Sacred Mushroom

Long ago there was a coffee house that turned jazz bar on Saturday nights. This is a tribute to that wonderful place and to those that frequented the Sacred Mushroom.

there was just a night
under the light at the
bottom of the Sacred Mushroom
or many such that i recall

a place where every face
could music smell and taste
under dim lights on many nights
down stairs at the Mushroom

Warren tooled a Gretch
and cool Jimmie was there to fetch
whatever anyone was needing
beneath the street, the Mushroom

the sound was around the walls
and steady in jazz time
a lasting grace note falls
against this heart of mine

dark and turtlenecks prevailed
backed up by a drummer's beat
or trumpets sadly wailed
through the night, beneath the street

coming, going through the night
to play the king, or just a pawn
and Warren held them very tight
as oceans sang and night slipped on

when trombones went into a case
when piano became a yawn
i left the place, behind the bass
on foggy Sundays, right at dawn

continuing

in flashes of spaces i see
life continuing in a game on another level
sort of an eternal corporate promotion
into a mathematical position
with which we are not as yet familiar

the springer that sprung
need i say more
i just read a letter from my Auntie Dorthy
who mentioned Broken Arrow, Oklahoma
that's a little more immediate
at least i can get there from here

lonesome train

sorting from cardboard boxes
not much to pack
last look around, a check of the time
then closing the door
locking sadness within

going home before the weather changes
the fields . . . he liked the rain
there's time to reflect
while watching dark clouds out the window

heavy steel rolls hard and smooth
and before the long night is through
i may see the moon
glide over town, yes
soon, real soon

a guy with an apron, a little blue hat
and a smile comes pushing a cart
down the isle
selling coffee and water
the same guy a half hour ago
was selling sandwiches

roses bloom in the rain
love is the same
nothing ventured, nothing gained
you can say that again
watching it rain

i hear her sweet laugh
while handing me a photograph
the moon rising through the glass
reflects on her behalf

she's painted and she's pretty
pressed against the window pane
the lady from Kansas City
takes my mind off everything
she can ride with me any time
on any old lonesome train

a party

once we went to a party in Roma
a well to do neighborly affair
on a lovely terrace and view of the city
we met a young man there
just returned that day
from somewhere deep in Africa

he was a missionary and a hunter
on his way back to England
to raise money before going back
Hunting Rhinos for Christ
was what he called his campaign
and he was serious
i don't know how it came out
we never heard from him again

rain soaked and lovin' it

it was late afternoon
the tires screeched when i skipped to a stop.
rain soaked her wet as a rag as soon as she got out.
the second i felt the door slam and the car rock
she had already run to the office and disappeared
where it read "women's wellness center"

with the motor on and the heater purring like
a little kitten i was soon
nodding to the syncopation of the thunder with
the beat of the wipers kinda getting into this pitter-pat of the never ending rain
inside she was shaking him down," come on, candy man, i'm here
instead of getting my hair done so why don't you reach into that
bag of tricks and give me a sample of something to take the edge off."

five minutes later she was back in the car and told me, "let's go."
i edged out between headlights into the rainy night and headed toward the bridge
with a glance at her face in the rear view mirror i could see she had eased up a bit

just to be polite and make a little conversation i asked how it went
she gave one of those curled lip devil-may-care sneers, chuckled and then pointed with her chin, looking straight ahead
"step on it," she said

great blue heron - scout

a moment after dawn
out back in my laboratory
alongside the pond
i was examining four table legs

one was longer and needed to be trimmed, when
movement under the old sugar maple caught my attention
thirty feet away there in a crouch
the great blue heron stealthfully, slowly looked about

remaining still as the giant i watched through the glass
from behind closed door for nearly a minute
until he shuttered, spread his wings, rose in the air and fled the scene
with the only remaining disturbance being the knowledge of his presence

Note: The entire ten by fourteen foot pond has a "deer net" suspended two and a half feet over it and seems to protect the fish while allowing the frogs to come and go. On the posted picture of the heron from an earlier visit, notice the lily pads for size reference. They are about the size of pancakes. And when the heron lifts his head and stretches his neck he is about twice as tall.

be on the lookout
for this bird!

definitive relativity

i wondered aloud how those frogs
could be floating in the pond one moment
look up, and then instantly
leap atop a rock well above the water

hearing me,
in less than a heart beat
she gave the reply,
"they're superhuman"
and you know, she's right

so next time you're on your way
to the voting booth
consider the candidate's potential
and remember where we are
in the grand scheme of things

(vote green)

Design

Man is designed well.
Sleep and he is recharged.
Like dogs and cats
And doesn't have to be plugged in.
There are a few i'l like to.

frog news - newsroom update

for Tom C. and one or two other people in the world who are wondering.


FLASH: this just in from ohio

meri saw three small frogs
sitting in or around the pond
where we like to see 'em

all apparently happy
we're happy
are you happy?

a chance it may rain again tonight
we'll be watching the driveway
for runaways or new arrivals

b.c. and counting

a dozen years before Christ
what year did everyone think it was?
they didn't walk around saying it's twelve before zero
and they must have had a New Years
so what year did they celebrate?

in five b.c. if you told someone you'd pay them the money you owed in four b.c.
they'd squint, scratch, then club your head

what did they do when they had to fill out an official form
and write down the year of birth?
"you wrote you were born in minus 36
how did you figure that?
that'll cost you three shiny stones and a chunk of obsidian for being a wise ass"

all ok

the heron is gone
all the fish are there
so is the frog
and the net is back over the pond

frog count

we chased a blue heron out of the pond
and now are waiting to see if he got the frog

there were five
then three
then one
we are sad

tune up

crazy free
i am you
sun makes me smile
like you do

know true that i say
all the best to you
cause i surely mean it
over my tea
out the window

life is always changing
stick around
sun goes up
sun goes down

gate 77

three sisters: Dracula Rabbit,
Saggy Eyes and Long Forehead
sat opposite me, mauling gum
in long open mouth cow-cud chews

i don't wear a watch
there was not a clock visible, so i watched them
for a long, long while
fascinated by their down trodden bland unity
in which not a word was spoken

then deciding what to do i cleared my throat
prior to giving them
an important tip
they simultaneously looked to me

leaning forward so our faces
nearly touched lip to lip to lip to lip
i whispered to those three
calmly waiting a plane to arrive
"you have to boogie to stay alive"

this june morning

at dawn this june morning
i awoke lazily to faint scents
reminiscent of long agos
i hadn't known for years

in the shower the splash and smell
brought to mind those other times
and how it used to feel in humid air
at the start of summer here

on the road to hand-over- fist big money for poetry

once i wrote to hallmark
in Kansas City
and told them i'd like to be a poet
they thought that was fine
but had one already
wouldn't you know it

walk-in sunday breakfast

looking for an art show
in a small out of the way community
the morning was already hot
that town was the wrong one for an art festival
but clean and bright, and per usual
our good luck ran true

we saw the hand-made sign for the
the American Legion breakfast
set up and waiting
local folks invited us in
for good food
served quietly and easily
ceiling fans turned slowly overhead

we took our time
enjoyed pancakes and all
once again hitting it right
perfect altogether

like something out of the Ohio past
where folks are plain folk
and the cooking home done
they thanked us, we thanked them
and were glad we'd come

ninety in the shade

ninety degrees in the shade
the heat has started soon
a soaker day awash in humidity
can we play another tune?

but the frogs are eating well
they waller and wait and sing
it must be swell down where they dwell
if you're partial to this sort of thing

ninety degrees in the shade again
with heat full bloom by noon
humidity heavy, naturally
and to think it's only june

dawn poem

near june dawn
one damp
brown leather foot
after another
crept through the woods
to a lake and canoe
where two
set off as few would do
to pursue the climbing amber sun
(not yet in view)
and jumping swimming fish
(deep in the blue)
the deer and bear and birds

what they saw
no one knew