|Junket in the Spring
DUET AT SUNSET
I heard a mother sing
I hold a Symphony that brings
Me peace and gives me faith
A dream of many colors
The wind stirs up and hollers
Feel free to go a new direction
Hereís a chilly kiss for comfort
The mother retorts
Be still heart
My songs are nightmares and prayers
Painted with the hues of this Windy Bay
QUE PETITE SIRAH, SIRAH
for Mike Dunne
I hear what the guests say
Big, dense, robust and rambling
Where is his modesty?
He shoulders the food aside
Heís got too much muscle for the table
Too full of himself to sit with us
But who knows my real name?
Or whatís behind my ripe berry smile
Go on about my tell-tale peppery spiciness
Say what you will about my grinding tannins
I may not be supple on the dance floor
But Iíll leave the party with a royal flush
While all the zinfandels rush for power
This is magic.
Itís the technology
The burned, twisted bodies
are real. The beauty
No, you canít blow it up
even if it is the damned home
of the atom bomb.
Your feeling is a path
and when the path splits
sit until the mountain crumbles.
Stay strong for the child of the world.
Bio: Richard Denner was uneducated in Berkeley, California, during the 60s,
self-exiled into the Alaskan woods, printing on a 1927 Kesey hand press
small, smudgy chapbooks, graduating from University of Alaska, Fairbanks,
1972. Proprietor of Fourwinds Bookstore and Cafť in Ellensburg, Washington,
he turned this institution over to his son and then connected with Tara
Manadala, a Tibetan Buddhist Retreat Center in Colorado, until he was called
back to the Bay Area to care for his elderly parents. You are invited to
visit his website: dpress