Category: Uncategorized

A FAREWELL TO ERIC

In nineteen seventy five
In the rainforests of Venezuela
Eric lived for a year with the Yanomami

He also lived with the Hunkpapa
the little people that only the shamans see
unless you toke what the shamans toke
then you can see them too

When Eric was ready to go home
the Yanomami gathered by the river
and wailed and mourned as if he’d died

Eric says his goodbyes and tries to start his boat
Tuned up, new plugs and all, but it just won’t start

He pulls and pulls while the tribesmen wail

After what seems like a very long time
the shaman comes down to the boat
and asks Eric if he’s sure he must leave

Eric insists again that the time has come

The shaman admits that he has placed
Hunkpapas in the motor to keep him there

He pulls them out one by one
juggling them hot in his hands
and throws them steaming into the river
One pull and the motor starts

In two thousand and twelve in Austin
Eric is ready to go home again
Many wail and wish that he would stay
but he knows that it is time to leave

At times like this it helps
to have a shaman for a friend

John Hawk flies in and reads
Eric’s poems to the Hunkpapas
and watches as the little people leave

It takes a few pulls, but the motor starts

MALPRACTICE

MALPRACTICE

There have always been therapists

The first one was the snake
who just suggested to Eve
that she open up a little

For six thousand years
he’s been trying to slither out
of a skin our projections
have painted him in

The second one was Eve
who many judge about as low
for passing it on to Adam

SAGRADO FAMILIA

SAGRADO FAMILIA

It took Antoni Gaudi to see
that if a tree can be a cathedral
a cathedral can also be a tree

That it still stands is proof
that the branches from its trunks
can hold the canopy of roof

It is trite and true to say
that Gaudi built poetry

and I’d love to build a poem
where one could come and sit

as softly on a hardwood pew
in a place so radiant lit

HEADINGS

HEADINGS

Hamlet was only mad north-northwest

My father
who also mostly knew
a hawk from a hacksaw
had him beat by a few degrees

Which you could quickly learn
by questioning his direction
at any point of the compass

Struck by a stroke
on the day he retired
he was never the same again

The left side of his brain
holds logic math and anger
all other emotions on the right

The man became a gentle artist
if he could have lined up lines
he might have been a poet