by Devorah Major
     from “calfia’s daughter” Aquarius Press/Willow Press June 2020

almost drowning

1.
in the midst of it all
i know i must come up
for air or quickly
learn to breathe
under water

2.
cresting ocean
above my head

i hold back the gasp
and open my mouth

deeply swallow air
in one huge gulp

before descending again
into the salted waters

to shoot up once more
towards the sun

unfold
absorb

lay back
inhale

before again
descending

3.
i dive
lower
than i can imagine

looking above i see
a glimmer reflecting
below the ocean’s
choppy surface

i cut the waves
break through
for a moment
breathe
as i let the waves
return me to the shore

by Devorah Major

war visions

     After Motherwell’s Elegy to the Spanish Republic (with lemon–yellow panel) from the exhibition: Between Life and Death:
     Robert Motherwell’s Elegies in Bay Area Collections

there’s a hole
in the sky
in my side
in my heart
in my brain

a hole raining
black tear drops

a hole fertile
with seeds
that can’t be
planted this season
or the next

by Devorah Major
     from book I’m shopping “love in the hunting season”

usa fire alarm

the house is burning

we can smell its smoke

sparks singe the curtains
our eyes water as growing fires
sizzle at our front and back doors

on the top floors
some of the residents
are in a thick fog sleep

in the darkened basement
others are trapped

straight–backed and frightened
i sit in the living room
i am not alone

the house is burning

the arsonists say
they will rebuild the frame
with our bones
glue together ashes for the walls

they have no need to
replace the windows
i have a bucket of water at my feet

where should I throw it

by Ed Sanders

          Woodstock, NY
          in memory of my longtime
          friend & literary explorer
          Michael McClure

A bunch of us performed at Town Hall in NYC
in May of ’94 — as the finale of a 5 Day
Conference on the Beat Generation at NYU

I opened the evening by calling
William Burroughs in Lawrence, Kansas
and talked with him from the stage
to the applause of the overflow audience

Later I stood stageside and bantered
with Michael McClure & Gregory Corso  

Some of the best moments at this sort of event
are found in the intimate discourse
standing offstage or in the dressing rooms

I told McClure
that Johnny Depp
had paid 15 grand
to Kerouac’s estate
for one of
          Jack’s jackets

He & Ray Manzarek were
                    just about to go on

& Ferlinghetti
          was toning
                    his final poem

McClure flipped me
the hard Sophoclean eye & said
“I have five or six of those.”  

“So do I,” I replied,
my mind shifting cunningly
from free will
               to Good Will
thinking, of course, that
Depp will need a
2nd coat for when
the 1st is in the cleaners
& another
          for his summer home
                    & one for his manse in Nice

by rob mclennan

from the book of smaller

The President’s House is empty

Corollary. Endured, a whitewash. Literally. A golem’s chance. Not just him, though you have marked. Resist! Is neither obsolete. We will not fall. An empty chamber, fueled. All strapped. Collective impulse, impulse, falsehood. Airbrushed, pitch. Convulsed. An east wind, furthers. Contradicts. This area, distorts. An oval rounds out, shimmers; misshapes. Bends. Such will. A hundred thousand hopes subject to fail.

The Prime Minister’s House is empty

The closest renovation. Upgrade. The great white hope. Façade. Gorffwysfa. Do designations matter? Set foot, first. Of rest, and residence. A clear day. Fluid dynamics; a basic foundation. The art of weaving. Hallowe’en. Will never accede to the body. Scaffolding. A bureaucratic, function. Cottage. Reconcile, please. For real. Be truth. They drain the pool.

Forty–seventh birthday

My annual nod, to origins. Pixilate. Birth mother: does she think of me? Ancillary. The compass hand. Water, such a fine conductor. Diction, sketchbook, herringbone. How we have each contributed to the meanings of words. If age a power source, of wisdom. Hardly. What’s that? Speak up, the cover band a set list. Don’t worry about all the problems in the world right now. Overheard: I love Tom Petty. A note that ends in tragedy. I think I finally understand. We have chicken wings, at least.

Self–portrait, extant

Exhaustion sets in. Accelerated meaning. By too lean a mix.  True, that. Am I not human? Green is the news. A narrative beckons. Absolute. Crossing a surface. Blood in the water. What I can relate to. Hard–core. What is interesting, conceptually. The universe: folds, and unfolds. We pretend we’re the centre. We have to. Take every precaution. Don’t cry. Our tomatoes, abundant. Despite our best efforts. Hold on. Hold. Listen. There was a light inside that. One can’t help but notice.