Cuttings
October
Michael P. Garofalo
October
North Sacramento Valley, California
evening breeze -
yellow poplar leaves
letting go
Bucketfuls of words
to water a tiny idea --
the reader sweats.
Flagpole lanyard clanking
in the brisk breeze--
news of war.
A lightning flash--
thousands die
in the blink of an eye.
gate ajar
twisted hinges
creaking
wind
A fly on my finger
rubs his feet--
every hair alive.
The lingering shock
chokes us up--
rubble still smoldering.
Shaded by a towering oak
she sleeps--
Little Chico Creek quiet.
Moonlit garden:
Something ...
Moving in the bushes.
Every yellow leaf
dances with the north wind--
red pomegranates glow.
Behind the iron Buddha's
straight back--
a cricket chirping.
Pulling up
twisted tomato vines--
long autumn shadows.
Half the leaves
fallen away--
dead salmon streamside.
Rumbling thunder
through the drone of rain--
folding the flag.
Frozen blood
on Afghan hills--
crisp yellow ribbons
I was thinking about "the Absolute"
(whatever that is)
yesterday. (Philosophers enjoy
the rush of mental masochism:
bondage to leathery ideas,
painful flagellation with cutting words,
the humiliation of utter confusion.)
Absolute Zero - Death!
Clearly, a deep shivering Super-Conducting
Absolute No.
Then,
The Past: a second ago, a century ago...
Dead Time - absolutely kaputt!
.
Facing off, fists up,
eyeballs to eyeballs;
two boys gather a crowd.
Stalled imagination, repeating plot's old,
A dull shovel lifting wiser men's gold.
Thinking when reading, otherwise not;
Museless, unleavened, a nondescript pot.
Sweat soaked shirt--
a tiny fly
wiggles his wings.
Blasting Blaring Horn!
Clacking
Tumbling Wheels of Steel -
lumber Rolling south.
Shells of Chevrons Fade to Powerout
Gleaming gas pumps
In the fluorescent night,
Slaves of the Almighty Dollar,
Pouring hot octanes
Into the bellies of Chevies.
Ding! Ding! Gallons go down.
Wallets open and fold.
Acid fogs melt steel-belted moons.
Headlights come and go, flashing
By the dry Lakes of Petro.
A dead end ahead, everywhere;
For us, for OPEC, for Fords.
[One Short of a Baker's Dozen]
Brown hands
picking black olives--
shady grove.
An acorn falls--
six generations
cooled in deep shade.
The cat
leapt onto my lap--
cold floor.
Two
kid Draculas,
one
after the other--
blue
moon.
Step by little step
she inches forward--
cold hospital floor.
To dance at the
still point of the Time beyond time,
Beyond pasts, within futures, this Moment
Now and forever, beyond minds.
Not knowing of Who or why
We stroll in rose gardens, and Love.
Precious flowers in the sky.
Chimney smoke rises
from house after house--
hazy autumn foothills.
October - Quotes, Poems, Folklore, Chores
The bowels of darkness, grim and cold,
Turning the heads of the hunted, young and old,
Fearing the rattle in the weeds. White teeth,
Prowling predators, hard claws unsheathed,
Ears up listening, listening, still as knives,
Fangs barred, dripping tongues, hungry eyes.
Dawn bleeds, stars hide;
Foggy gray blue fields
Emerge from the Edge of Night.
Rowdy the Rottweiler
My big
black dog burst on by
at lickety-split,
his four legs flying
in a sideways sprint,
his is mouth wide open,
drooling spit.
A wolf spider crawls
between the dog's brown legs;
dusty concrete.
A June beetle:
yellow striped, still, alone,
quietly dying.
Between the great black rolling stormclouds
sunbeams dropped
Here and there on the Great Valley floor. The gentle first rain
Lifted up the scent of yearning from the thirsty clay soil.
Cool winds shook the crinkled cottonwood leaves free.
The black puddles danced with raindrops.
Summertime slipped away.
Sycamore leaves
piled on the
weeds--
pumpkins smiled.
In her hands,
pictures of our wedding;
touching memories.
dusty black shoes
tired tongues turned outside,
white socks inside
His wobbly old trailer,
surrounded with trash--
Social Security Estates.
See the Big Picture
in the smallest of details--
unfolded map.
Ribbon of freeway
shimmering over low beams--
flashing
red taillights.
Tai Chi Chuan at dawn
stirring a dreaming soul:
lifting, lifting -- Awake!
In the dimming days--
suddenly Chrysanthemums
open
my dry eyes.
A yellow moon
Crosses the night--
Friday the 13th
Such tiny lives:
these spider eggs,
those birds in the sky.
Sleeping all the time,
flies on her full gray face;
my old dog's last days.
Autumn - Quotes and Poems for Gardeners
Yellowing, falling,
blowing over dry grasses--
unfolding autumn.
Paying the bills
for the
broken foot--
the
other shoe falls.
warm sweater
cozy sock cap--
late
October
Prunes pruned,
acres of piled putamen--
Latins' laboring.
Working, I squat,
suddenly fart--
everyone giggles.
Below floating toilet paper
a huge
brown turd--
graffiti
verses on "only farted."
Exchanging glances,
two cows munching as I pass--
the whiff of green hay.
just one
Trick - or - Treater tonight
just one
Locked out,
key inside:
Hassles ahead.
Blue oaks
Dropping dry leaves
Before
Shasta's Throne
exhausted
time drowns
sinking into sleep
Cuttings - Autumn - Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
without wood
the walls of our world
would collapse
Falling
on the dusty path--
October rain.
Distant thunder
muffled by the downpour;
the desklamp flickers.
Raindrops splatter
on the hard dry earth;
dark day.
Bridal shower
naughtiness:
phallus candles dripping.
good North, good South
good East, good West,
good here, bad wherever
Windows opening
slowly;
old hard drive.
Bird-pecked pears
shrivel on a bare branch;
a cool breeze.
walking into
falling leaves--
a moonlit path
sweet dreams:
placing fudge
on mom's casket
The gopher snake
hisses and shakes--
the dog's hackles up.
plastic skeletons
scattered by pranksters,
resting in pieces
This Halloween night, we cut and eat,
Fuyu persimmons, firm and sweet.
nonlocal minds
keeping out of touch
outside space and time,
an eyeless bunch, not saying much.
mouthless, what can they say?
they can't even pray.
Raisins clustered
among the leafless vines--
mementos of summertime.
risas en
un olivar--
lunchtime
Moving under the latticehouse shade,
Two toads and I, and flies;
Restless eyes from hunger made.
Wide-eyed staring into the Rich silence
Of mirrored space devoid of mind;
Not projecting or connecting, but reflecting
Supreme non-fictions, Things
Naked as they are, as they are ...
Lightening storm--
under the desk
my cowering dog.
She retouches
His
Spiky hair--
School picture day.
the toad
hop by hop towards
Shasta
A ball of blackbirds
rolling in the wind--
grasses bow southward.
bitter pills 10
Life is an open book in a language we can't read.
Doing something involves undoing something.
Independence depends on others.
Blame is often a dirty mirror.
"God's Will" explains little except resignation.
When your "problem free" your dead.
Shasta Bolly covered with snow;
Full ponds circled by yellow willows.
closing doors
where there were none--
the debate ends
mob rocks
gunshots
Wailing Walls
Jerusalem 2000
Cuttings - Autumn - Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Saba Maki
Every Thursday afternoon, in the autumn of 1999, well before my evening
T'ai Chi Ch'uan class,
I enjoyed a fine meal at the Tokyo Garden Restaurant in Redding.
Bowls, plates, cups, chopsticks
glasses of Sapporo beer--
fine Saba Maki.
hot, hot
nostrils flared--
wasabi
A bubble poised
on the mouth of my cold beer
reflects: popped - gone.
soy sauce stains
on my silk tie--
careless pleasures
Redwood National Park
Stone
Lagoon and sky
become one--
deepening fog.
Traffic halted
to clear a rockslide;
the scent of cedars.
Carcass smells;
vultures ripping up
a beached whale.
[Green Canyons]
Last Kiss
C
L
I
m
hard a softens
fast x slowly
her smell
lingers on my
lips;
catching my
breath
silently
closing the back
door,
our affair ends
[One Short of a Baker's Dozen]
Gun II Fire
On September 28, 1999, at dawn, a fire started in the Ishi Wilderness, near Mill Creek and Flat Iron Mountain, twenty miles east of our home. The fire spread quickly, fueled by low humidity, high winds, and ample dry grass and shrubs. A monstrous column of smoke, three miles wide, rose up to 10,000 feet and then spread out for five miles in the otherwise clear blue sky.
By October 4th, this fire, named "Gun II," had burnt over 59,000 acres, and was being fought by over 3,100 firefighters. Many firefighters were injured and one died as they struggled to control this ferocious blaze. Ash and brown haze smothered all of the the North Sacramento Valley.
On October 6th, the first light rainstorm of the season sounded the final notes of Taps over the battlefield of Gun II. Now, only the black bony skeletons of manzanitas, oaks, and gray "Digger" pines remained bent over the charred bare earth. Ishi's homeland is a graveyard of soot.
Set in gray haze a
Red sun in the morning sky
Blesses the firestorm
Morning fires ablaze
Lassen shrouded in black haze
Everyone sneezing
Bad air!
No PE outside--
antsy teenagers.
Palo Cerdo Fire
on October 16th:
vast walls of flame.
screaming fire trucks.
fast fleeing families.
sixty homes gone.
crisp black mice.
charbroiled skunks.
black manzanita.
firewoman dead.
ashes on green leaves.
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Haiku Poetry
Links, References, Guides
Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Haiku, Couplets, Senryu, Free Verse, Quatrains, Concrete, Fragments
Master Index
Comments about the Poetry Notebooks of Mike Garofalo
One
Short of a Baker's Dozen
Sonnets, 10-16 Line Poems
By Michael P. Garofalo
The
Body as Audience
by
Ann Gleeson
Quotes
for Gardeners
Quotes, Sayings, Proverbs, Poetry, Maxims, Quips,
Clichés, Adages, Wisdom
A Collection Growing to Over 2,700 Quotes Arranged by Over 130 Topics
Many of the Documents Include Recommended Readings and Internet Links.
Over 6 MB of text.
Compiled by Michael P. Garofalo
Pulling
Onions
The Quips and Observations of a Gardener
By Michael P. Garofalo
Copyrighted © 1999 - 2002 by Michael P. Garofalo. All rights reserved.
I Welcome Your Comments
E-mail Mike Garofalo in Red Bluff, California
A Short Biography of Michael P. Garofalo
Michael P. Garofalo's Poetry Notebook II
Cuttings: Autumn - October.
125K, 26 October 2002, Version 4
Distributed on the Internet since October 1, 1999.
Cuttings: Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
