Richard Denner

 

My Escape Forward

What's up?
What's down?
What's there to do?
What's done?

It doesn't matter if I go up the Congo
down the Mekong
or follow Strawberry Creek
I'll loose my mind if I go far enough

Strawberry Creek runs down the hill
past the Cyclotron through Faculty Glade
I sit by the stream
and my dreams are full of heavy metal

My freshman year at Cal
Professor Parkinson says
that my essay "My Home"
is the worst thing he's ever read

These squiggles are my class notes
for Atomic Radiation and Life--
must be the paths of neutrinos
no mass, just spin

Frank Chin takes off his Rotcy uniform
and sticks the barrel of his rifle in the ground
Walking off the drill field in his shorts
he's no chickencoop Chinaman

The Un-American Activities Committee
is in town--Black Friday--the police
fearing they are loosing control wash
the protesters down the courthouse steps

At breakfast my dad chokes on his toast
I'm on the front page giving a sieg heil
What he can't see is the mic
I'm holding for KPFA

A war machine slouches towards Saigon
I hear the litany of the dead
A protest movement is born
the formation of a hive

Released from the Darkness
my skull is measured by calipers
Is my brain pan enlarged?
by Tibet, by Nicaragua, by Burma

A child might wonder why
the earth seems flat
note the lines
connect the lines

Bosnia--East Timor--Kuwait--
Colombia--Afghanistan-

Eventually, they form a circle

 

Page of Wands

black on black on black,
black dress, black nails
black eyeliner, blonde hair dyed black
dog chains
and combat boots with 2 inch soles
you want to learn tarot
but don't care about Ancient Egypt
or what is hidden in the cards
just how to read them
so gothic
my mood, your costume
no need for all this blather
ok, I'll forget the traditional path
take you to a coffee house
look at the art
here, let you play with the cards
go off in whatever direction
from whatever vantage point
correspondence
with whatever comes next
that girl's tattoo
it says "broken" across her back
in bold letters

the coal miners' strike in Harlem County
Kentucky in the 70s

no kidding, things get me down
better now we're sitting in this café
note my inflection and the emphasis
put on precision, value, fun
coming at you sideways
first a double mocha, then history
then a balloon
inside, I write, "Poot was here!"
and vanish into air

 

Magician's Apprentice

I cough, sweating, with knots in my shoulders
He knows I know where the drib lies
where the energy emanates

My nausea is the key
Follow my stomach, follow the heaving
find the spot in the earth

He points to a rock
moves his hand in a circle
I remove the rock
He hands me a sharp stick, and I dig

I hear chanting in the yurt on the hill
It is daylight, but it is like a long night

He points to a new place a few inches away
and I dig there, another address of agony
He points to a spot a foot away
and after more digging
a piece of paper appears
I can see script bleeding in the damp
I want to unfold this dark treasure
but he makes a gesture for fire
both hands upturned, fingers wiggling
I build a small fire with leaves and twigs

A wind begins, then vanishes
although it's still here

I cough and blow on the flames
as the paper catches
and curls like a question

My nausea is gone

At the sight of him
in his robes and tennis shoes
doing a playful shuffle
I can't help but laugh

 

 

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