Issue #10: There Are Green Pastures Ahead

April’s Breaking

Written by: Scott Allen
Published: January 21st, 2007

I smoke a fallen leaf and eat sunshine

I inhale river’s water

the frozen breaking is this pretty sound

delicate leaves shimmering in wind filled houses

do you know the sound of the falling tree shattering?

the crashing of icebergs coming undone?

the crystal cracking of my heart at your silence?

can you hear it?

are you there?

the left town

ground open

everything high

everywhere song scattering morning

silence crawling warm from the day

bricks listen to crickets

pavements sleep

grass touches the hanging east

forgetting the birds and insects

the light startles nothing

is reincarnation too heavy for the insect population?

creeping about the blue and green mudball–

bumbling murmurs, attracting

ingesting etchmarks into leaves and bark–

it all goes soil,

it all goes life–

this is incarnate,

this is earthy grown brown life,

liquid life,

winged life hanging in the sun

suspended in frozen air

with barking dogs beneath

just speaking

ROUGH—here I am

and ROUGH ROUGH—I am here too

is that fire?

–it’s probably just lights with trees and things between us

I feel it too much,

the dark shapes of hills on the horizon.

and what I thought was a blinking light was

a single bulb steadily shining through boxcars

what to write when you sit at the world’s end,

feet dangling over the sickly abyss?

I wanted to write poetry

strange when you don’t know yourself, when you change from one year to the next, one day to the next. I change with the people I’m with, with the time of day, with the weather;

much of my life has passed in a fantasy of rehearsal

I will whisper deeply

beard grown red from Oklahoma soil

we should go in together

twist it out of life

pull it from the air–

the beauty,

even sick I can smell it

drink it from bottles and jars and reservoirs

be orange and brown

be of the earth

sink into its recomposing structures

push my hands through the wet grass

elbow deep in soil and push my head through

climbing down until I find the heat in the hillside

the gravity’s center

the grass flicks about the cutting machine

zzzzipzipzipzipzipzipzip

everything pops slick with confetti

where are the thousands of colored kites pulling wildly,

ducking and weaving, occasionally dive-bombing? where

are all the smelly girls? where do they get their magical scents?

Should I take to wearing fragrant oils?

to what extent can I trick out the size of life?

how many movies watch, candles burn, sunsets take in?

how many hours beach?

facing Helios, reading,

the black letters turn red

drop into a pile, stand up and march away,

leaving the page yellow and blank

the sun is dripping slowly out of existence

almost no one can question this

the imprecise order of these words,

bouncing around, landing and sticking here and there

shaking a giant box full of millions of little colored worlds

billions of silly thoughts competing—or sometimes just lazing around,

up in the ether, refusing to play with us

“fuck off,” they say, one to another, quickly locating and ordering the letters

to compose the two little words above the clouds,

“fuck it, we don’t need them…”sniffing down at humanity,

the ellipses called from beyond the sky, summoned up from the freshman theses

words buzz like television signals, like white noise,

like refrigerators and sunbeams through livingroom-window fuzz

shocking all over everything

running from mustached crew-cut cops in clunky outfits, bulky vehicles,

styrofoam brains and beady little hearts

–do you know how fast you were going?

–too fast?

aching with words

shadow-boxing them into shape

ciphered and tunneled at an alarming rate

heavy breathing them into numbed acquiescence

sexing them into our world and abusing them into advertising and propaganda

senseless, coagulated, bludgeoned by speechwriters

tromboning easychairs, frayed heavy blankets and wornout train whistles

empty superheroes growing more and more absurd

cylindrical forces hurricaning human speech upwards

hurled out of control

spiraling at stupid firework angles

the small fear of opening a can of biscuits

of popping party balloons after the party is ended

of sudden telephone rings

each word is a hue

whirligigs and flying machines

violins and frisbees

xylophones and fireflies

we speak in perfect pitch

the palette enormous

gymnastics and hieroglyphics

and whatever those sounds are when you dampen the guitar

I’ve spent my nights listening to music

searching for your voice amongst theirs

we could find everything

we can make wishes out of colored paper

pink and red and green

folding shapes and flight

to be lifted of my pride

all mine

to sip and create and organize the heart’s call

subdivide the language divisions

release the ego and submit to Christ

to feel his delight

to fall in love with trees in bloom

to appreciate even the tenement housing

their colors red and orange and brown

against the rain sky

to be loosened and to rub my wrists where the ropes were tightest

joy tickles my arches,

my feet shine with it,

the power—

a cold tap running my body

the sexual ache of life with Christ,

sweet with death’s defeat

I wake up anywhere and need you

I eat music from the air

pull the vocals out of the song and join them with my spine

listen and stare into the floor and touch my lips with my fingertips

I hold heaven inside of me.

it’s so heavy

bless this concrete and dust!

bless the man on the roof! (paint roller in hand)

bless the birds that land about him!

bless in earnest this humanity,

steaming vegetables on the evening stove of childhood Houston where we’ve all lived a stretch,

full faced and beautiful,

city under rain

the blood and glory of the day

the stain upon the dish

the children who cannot look but see

the whole globe of existence is lighted in the sky today

it’s all right there

the clouds pouring forth speech

stupidly true

the language of creation

of beauty

of beauty

always everything of beauty forever

the WHOLE SKY is moving

everything filters and floats into dusk

all your past

ashes in the sky

memories of faces turned snowstorm

white swirling above streetlamps

here is a sweetheart

there a turnabout

here the love of Jesus Christ

here, there and everywhere

name your colors, dear

do you know what waterfalls look like?

serpents and television and spirit

driving and a girl crossing a bridge above me

curly brown hairs me into believing

summer evenings spent twilight driving

I can see through the moon

the empty space against the crescent

the atmosphere we take as space

darkness and stagelights

the spot from above the table daybright

patterns ebbing off my spine

stars strapped to our backs

polishing solid oak stairsteps

carrying a spoonful of moonlight

carefully spilling none

taking this gift to you

through the trees at night

the swirling branches of childhood

the smells of falling trees wet after rain and wind

like some giant Am tuner seeking out channels and missing is the thunder from the sky

the leaves flick down in showers

flashing candles tumbling

I want grandkids

how suburban, how wild

I want to go and weep in the creek

children stomping through the sunlit water

butterflies playing amongst tiny ripples and the rocky bank

a bird flies into my head, chirping

lying rapt in green I see frisbee’s red flash

across the clouded kingdom

I find it on every side

the bird shaking the branch

the bees turning on their wings

some foreign city where the music has puts you

one alphabet after another

in Manhattan, walking the puddled night

into your first apartment, smokes,

some room—a cave,

a headphoned universe,

let’s find the darkness

steal into it, oblivion:

the mood keeps coming up, whatever it is

take the music like medicine

glimpses of children, of grace

give away your kittens in the box or they will consume you

start the fountains, spring is here,

is here is spring

go smoke butterfly wings

this place is stardust and colored stones and

aspen trees and little white ghosts

this place is sudden smoke in the sky

suddenly gone.

these streets are silver pavement breaking eggs

giant eyes and sideways bending

there is a fire in every fireplace

and a fireman in every room

and it never gets smoky and it always rains

this is the end of wobbly chairs and spilling tables

ringed with coffee colors

here is everything lovely

angel breath and books of verse

teapots brewing flowering vines

tiny little princess in tye-dyed shirt and flowing curls

red and blonde and wonderfaced

you see it shines

radiates

a lovely lone spiraling dancer–

the universe inside her hair,

creation machine inside one ear, and in the other:

Armageddon

elaborate and sparkling in her only antiquated dress,

light upon her flashing feet,

platforms clicking on the warm wooden oiled stage

she breaks out the piano and plays it lovingly

lovingly I sit and listen

and below the basement carpenter

pulling wet cut wood milled fine, sawdusted in

shovelfuls, sweated in eyelash specks,

he heats the coils, slices corrections,

pulls the old box and stool through the floor,

inking her green stained eyes:

this is loving,

this is how it works

I was breathing the ecstasy of creation,

live music, thematic or chronological editing, collecting

this was me you people, this was my

life and lifeblood, these were the seasons and the building

blocks and the builders in their hardhats

remember to remember

the days and the shapes and the shades,

the kiss on the side of your head

feel every spark of life and every ember die and the dark–

how it felt on your face, looking into it and writing out

from it with coffee and cigarettes on your front stoop

my God you were sad and lovely–

and suddenly lazy,

music speaks through the screen door out into the summer eve

and the scent of growing things makes you shake

–a voice like a violin

–some scattered raindrops at sunset

–the bliss at turning older

everything filters through the halo of creation

forget remembering, life keeps moving

go in and be beautiful

we smelled deep atmospheric baklava dark in the sky and

wished we had our own to create and

so bought paints and chased our rich ethnicities

beneath smiling stars dripping sweetly

we fill alabaster jars with perfume

we toss small children into the air and catch them

see them at the tops of their arcs

fill the walls with flowers and clear the floors for dancing girls

their flutes blowing coolly

I will now front handspring across the mountains

goodbye




Copyright 2007 The Willow Tree People.