distant fading dulled blue mountains mist
cerulean eyes peek through rolling gray smatterings
rain’s aloneness petering her drops; quiet dribbles splash
outwardly radiant circular wakes renew the fresh
an already illogical current slowly skips over treasures beneath
chaotic babble chants to movements
a river’s concertos streaming in the key of cold
evergreenest grasses sprouting in spurts and clumps
bright colored wildflowers intermittently decorate her ostentatious banks
as he wades in toward the challenge; a thrown gauntlet of smooth rock
a natural outcropping base as platform
he stacks one rock atop another, atop another, atop another
in improbable, impossible, asymmetrical design
ordered without regard to size, weight, shape or color
randomly selecting whatever rocks the river offers
discerning surfaces support point and counterpoint complements
exploiting gravity with unconscious physics and body language
a wiggle this way, a lean that way, trying to find the balance within
“becoming the balance”; feeling it in your core
strong hands breathe stillness
his creation held with steady gaze and o’ so deep concentration
relaxing fingers first; then pulling his arms away to reveal
a consummation of peace
a manmade natural temple; testament to the art of patience
a magnificent mystery
a satisfying moment frozen in time
precariously awaiting eventual collapse

you helped me find my voice
I will not easily discard it
and your "suggestions" resemble commands
what you call a comfort zone
is me
my feelings
my way of thinking and speaking
my representations to the world
declarations of who and what
I am
contentment can be found there
for there is peace in me
success is formulated
not in well-rounded-ness
but in focusing on one's strengths
and many of my poems were not written
in or for comfort
they were labored in life's pain
I can write in other voices
the full human spectrum is inside us all
I can try different styles and forms
experiments and departures
I have a whole heart
with lifetimes of experience
to draw upon
but in the long run
in the end
even posthumously
I can be only me

somewhere in the past
before my grandfather's time
I paid a visit
back in my family tree
I'm not sure how it happened

I just closed my eyes
tried to think of nothing else
until I passed out
I awoke in a strange land
a time of horse and buggy

kept pinching myself
the pain was real enough
it wasn't a dream
but it was all very weird
no one could see or hear me

recognized the house
it was my family home
familiar faces
seeming contemporaries
but no one there that I knew

I couldn't stay long
felt the pull of the present
felt myself fading
when they posed for a portrait
I stood in the back and smiled

that's how it happened
the camera caught my image
looking like a ghost
a strange man standing in back
whom no one saw at the time

"There's a spirit there"
the family legend goes
"We call him Oscar"
today no one notices
old "Oscar's ghost" looks like me


Del Maximo
© October 8, 2009

the joy of breaching
have you ever seen stingrays fly?
not just popping their heads up
taking a quick peek at sky
but completely clearing the ocean
even doing alley-oop-summersaults
vertical 360's in mid air
strength and gracefulness
their flight as fluid as paper airplanes
the wetness of salt watered skin
shimmering in sunlight
dark gray against cerulean
fin wings flapping in wavy curly movements
outwardly oscillating like sound waves
wagging tails like happy dogs
leaping out of their element
with confidence and exuberance
and bidding onlookers to do the same

she came over last night
wearing a blue plaid shirt
sleeves rolled up and tails out
bustline buttons barely hanging on
squeezed into painted on pants
as usual
it had been some time
hadn’t heard from her in a while
we made a decision
then lost touch
so good to see her again
to lock eyes like we used to
brown peering into brown
then slow dancing till dawn
in my dimly lit bedroom
with curtains blowing soft in summer breezes
our legs interlaced
feeling my blood up on her hip
and  my knee between her thighs
while rocking side to side
two-stepping to the music
holding her close like this
her warm ******* full up on me
remembering everything we ever had
the moment frozen as the earth stood still
*** wasn’t imminent this time
because I knew it wasn’t real
it was just a memory
holding her close like this
and waking up knowing
this was the final goodbye

If I died tonight
if I closed my eyes to sleep
and never awakened
beyond the initial sadness
would anyone really care
did I make a difference
did my life truly matter
to anyone
or in the grander scheme
was I kind and generous
did I treat people well
thoughtful of their needs and wants
did I take care of myself
so others wouldn’t have to
did I hold a door for a stranger
and give food to someone hungry
did I look in a passerby’s eyes
and smile a greeting
did I live in a cave
or commune in a village
did I appreciate my circumstances
did I have fun and laugh often
did I get anything done
did I love anyone
and did anyone love me

sun’s light plays through disbursing clouds winding the day down; long legged spidery shadows
glinting reflections ignite phosphenes inside his closed eyes
cool finger-like breezes a sensual treat for warm body and tired mind
beyond papa’s peeling painted porch, sparse leaves on a rose bush’s bramble of dying brown branches sway and tickle with wind chimes
white wood railing diminished by dry rot
carnitas’ aroma remoras, zephyring eastward, riding in from a nearby restaurant; the faint perception of hunger
birds and traffic rush silently by; muted by hearing loss, drowned by tinnitus’ ringing and snapping
neon’s colors flash down the daytime street too far to read
miniature pedestrian people peddle in the distance, dwarfed by utility poles and power lines perspectively
from the hospital bed set up in his living room, he watches his open front door like tv
amidst a clutter within arm’s reach

knew a man who threw a ball
champion Reds
back in the day
he refused the anthem
for religious reasons
staying in the tunnel
till it was over
and no one ever knew

there’s a man now who throws a ball
refusing to stand for the anthem
not about religious rights
he stands on civil protest
citing police brutality
and social injustice
a simple nonviolent act
the courage to face public’s outcry
a willingness to accept
commercial monetary ramifications
placing heart above wallet

o, the uproar
the unmitigated gall
this spoiled rich athlete
should be grateful
for 19 million reasons
he should take the money and run
turning a blind eye
to the suffering of others
his allegiance has been
bought and paid for
how dare he think for himself
if he’s written any books
we should burn them
or abduct 300 of his girls

patriotism dictates
that he stand heartfeltedly
but conscience tells him otherwise
some say he should stay hidden
locked up in the locker room
as if Sister Rosa’s protest
would have been noticed
in the back of the bus

my parents came to this country
for a better life
for freedom and opportunity
I stand for the anthem
and the country it anthemises
I stand for the police
and the good works they do
but I also stand
for the right of others
to choose not to
after all
it’s not like police brutality
or social injustice
do not exist

let it all play out
see where it goes
after the outrage passes
as it always does
will his message be remembered?
was it ever even heard?
was it dismissed for patriotism’s sake?
he says he’ll sit until he sees some changes
I think he’ll have a long wait
till then, let’s go burn some books
or throw some tea in a harbor

it’s somewhere inside you
the place where poetry comes from
creativity’s corner
you search for it
playing hide and seek
with that spot in your brain
that area of artistry, inspiration and heart
“It’s a hemisphere shift”, they say
but they can’t tell you how to do it
how to make the jump from left to right
from logical to visionary
from specific memories to everything ever experienced
it seems to be a mysterious, unexplainable act
but it’s really quite simple
discovered incidentally
while getting into writing mode
just diffuse your eyes
changing your perspective
look at the things in front of you
survey the scene
focus on the big picture
drinking it all in
then, without moving your head
look elsewhere
put the big picture in the background
hold it in your peripheral vision
focus on one thing visually
or focus on nothing
practice it again and again
go from big picture to small picture
from infinity to macro
it’s like being inside yourself
like focusing on a phone call
instead of the world around you
or like indulging in a daydream
so go ahead and try it
narrow your focus with your mind’s eye
and step through the looking glass
to a place where ideas shoot like stars
and explode like sky rockets in a midnight sky

sitting in seclusion
on early morning's beach
with a friend
eating potato chips
talkin' 'bout life
he was jobless
I was playin' hooky
a gray sky hovered
cool winter breezes blew
for some reason
he thought his pain
was greater than others'
but he wouldn't talk about it
the chips were salty
seagulls screeched and cawed
the ocean crashed
life went on
but not for him

he was going to teach me how
to pick a lock and hot wire a car
but he went back to prison
I swear, he had a good heart
he was just livin’ the life he knew

adopted in infancy
an idyllic ranch life
going out barefoot and shirtless in the snow
to feed the horses
still, divorce happens
his mother got custody
but blanked out in permissiveness
allowing him whatever
she wanted to play good cop
as divorced parents sometimes do
he would disappear for a week
communing in the canyons; survival skills
drinking water by the rocks
checking jack rabbits for spots
“everything is seasonal” he would tell me
when his mother remarried a drunkard
my friend would don dark clothing and a ski mask
to rob his drunken step dad every payday
to put food on the table
you see, he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

leading a life of drugs
and not just using
he could drink his stuff but also liked Perrier
a life of crime
store front window smash and grabs
in stolen cars
getting involved with big time dealers
still, I swear he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

once asked him why
he never offered me drugs
“Why would I?” he replied
you see, a friend would never do that
he would jump up and say, “No!”
if I pretended to reach for a cigarette
--a regular cigarette
he knew well their addictive nature
knew his lungs were tweeked
and didn’t want me to ruin my voice
I had a beautiful voice
he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

sent to the fire camps up north
in his element in the woods
at peace with himself out in nature
knowledgeable, skillful, personable
upon release they told him
"stay clean till November"
he would have a job waiting for him
he had a good heart
but went back to the life he knew

the last time in prison
he “stuck” someone
it scared him because this time
he didn’t feel anything
didn’t ask him what he meant
we never talked about it again
still, I swear he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

he was in the hospital
last time we talked
he knew he was dying
his sister told me he was scared
it’s been a long time
but I think he was in his twenties
a life of hard times
a death in regret
surely God knew
he had a good heart
he was just livin’ the life he knew

got locked out today
came home from the grocery store
and couldn’t get in
wandered around
knocking on a couple of doors
looking for help
no one answered
never realized before
that a house without people in it
can be cold as stone
an older couple down the street
let me in and called a locksmith
such gracious, neighborly neighbors

as I sat waiting on my peeling painted porch
on a cool cloudy day
memories burrowed up like a mole
about how I wandered dreamlessly when young
just wanting to survive
thoughts of future shot down
by relative poverty and low self esteem
perhaps it was just delusion
once thinking that I could be anything
I wanted to be

we memorize the ***** and chains
we place on ourselves
like once tethered elephants
never straying from our post
it took a long time to come into me
it took a long time to come to like myself
it took a long time to come to love myself
but at times I still doubted
feeling the pull of my elephant’s chain
the tug of my tether
while wasting away where I stood

finally got myself together
and made plans
it tickles me to think
how I made God laugh

for a Lovely Lady

we're growing old and things have changed
our health ain't what it used to be
at times my eyes can't really see
fine print can be tough for me
my ears can buzz, snap and ring
flattening the notes I sing
my strength has gone the way of youth
and dentures now replace my tooths
my knees may creak and fingers ache
but emu oil works, for goodness' sake
I've earned my stripes and can't complain
we still enjoy walks in the rain
we may no longer be so young
but, Lord, we still have lots of fun
our time together is not over
as far as I can tell
we've plenty of moments for picnics in clover
and so many roses yet to smell

swaying leaves and shadows
afford an illusion of cool
complementing my tower fan
set on breeze
as I melt upon the couch
dressed in t-shirt and boxer briefs
blueness invades my eyes
looking out at palm trees
silhouetted in sky
I can’t complain
contrarily, I like it
fed my fat face with a Fatburger
downed with plenty of cold water
now I’m just chillin’
enjoying my socal summer
it would be nice to actually be at the beach
rolling with the waves, sand *****,
and scents of salt air
but that’s all inside me
day dream memories of being buried in sand
and dipping in ocean
floating
my diffused eyes stepping back from the heat
bathing me in timeless
endless summer

he saw razor wire atop perimeter walls
guards on walkways with rifles ready
“what have I gotten myself into”

early, early
driving out to the high desert
pulling over to check a map
I saw Easter sunrise in the Mojave
the rising dawn bending light’s spectrum
its pink brightness silhouetting
clumps of dark green sage brush
casting long spidery purple shadows
between streaks of golden light
as morning’******broke mountain’s peak

continuing on
I spied something moving in the distance
within a shroud of clouds
that was blanketing the ascending road
way high up ahead
tiny white angel wings came to mind
thought perhaps I was hallucinating
entertained the idea that I had crashed
and was going to heaven
as I got closer
driving through the warm mists
that strange movement proved to be
mundane yet fascinating
I’d never seen wind turbines before

I had never been to Tehachapi
got lost in the winding upper mountains
my friend told me to turn on valley road
but there was Bear Valley Road
Apple Valley Road
other valley roads
had to circle and back track through the greenery
but found my way

when I finally got to the prison
there was a long queue of cars
I passed them up to see what was happening
then drove back and got in line
a lot of visitors that day
to celebrate Easter in incarceration
but I was here for a pick up
I signed in and a guard called my name
Donnie came out
processed and ready
we shook hands and the guard let us leave
after I signed a release form

Don was always the get-away-driver
so as soon as we were away
from warden’s watchful eyes
I let him take the wheel
forgot to inquire if he had a valid license
he threw his gate money at me to hold
said, “that’s how much I trust you”
“I’d never let anyone else handle my money”

back downhill
driving through the desert
he heard a helicopter above
“they’re being VERY cool right now”
as he kept it at 70

approaching San Diego
we decided to take the scenic route
through the canyons
a treat for this city-boy
ascending once again on a lone highway
into dusky mountains

greenest hillsides were covered
with giant granite boulders
of all shapes and sizes
intelligently strewn in primordial design
an ancient herd of petrified buffaloes
frozen in time
foreshadowing the stampede of clumpy clouds
rampaging above in crisp cerulean

we happened upon a tickling town
people in period costumes
riding horse drawn coaches and carriages
selling jars of jams and jellies
too bad we didn’t stop and get out

back on the freeway
approaching the city
a cop car pulled up behind us
right up on my bumper
a uniform with a brown brim hat
probably a state trooper
intimidation tactics
hoping we would make a run for it
probably alerted to BOLO
for my friend
we froze at first
looking straight ahead
then I remembered to act natural
started talking to calm Don down
started pointing out the sights
along the freeway like a tourist
the cop gave up and backed off
I wondered if he thought
‘that must not be him’
or
‘these guys are good’
I’m sure he ran my license plate

I brought my friend home
met his mother and sister
bought some gas
(you don’t have to pay first)
and made the two hour drive home
just another day
in my boring life

I can’t remember Spring
can’t remember a cold May morning
with overcast skies
in the land of endless summer
roses bloomed in winter
guavas ripened in February
but I haven‘t heard the wrens
chirping and twittering
since we cut down the lemon tree
or the mocking birds
that used to nest there
seasons still turn
in changing climate’s confusion
but where have the blue jays
and butterflies gone?
the banana tree still grows
the native sweet potatoes spread
but it seems there were always flowers
and I miss the scent of night jasmine
the gardens have withered and browned
without her tender care

seasons cycle forth
leaves are changing their color
big yellow fruit fall
guavas are early this year
they probably miss her too

there are days when
the sun seems out of place
setting in the north
you don't know
what you need or want
and don't go looking for it

still, fate happens
an unexpected encounter
a bar, a club
a restaurant or church
the market parking lot
the office elevator
a coffeehouse

a meeting of eyes
a glint of sunshine
or lighting
a sweet perfume
an accidental touch
an unsolicited opinion

a want for company
and social connection
a need for intimacy
and softness
a gushing of blood
running on instincts

small talk conversations
a tentative trust
in this age of
STD's and AIDS

the door is closed
lights off (or on)
no clothing not optional
protection a must

the warmth of skin
the heat of passions
the sweat of effort
the grunts of climaxes
uttered or unuttered
smiling, thankful eyes
calming a beating heart
with deep breaths
caresses and stillness

no commitment or strings
a confluence of souls
a fork in the river
a parting of ways
call it maturity
call it immoral
or sinful
call it one and done
written in the vaults
of heaven

(for Barbara M.)

how do you say goodbye
to someone already gone
looking back with tired eyes
holding on to past lies
let hurt fade like roses
set heartache to wind

wishes made on shooting stars
dreams never meant to be
sad songs played on old guitars
still sing in my closed eyes
memories of you and me
we never said our goodbyes

wrapped up tight like a cocoon
a stone within my heart
reach deep inside and let it go
a butterfly's new wings
hold it high and make a wish
like dandelions to wind

got back in bed this morning
to visualize a healthier me
running on the beach
splashing in the froth
like a chariot of fire
the song playing in my mind's ear
but my image maker wasn't working
I lacked control
out of body and out to sea
the ocean's table glistening
I came across a sole blue whale
his back's expanse above water
eyes just below surface
he approached me slowly
without threat or fear
we held eye contact for a moment
a melding of minds
a baring of souls
in silent conversation
intense black irises told me
he was lonely
I thought he wanted
to speak of his plight
his species' endangerment
ecology's pollution
his journey's migration
seeking food and warmer waters
instead, he was looking at me
discerning my life
and mankind in general
wondering if everything
will be all right

(for Barbara M.)

crisp crystal skies
bring out the smiles in your eyes
the warmth of your embrace
holds my heart
somewhere between dreams
deep within love’s wounds
my joy came back
my happiness

in midnight’s lust
you’re the one I trust
to love me so tenderly
filling my emptiness
keeping me safe
and unafraid
somewhere between dreams
deep within love’s wounds
you came into my life

cuddling with a kind, strong man
on a wintry secluded beach
wrapped in love’s blanket
there’s only you and me
gazing into deep blue sea
somewhere between dreams
through the wounds of my heart
my happiness dared to ask
a cry in my wilderness
calling out to be heard
and the answer that came back
was you

they were the last to see her
alive and conscious
a post-surgical stint in rehab
meant to be a temporary stop
on the road home
they said she was asking for me
she said I was the one
who knew about her health
then they laughed
don’t know if they found her situation
laughable
or if they were mocking her
for asking for me

I understand a gallows laugh
immaturity’s release
when one can’t fathom or process
laughing in helplessness
not grasping onto gravity
heads in the ground
in plain sight

next morning she was found
unresponsive and bleeding
cardiac arrest en route back to ER
upon doctor’s prognosis
we agreed to let her go
ER and ICU proved to be her last stop
on her way home to eternity
I know they’re not laughing now
I hope they regret it
but I can’t seem to forget it
I don’t think I ever will

for Steph

a shroud of low clouds
dampens the cemetery’s mood
a chubby stone cherub
sits amidst the mists
his green gold patina
weathering the cycling seasons
throughout the years
bathed in spring’s renewal
April’s showers and morning’s dews
basked in summer’s thermal waves
expanding like the days
chilled in the crisp crackle
of autumn’s change
enduring bitter snows
of frozen white winters
but every Christmas Eve he’s comforted
moved by dance of candles
warmed by heavenly halos’ glow
little cathartic coronas twinkling
like a mother-made indoor constellation
commemoratively flickering on her mantle
in annual visual manifestation
of her lifelong heartstrings
illuminated by the depth of their reach
honoring her child
her little angel
born too soon
and too perfect
for this world

dark clouds blowing in
rolling with ocean's westerly wind
large gradient gray splotches
randomly dispersed by natures asymmetry
sunlight filtering lightly
through a background of confusion
an afternoon's surprise
soft, steady showers
hardly offsetting 40 days and 40 nights
of Winter and Spring drought
but still inspiring happy dances
walks with umbrellas
and ice cream cones
in the fresh scent of sea air
and the mustiness of Summer rain

thinking of Pops
with Fathers Day looming
at the witching hour
saw someone give CPR
in a movie today
brought it all back
trying to keep count
while pumping his chest
watching his first gasp of breath
I thought he’d be all right
just like in the movies
but he didn’t keep breathing
so I just kept pumping
till the paramedics arrived

I know other details intellectually
I know his eyes shot upward
so I could only see the whites
but I can’t picture that anymore
thankfully

the image that remains strong
is that deep gasping breath
a whole upper body heave
just like in the movies
when they regain consciousness
I thought he’d be all right
but I had to keep pumping

with that deep gasp
I thought he’d come back
like a newborn baby
awakening to life

elevator was full
when the bell 'dinged' and the doors opened
on the geriatric floor
mom was lost in the back
intimidated by the crowd
she held out her hand
for me to pull her through
some folks chuckled
with their haughtiness and sun glasses
such silly, ignorant people
I guess they thought I had an old girlfriend
from then on
whenever she needed to
she would hold out her hand
for me to help her

got to know her better
in her old age
learned to ignore her crankiness
and façade of always knowing better
just watching tv and joking with her
evoking a giddy laugh
or a toothless smile
drawing her bath
seeing to her needs and comfort
dealing with her doctors
eyeballing her meds and diet
comforting her tears

paramedics whisked her to ER
they found a tumor in her stomach
her children and grandchildren kissed her
on her cheek and forehead
en route to pathology's biopsy
when they rolled her bed past me
I gave her a thumbs up
hoping she would return it
instead, she held out her hand
she must have been scared
I held if for a moment's reassurance
but this time I couldn't pull her through
she survived the surgery
but never made it home

in the fourth grade
his father showed him
******* a man
by breaking his neck
my young friend demonstrated
“first push, then pull”
he got expelled
for unknown reasons
transferred to another school
didn’t see him again
till Jr. High

he didn’t have the grades
to get into my classes
except for P. E.
we enjoyed playing football
and basketball
one time some crazy dude
decided to jump on my back
I cracked him in the head with an elbow
he was dazed and said
“nobody hits me in the ******’ head”
as he staggered and backed down
I heard my friend proudly telling others
about it (hehe)

still the same old bad boy
but he was always cool with me
the things people said about him
stuff he did with a dog
a total lack of respect for women
he got convicted for ******
a seventy year old lady
he says he didn’t do it

part of the crack generation
with all that went with that
dealin’ and usin’s cycle of survival
I heard he got beaten up
nearly to death
and mysteriously dropped off
at E.R.’s door
he says the police did it
strangely
despite his corrupt ways
he was always candid
and seemed honest
it makes me wonder

saw him at Tito’s
getting tacos with his girl
he had cleaned up well
driving a Cadillac
with a Christian crown
in the rear window

ran into him at the corner
the liquor store near my job
he had been clean for three years
that last time I saw him
now he was living in that Caddy
with his big brother
back in the alley
he told me he was sick of this ****

caught me up with the boys
who had died
who got sick
who got sick and died
he asked if my car
was in the parking lot everyday
like he was gonna come and find me
I told him not to
he needed to go downtown
get to a shelter
to a program

as I turned to walk away
he called out, “love you”
I turned to face him
still back peddling towards the car
tapping my fist on my heart

he's been on my mind lately
still pining for dad
like a child

so many years ago
they said life had gone from him
and even if they could revive him
he had no brain activity
they worked on him on the floor
the official place of death
and left him there for the police
no foul play found
they allowed us to lift his still warm body
onto dignity's bed
my brother had his feet and legs
I had his upper body
lifelessness' limpness surprised me
I almost dropped him as his head fell back
I sat down and a deep breath held my heartbeat
till a loud, slow heave depleted my lungs
I could hear the girls' huddled sobs from another room
a dark carriage came to carry him into dusk
I wanted to run after him
and touch him one more time
like a child

now and then he creeps into my dreams
I can feel the timbre of his voice
laugh at his idiosyncratic antics
reach a hand onto his shoulder
hold him in my memory
then wake up and say good bye
like a child

Del Maximo
© 07/30/13

hunger has me now
gurgling gastric grumbling
my stomach speaks loud
drowning out the yearning sounds
in my silent empty heart

clear light skin
dark hair with big curls
he resembled a kid we used to babysit
slight in stature
humble in posture
a look of shock and disbelief
deep seated in his baby face
and bubble eyes
his demeanor saying
“I don’t belong here”
a soft peach colored long sleeved shirt
clean, pressed and tucked in
with pants pulled up
no gangbangers’ stereotype
a picture of innocence
clearly a child
being tried as an adult

I kept close watch
during jury’s selection
with the miracle of real-time captioning
listening with my eyes
darting from screen
to arena’s drama
back to screen
observing potential jurors’ interaction with
defending and prosecuting mouthpieces
body language says so much
trumpeting the seriousness

with capital punishment looming
jurors absorbed spiels
the presumption of innocence
the credibility of evidence
the ability to objectively choose death

I would tell myself
the defendant didn’t just do this
to the decedent
I would tell myself
the defendant did this to himself
I would tell myself
it’s not my job to decide
if he lives or dies
I would tell myself
only to decide
if the crime defines death’s statute
all personal feelings aside
but I’d also tell myself
this is just a kid

thank God
I wasn’t selected

two dear friends
have lost their husbands
just days apart
verily they comforted me
at my times of loss
yet I can’t find the words
I ache for them
but my tongue is twisted
my keyboard locked
perhaps that realm
is still too painful for me

they say that love
is such exquisite pain
shared intimately by two lucky ones
beyond bedrooms
throughout the life they carve
while traipsing the universe
unalone

loss, then, is the obverse
the looking glass’ opposite side
through which survivors see
the lives their love has touched
where mourners share eloquent memories
embedded in their Brownian motion
movie clips etched inside closed eye lids

is it possible to walk alone
after having known
such infinite endlessness?
does love stop at death's door?
you see it in a stream of colors
shooting towards the sky
you see it in the misplaced moon
hiding in the sprucetops

the loss will always make you sad
but the memories will make you happy
and that exquisite pain in your heart
is but a measure of the love you feel
present tense
for one another

the elders say the sky is changing
stars aren’t where they should be
Earth has shifted her axis
misaligning the heavens

driving home on date night
respite from daily’s grind
ice cream cones and country songs
breezing through open windows
with Charlie in the back
wailing and wagging to the music
spruces swaying in clear evening sky
“stop the car”, she said
“the moon isn’t where it’s supposed to be”
he rolled his eyes and got out with her
Steph, Mel and Charlie on his leash
trekking a quick adventure
searching for the misplaced moon
walking in the beauty of the night

it took a short while
but they found her in the tree tops
shining in full magnificence
conversing with Venus and Mars
while the man on the moon stole a kiss


Del Maximo
©06/16/2016

he adorns the dawn
and brightens the earth
basking us in ultraviolet
he warmly coaxes a reassurance
in the promise of a new day
he brings sunlight to the world
so eyes can see
and he never stops giving
at day’s end he colors the sunsets
relinquishing sky to moon

she casts dreams in shades of silver
her phases waxing and waning
in quarters of human understanding
freedom of the leash
gives her leeway to appear in daytime
or blackout in the night
but her path is mapped in almanacs
her cycle set in cement
even scripture says the earth will continue
as long as the moon shines

clouds can cover him
but the sky is ever present
beyond the gloom and teariness
he is a fixture of blue
and truest blue the day after the storm
cerulean by day
he holds the air we breath
the color of midnight keeps the stars
an infinity pool with no end
a depth unperceptible to naked eyes

she holds the sky’s horizon
along her ultramarine mesa
day and night
she crashes every beach party
with her rolling hula hands
thundering onto sand
her swells rising and rippling
with her music’s ebb and flow
no one has ever seen the ocean stop
even when she’s standing still

daily sun
nightly moon
endless, ever present sky
ocean’s perpetual motion
nature runs like clockwork
why are people so unreliable?

the world was good
light shown through the dark void
waters parted to reveal dry land
Flora and Faunus presided
over primordial paradise
the green earth breathed crisp
cerulean skies
stars twinkled laser-like
through the unpolluted vastness
and every month a dragon
swallowed the moon
lions and lambs played peacefully
roses bloomed in deserts
rivers and oceans teemed
with every kind of cat and dog fish
buffalo roamed by the millions
and chickens came before eggs
nightingales sang songs
with humpbacks
butterflies flapped their wings
without consequence
the earth was new
the garden was fresh
then God created man

shadows of rolling clouds
changing my mood
a herd of buffalo stampeding sky
intermittently blotting out my mind
with flashbacks of sun
the days are warm
the days are cool
Meteora is consistently confused
do patterns exist in chaos?

the world is racing faster it seems
its pendulum tick talking quickly
hate rears ugly reminders to love
to tolerance and neighborly acts
calls for peace
cell phones ringing rapid-fire-like
attempting to communicate with the dead
a worst rated shooting on American soil
leaving family, friends and strangers
questioning, “Why?”
dance club mourners echoing
our schools and movie theatres
for pain and loss
can happen anywhere

the game has changed
they’re shooting more threes
vitriolic rhetoric runs rampant
he hates everyone not like him
she lies to your face
both seeking glory over service
popularity trumps decency
in this age of reality celebrities
talent has lost its voice
seems it’s all about money
poisoning the earth and its people
GMO’s and pharmaceuticals and pesticides
OH MY!
each new generation a product of its times
can we turn back the clock?
should we even try?
if we knew now what we knew then
would we be better off?

so hard to see the heavens
beneath the city lights
their brightness and the city air
restrict the pupils' sight

still, sky gazing intrigues me
the moon, the stars, the planets
the texture of their distances
the colors of their fire

once, after a windy day
strong gusts blustering constantly
I looked up into midnight's velvet
unveiled from pollution's filter

so many stars up in my eyes
sheer numbers I'd never witnessed
as I watched in wonderment
drinking in the multitude

a streak of light cut through the film
the slightest, sharpest nick
a streak of light swept through my mind
so fine, so white, so quick

first shooting star I'd ever seen
I reveled in delight
standing agape I made a wish
upon this glorious sight

there's a shadow in the house
lurking in the kitchen and hallway
sometimes peeking out
into the living room or dining area
I catch its movement peripherally
a flash in the corner of my eye
gone before I turn my head to look
a ghost of the past?
a haunting in the present?
a purposeful visitation?
something insidious?
imagination's figment?
should I be afraid of karma's regurgitation
or comforted as I sit alone?
or is it just a shadow
the movement of leaves and branches
breezing in the window's wind
outside this cold, drafty old house

it floated down from a street sign
without a single flap
floating down slowly
as if by parachute
like a single feather
gliding on a current
or a dandelion seed
fulfilling a wish
its sleek black wingspan spread
using tail feathers for balance
landing on concrete with a gentle hop
was it an omen of sorts?
a black bird crossing in front of you
portending a warning?
or was it a metaphor for life?
following signs
choosing your way
traversing gently if you can
arms outstretched, all encompassing
appreciating each moment
keeping your balance
always landing on your feet
knowing you can fly

the boy could sing
even took professional instruction
was told he had a beautiful voice
by singers he respected and admired
and he knew how to use it
he loved singing out load
choir or solo
songs or vocal exercises
emotional range and dynamics
full voice, in character
transporting him to joyful
but he seems to be losing it
progressive hearing loss
makes him unsure

gave away his guitar
chords smelled garbage-like
gave away his cello
he couldn’t hear her voice
but he kept the flutes
beautiful bamboo flutes
and shakuhachis
handcrafted by a magic man

he picked it up quickly
people thought he’d been paying for years
they would stop to listen
complimenting his clear tones
one professional flute player
heard him playin’ from ‘round the corner
came across the street to see
told him he played “whole heart and soul”

he only sings to himself now
voice is a body part
talent plays role
but body just knows how
to listen with ears
and repeat with voice or fingers
his ears no longer hit
on all cylinders
his hammer and anvil out of tune
he understands now
why Lucy couldn’t find her notes
they’re hiding somewhere
behind a brain cloud

the last one to hear him said
“you used to play so beautifully”
if it were just a matter
of fingers on holes
anyone could do it
but it’s something inexplicable
a mind/body gestalt
more spiritual then physical

he plays now to remember
go like this and that’s a ‘G’
go like this, that’s a ‘C’
reminding the body
retraining the brain
rebuilding the memory
refinding the fun
reclaiming the heart

an easterly wind
blows down into the basin
heat of compression
warming up the desert floor
stirring up the night's passion

the waters gathered
as oceans parted ways
revealing the dry ground
tectonic confrontations pushed
mountains awakened
with a stretch and a yawn
their opened mouths
echoing the call
of hidden treasures

she used to sing around the house
songs from the Hit Parade
there was a little transistor radio
slim, dark green with a telescoping antenna
kept on the kitchen windowsill
she would listen to music
singing along while cooking and cleaning
or going solo a Capella
Rosemary Clooney, Della Reece
Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams
Jo Stafford Weston
she told me that when ‘Daddy” was in the hospital
he had his favorites
Don’t You Know and You’ll Never Know
he asked her to sing them again and again
her singing came from a good place
somewhere deep inside her
a place where she could just be herself
apart from life’s responsibilities
far away from the roles of wife
and mother to too many children
leaving behind the frustrations
of carrying on in poverty’s face
if only for the moment it took
to sing a song
she would sing about pyramids and sunrises
about a lady with an enigmatic smile
cheating hearts and when she might fall in love
and we learned all those songs  too
as her hearing worsened
she stopped singing
as if she lost a piece of herself
she’s gone now
but we still have those memories
a musical legacy for her talented children

fourth of nine
I was nineteen years young
when he asked me to stay
he went “back home” and got a young wife
knew he would pass before her
asked me again when I was twenty three
crediting my older brothers
as having lives of their own
I guess he thought I wasn’t entitled
to mine

at first resentful
feeling trapped unfairly
especially since I was never a favored child
but ended up not minding obligation’s onus
appreciating her more in her elderly fragility
realizing a caretaker’s privilege
even underneath the family’s
unappreciative eyes

when he had his “fatal” heart attack
I’m glad I was there
to administer CPR
but I carry the question always
did I really help him?
or did I prolong his suffering
for two and a half months?

after awakening
from semi comatose’s state
his memory was in and out
some were upset
by his lack of recognition
but he never forgot me
and in that I take solace

he reiterated his wish
on his deathbed
like an anointing
its oil poured upon my forehead
and radiating inside me
he thought I was good enough
and equal to the task

 
I’ll never forget his final words
a barely audible muttered plea
that I figured out later
he raised his eyebrows and nodded
with a seemingly joyful expression
as if we had an agreement
he closed his eyes
and went to sleep

if GOD is truly everywhere
and everything
then death is not a going home
nor a return to the DIVINE
although life leaves the body
and ashes turn to dust
essence remains
transitioning to the realization of
DIVINE omnipresence
you were never apart from GOD
and could never find a place
where HE is not
if you believe your dearly departed
is with GOD
then just look around you
GOD is everywhere

he died at home
an early morning 911
pronounced him dead
police ruled out foul play
his recent medical history
avoided autopsy

through shock, numbness and tears
she finally fell asleep that night
sitting in a kitchen chair
laying her head to rest
on the table
her daughter came next day
to clean the room
make it livable
she mentioned a certain smell
her daughter didn’t notice it

later that night she went into the room
with a freshening fragrance
to her surprise
although it hadn’t worked in years
the ceiling fan was on
the room cool and odorless
was he present?
and thinking of her?
she laid down to rest
in reassurance’s comfort
and cried herself to sleep
thinking of him

searching for meaning in muck’s mire
crawling on knees and elbows
in hills and valleys of gray matter
weeding through memories
turning them like mulch
refreshing the mind’s soil
nourishing a heart shrouded in fibrillation
a cool wind freezes time
and winds the clocks backward
he sees himself in past’s mirror
looking into his eyes
he finds a place of pensive calm
contemplating the stillness
he recalls uncomplicated beginnings
wafting in the smells of adolescence
waves crashing on the jetty
campfire on the beach
hot dogs cooked on wire hangers
barefoot midnight football on the sand with the girls
blowin’ a little **** in darkness’ solitude
an occasional airplane taking off overhead
drowning out discussion on a utopian society
endorphins heightening recollections
pre-adulthood times before mistakes and regrets
before the bad news grabbed the headlines
keeping discontentment’s seeds deep inside
sprouting an irregular heartbeat
he wonders how it could come to this
never had much growing up
doesn’t have much now
never thought much of himself
just living day to day
with garnishments on a part-time salary

in the fourth grade
his father showed him
******* a man
by breaking his neck
my young friend demonstrated
“first push, then pull”
he got expelled
for unknown reasons
transferred to another school
didn’t see him again
till Jr. High

he didn’t have the grades
to get into my classes
except for P. E.
we enjoyed playing football
and basketball
one time some crazy dude
decided to jump on my back
I cracked him in the head with an elbow
he was dazed and said
“nobody hits me in the ******’ head”
as he staggered and backed down
I heard my friend proudly telling others
about it (hehe)

still the same old bad boy
but he was always cool with me
the things people said about him
stuff he did with a dog
a total lack of respect for women
he got convicted for ******
a seventy year old lady
he says he didn’t do it

part of the crack generation
with all that went with that
dealin’ and usin’s cycle of survival
I heard he got beaten up
nearly to death
and mysteriously dropped off
at E.R.’s door
he says the police did it
strangely
despite his corrupt ways
he was always candid
and seemed honest
it makes me wonder

saw him at Tito’s
getting tacos with his girl
he had cleaned up well
driving a Cadillac
with a Christian crown
in the rear window

ran into him at the corner
the liquor store near my job
that time I saw him
he had been clean for three years
now he was living in that Caddy
with his big brother
back in the alley
he told me he was sick of this ****

caught me up with the boys
who had died
who got sick
who got sick and died
he asked if my car
was in the parking lot everyday
like he was gonna come and find me
I told him not to
he needed to go downtown
get to a shelter
to a program

as I turned to walk away
he called out, “love you”
I turned to face him
still walking towards the car
back peddling
tapping my fist on my heart

still down but uplifted
fortified by friends, family
and friends of family
touching my heart with their prayers
with hands clasped
or palms up in supplication
or fingers tapping keyboards
spoken or unspoken
your words to God's ears
my frustrations alleviated
through your kind thoughtfulness
my spirit roused by your intentions
as I lay in bed this morning
moved by your kindness
I lifted my hands in praise and thanks
they tingled with grace and vibes
a manifestation of your love
good feelings overcame my moodiness
my mind reset on healing's path

friends come and go
loved ones pass
fruit is seasonal
jobs not vocation
my hands have steered
four steering wheels
clothes and shoes wear
houses have termites
I can't find my hammer
estates are contested
health is for the healthy
art is opinion
gain and loss
equate peak and valley
with flatline meridian
happiness and challenges
are temporal
like grains of sand
sifting between toes
life is sweat
sweat is good
through everything
I keep the faith
hold onto hope
and work on my dreams

(C) 03/31/15

it’s amazing how much you think of food
when you don’t have much
stretching out the week
with whatever you have
hot dogs and eggs
food pantry vegetables
and stale bread
quelling my hunger
deliciously

sometimes I take my pulse
to remind myself that I’m alive
I am, I think, but is that living?
is a beating heart the same
as having a life?
thump…thump…thump…thump…

forever settling
happy to have what I could get
a kid in a candy store
only able to see
what was within arm’s reach

the dignity we trade
for survival in life’s jungle
staying in ****** jobs
under under-appreciative management
waking and watching the world
with dispirited eyes
then realizing it’s all our own fault

but everything is temporary
a moment only lasts a moment
and life goes fast
you have to  keep dreaming
REM’s in perpetual motion
blueprints drawing forth
from the back of your mind

o, to find what you love to do
to became the creator
to see in the mirror
the person you want to be
to work hard and
put your life on the line
to soar with masters
of cerulean skies
to want something so bad
it makes you cry

for Yarrow

the sun rose at dawn
its filtering soft brightness
gradually warming
the coolness of the wee hours
awakening chirping birds
opening morning glories
giving sunflowers focus

the day begins like any other
a stretch
a yawn
a cup o’ joe
a new day’s problems and delights
yesterday’s thoughts lingering
fresh ideas sprouting
in a fertile mind’s garden

but on this day
so many years ago
a child was born
her beauty springing forth
like Venus on a seashell
with the morning’s radiance
emanating from her innocence
and life echoing in her first cry