31 - The Death of Yet Another August

August, your 31 flavors are up. It
is time for something completely different,
a
long weekend, perhaps, where we work but celebrate Labor. A
month of running off @ the pen, a month
filled
w/ morning stars, dream phrases left on your lips under four
planets regular in clear dawn sky.
Breakthroughs painful as the effort to terminate the colonel's command
& a reminder of the infallible means of dismissing critical mind for
breakdowns of the mental rigamarole &
a liberation of full metaphoric activity. (A
hungry imagination seeks freedom to release archetypal imagery.) The
garden bounty perpetuates the staving off of madness
w/ kale, collards, the last of the snap peas & ubiquitous
pumpkin
vines which snake north & south, become slug jungles
seeking
conquest of
the last bit of open space on that half the garden. August is
emergence of the new Globe mural (Vehoe WILL fence you in)
of course August is bike rides & California rolls it's
the ghost of summer sunlight reflecting off the morning Stuck it's
shadow illuminated by the rays of one perpetual star
& staking one's future to the natural order, the blue-sky bird-chirp, the
new routine emerged from the teeth of a bloody 3:15, new
versions
of ballads that we thot
Coltrane perfected & then heard
sung
by
Karrin
Allyon & ghost-vocaled Naima put the whole quivering planet to rest.

8.31.01