine-Foot Tall Grizzly 9 The Senator Speaks of the Lobbyist 10 Raven’s Canyon 11 Black School 12 The Breathing House 13 To Lightnin’ Hopkins’ Blues 14 Two Beauties 15 Decision 17 Inner Cafe 18 The Civilian/ The Siege 19 So He Fought in a War 20 What the Ugly Boy and the Pretty Girl Have in Common 21 When I Used to Drive the Fast Lane 22 Koyaanisquatsi 23 4 Silverlake 25 Hotel Chance 27 On the Street 28 America: At Your Service 29 Penal Colony 30 How the Lovers Rush 31 The Gestapo 32 Prayer Den in São Paulo 33 I Met a Man 34 Bilingual 35 Lark in the High Desert 36 The Day the Earth Stood Still 37 Deconstructing Mystery 38 Experience and Art 39 Monroe, Utah 41 Watching River Moss 42 Frolic 43 Bury Me in Mojave 44 The Request 46 Paladins of the Styx 49 These Are the Words 51 5 Eden I startled my mother in the blazing hallway, her breasts an exotic gift my lips had never suckled. It was an accident we met. Never before had I beheld anyone naked. My sisters told me of the times they had watched her. I imagine my mother lifting herself from the forgiving floral suds of her bath. This secret time I had never visualized until now. She glides on her hose, attaching them with little posy snaps, and perfumes herself in her personal scent. Slithering into her strapless cocktail dress, her shoulders glowing, she fluffs up her hair like a delicate fern, then entwines the glittering necklace and presses on the blossom lipstick which my father will kiss from her mouth before they lie down in the room where only they may sleep. What are these angry wings barring me from her garden? I remember the last time she bathed me. I was five and embarrassed. I turned away, and she left me in my unscented water. 6 Prague And the drift Of the sing In cobblestone colors Pierce my heart The love-city The city-bridge The bridge of cities Binding the artists To their places Palettes spinning o’re The heads of schoolchildren Their uniforms crisp And windy. Cafes packed With Americans, with Germans. Post Office workers refuse To help you. You must Learn more Czech. Where are the writers? Tourists celebrate dead Artists. The prostitute in Wensleslaw Square dances For the poorest gypsy I ever saw. No cats. No dogs. Just swarms Of people touring, studying, Snapping cameras. Snapping bits of memory From pieces of Prague To hustle home. 7 Black Stage Someone has called the red leaves home. Scriptures in the sky are peeling down. My sisters rake and burn them with unspoken fires, while I lounge with my aged parents on the porch and wait for the first stars. My mother has mesmerized us with their transmissions like the saga she invented of why my half-brother was banished from us when he was only nine, and why we were forbidden, all our years, to speak his name. Mother defines the sparks searing through Orion. I search the black hole, the antimatter of her eyes. My sisters point to the frayed landscape of our lives and the evidence above us. Someone has seen us gawking. Someone is pulling it all away.