Coming 'round again, Part 5

17.

Had to slow a bit to allow 

this poetry 

of older age to catch up.

each idea pushed out 

set out into the weightlessness 

of the revolving-- free

out there looking back.

Aurora blaze in the nick.

the inner reaches of outer space 

seemed it,

evilly compounded,

same bare place.

in the capscan machine the 

underwater sonar, blip blip

my life, my mind,my body, 

my aching back.

Jack wanted to bring up the 

rear guard 

and pin it onto the resultant, One! 

connecting to a whole

Donkey-- idea 

fading in whimsy

a shape, a stripe, a flower 

--revolving

clouds, leaves, waves.

swoosh 

the leaves, 

the figures onward 

to the vase 


18.

an ideal in the stars 
of Pollock drip,
hatch, hatch of Vincent and over 
hatch of Jasper,
the diamonded reality

I was ready
to go
Jack was all packed up
ready
going through it all again 

to make sure
Jack arrived in a black sky
yellow leaves,
in the headlights
1/2 moon,

waking to the first cars,
coffee, and the routines beginning.
reading, and doing yoga for his back.
He was going to paint right away.
He was nudging it forward 

to a change.
to its new existence, changing
to a forward turn
needing to crack, break or
blow into and through 

an inner knowing
some pathos he thought
that we would care.
some aesthetic dignity,
difficulty of mind.

19.
a yielded wisdom,
in that moment whistling dryly
scratch scratch in the moment.
he remembered the 
made up phrase, “Achilles 

of the wind fed brush”
so he left us without 
that old dusty God of our fathers
but a NeW reality of GeniuS.
sparkled 

in a New World,
set off, in the stars
to give rise
Heave HO!
Revolving black and white

Reduce and Radicalize
He was making those 
Subway drawings,
A new word for God was painted
on his lips

from now OnwarD!
New Reality! HO! HO!
revolving around,
back in the library, Jack 
was making the plan.

He hurried
that mad woman gobbling 
up everything.
the painting tumbled around in the 
stars upside

20.
down
this version doubled in the stars
a dick face and a fuck you 
had won the day.
Jack was on his own 

in the desert
this hero in the library was 
an old man’s game
but then my hero
the garbage man 

of the world
upside down world of mysterious 
rustling
leaves, that passage.
Jack had thought of it all 

many times over, and around 
and it changed slightly.
he remembered the blue hills,
it was different than 
he thought it would be

it was late
the yellowing sky, scattering 
slate of cloud
snow whipping at the very height
jangling diamonded light 

and credence of snowman, joined--
and blank returning.
jumble and skip
the same bare place
Stars behind,