One of my favorite small press journals is Porcupine, published by Buz and Vicki Reed in Wisconsin. Three of my poems appeared in this edition.
The first poem, What Infinity Can Never Bring, was also chosen by Dennis Morton for broadside publication and dissemination during National Poetry Month at our wonderful independent bookstore Bookshop Santa Cruz:
What Infinity Can Never Bring
I love the old men gathering at Beckman's Bakery,
the hobble in the step of one, the sad eyes of another---
the joy of company that brings them together over coffee,
bagels, regrets. Even now, their conversation still lingers
on children, grown, scattered: my daughter's an alcoholic,
says one, mine's unemployed says another. But then,
in the next breath they are on to other loves,
simple passions---as only the old can do,
eyes ablaze with finitude's fire.
Buddha Hanger
A rusted hanger abandoned,
melting into black asphalt under rain.
Beauty only the holy can see, and for a long moment
I do---the oxidizing metal turning orange as a sun
lighting the horizon, a last goodbye.
Having held a warm coat, someone's favorite shirt---
or perhaps anonymous in a warehouse,
bearing a dress identical to thousands nearby,
waiting to be loaded, to find a home.
What more could anyone desire---
to be of such practical use,
to bear the beauty of others,
and when forgotten, to lie in the rain
content, letting go.
Would You Recognize the Truth if You Saw It
A small boy with blue glasses
pokes his head round the corner of the black metal newspaper stand,
stares. I crack the smallest of smiles, enough to send him
giggling for cover---till he reappears inside the empty black cage,
pokes his head through, stares at me again. This time,
I look him full in the face, radiate what gave us birth
those eons ago, this ecstatic recognition of being,
the surprise of it all. Gazing back through oval lenses,
never blinking, he radiates back---as though it was still,
all of it, just beginning---that there was endless time
to love your life this much.
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