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BROKEN A COLLECTION OF POEMS BY MARK KALIN O B S I D I A N M M X X 4

CONTENTS Author s Statement 11 B R O K E N 15 G O I N G R O G U E 19 RESERVATION DOGS 22 P O E M S I M AG ES Copyright 2020 by Mark Kalin all ri ghts reserved SIMPLE 25 LATE SPRING IN THE OWENS VALLEY 27 ON THE BAYOU 30 M I L K Y W A Y 31 UNHOLY GRAIL 33 ALL TO HELL 36 AFTER THE RAIN 39 DAWN ON THE GREAT BASIN 42 WINTER HARDENED 46 OCEAN 47 LURKING 50 DARK THIRTY 56 BROKEN SABBATHS 57 SIBLING SNAPSHOT 63 HOIST SAILS 65 Acknowledgements 67 List of Images 68 Colophon 69

I AM A CRISIS WORKER and have worked in the helping profession for eighteen years People look to me for answers I don t claim to have answers What is important is their internal process The way out is through The answer is inside This is not easy work but I have found solace in words These poems deal with topics I ve been driven to write about Written through chaos and madness Written through endless deaths Written through crisis and trauma and dread I look to nature Get lost in her It s the place I go to temper the senseless tragedy of human life I see things I hear the gophers rumbling In this immense quiet things begin to make sense MARK KALIN 2020 9

I had to like open the bruise up and let some of the bruise blood come out to show them DA N I EL H A M M

BROKEN Broken I am broken Broken With the brokenness Of the broken And as I am broken There is nothing within me To unbreak That which is broke In the broken All is broken The system itself is broken The whole world is broken Everything is broken I am powerless over evil Muster all the strength I might Fight against the dying of the light And I fall short Yet fight remains within me So I fight on Fight I must It s all I have left Muster my best Perhaps as Maslow states If all you have is a hammer Everything looks like a nail 13

So I hammer on It is my gift who I am To battle is never in vain Powerlessness I can accept But not surrender No longer the pretender I preach as if to never preach again A dying man to dying men I am haunted by waters I stoop to read the words Written beneath the rocks By timeless raindrops What price human life Slim solace in suffering And so much death I have seen too much What I feared most met me halfway Yet I cannot abide The blood dimmed tide I return now as Sancho Panza Astride my humble donkey Dapple I came for wool and return shorn Like the broken back Of a swayback horse No good for show or tow Like Jacob Marley I lament I wear the chain I forged in life And as Janis wailed Freedom s when all is lost When nothing s left to lose Broken Like the breaking of bread Or wine poured out Unless a corn of wheat Falls to the ground and dies It abides but alone Until it dies But in the dying fruit is borne A sublime harvest I sallied forth as Alonso Quijano On my noble nag Rocinante Became Don Quixote de la Mancha The man of la Mancha a dry land This the dry voice of a hollow man An Idealist ill suited for battle Filled with fantasy 14 15

GOING ROGUE Yeats cried As innocence drowned That the best lack conviction And the worst are filled With passionate intensity Yet when I try to do the right thing You call it going rogue Conscience for conscience s sake In antipode e e cummings lamented To differ the disease of same A heart to fear To doubt a mind How can I not be broken With the brokenness Of the broken Words cannot be spoken They are just a token The good doctor weighed in On my peculiar unconventionality You trod the offbeat path To fail by conventional means Is more acceptable Than unconventional success Raise an eyebrow Stir the pot 16 17

Raise the ire Of what we re not Of the once fervent And now fading light Bonhoeffer admonished Silence in the face of evil Is itself evil Not to speak to speak Not to act to act Not as Milton Do I attempt to justify The ways of God to men Nor to God the ways of men Desperate times Demand desperate means The city will fall Save for the watchman on the wall More as Charles Wesley Who spake presciently A charge to keep have I Lest I forever die Blake had his say Back in the day And like Blake My pen can t sleep Among these dark Satanic Mills Draw attention to yourself You make an easy target Caught in the devil s bargain To act or not to act Is the question For every action An equal opposite reaction Force equals force Why a fool hung on the cross Dylan Thomas weighs in Rage rage against the dying 18 19

R E S E R VA T I O N D O G S As I lie in my bed dogs are in my head Dogs are in my head dogs are in my head Reservation Dogs Not our ancient ancestor Pia isa Wolf god monster slayer Who made man from beast And transformed this land for habitation Not Kwahn the silver fox From the dawn of time Who taught us how to live in harmony More like Ja mul coyote trickster Who schooled us in the arts But succumbed to lust Reservation Dogs ravenous and confined At first light I ride my bike among them Dodging teeth careful for my feet Rolling with all my might to slight advantage Stamina outpacing onslaught At times I spy their approach At others they encroach out of darkness Scintillating specters spawning primeval fear Dogs are in my head dogs are in my head Dogs are in my head as I lie in my bed Reservation Dogs running wild at eventide Unleashed untamed in all their gory glory roaming free Noses to ground ears pricked high Foraging carousing Bristled backs braced for attack 20 Awakened in the black of night Their fangs far from sight A howling growling snarling chorus Bays in the distance Each calls to each in midnight sentinels A seething cacophony that won t quiet This covert tribe masked in the pale dawn light Hounds my waking thoughts Five or six chase at every chance I change my route only to rouse others Emboldened in packs they shrill and attack No defense against Reservation Dogs Roaming far and wide I cannot hide They ve picked up my scent and won t relent Dogged and full of dread They re in my head in my head in my head Herders nipping at my heels Big bounding dogs in thunderous roar Gallop to outrace me Keen to spy their eyes To assess and outflank their attack I fly In an explosive rush of canine ferocity Howling loudly I strain to push past the frenzied footfall No mule when carrot stick eludes Outmatched they turn aside Time it took to abide my fear of Reservation Dogs Though my blood still runs cold At their sight in knee jerk fight or flight Perhaps to embrace some ancient purpose they pursue Or chase thrill preferred to porch lounge Reservation Dogs run wild run free 21

Dogs doing what dogs are meant to be A game for me at first to outman My response to primal fear but they soon tire Then others once bystanders Now join in this hive mind fray and feeding frenzy No winning against Reservation Dogs Wired to some ancient purpose A land dispute perhaps It is I who am guilty of trespass But I would not be denied Ride would I among Reservation Dogs Like my life depended on it Never pedaled so fast Though this too could not last Deferred to dogs did I Now intimate with their rovings I choose a wiser route Survival instinct perhaps yet once my fear assuaged I found my way back to why I ride in the first place It is Pia isa I pursue Yes it s Kwahn I seek Dogs have left my head left my head left my head And as sure as the sun shall rise I ride 22 SIMPLE Simple is a place where I ve never been Far from confusion and despair High above the din Where things are not as they appear But essentially as they seem Simple is any song sung at dawn By every bird who greets the sun Seven single notes The basis of all symphonies The melody of sympathy Here in basic form Simple is the red of a rose in bloom The yellow of aspens after first frost The blue of the night sky at full moon Or a beetle s back or a butterfly wing Primary colors paint our world Simple are the things of which dogs dream An old alley cat a bone a wide shade tree Things effortless pleasant trouble free Simple doesn t complicate things It accepts what is And simply lets it be 23

L AT E S P R I N G I N T H E O W E N S VA L L E Y Late Spring and everything a vibrant green The hush of Winter at eventide has passed When gopher rumblings are all you hear Crowded now as frogs croak in undulating chorus Cool morning crickets chirp in lazy cadence At cockcrow bird choir rises Like an orchestra tuning up And culminates to full crescendo at daybreak Soon birds dart about and day in day out Flit twit skip dip hop drop staccato like Start stop hop bop beaks shop feet prop Noggin cocks to swallow all to a calypso beat Great murders of crows migrate en masse In a rush of plumage to secret feasting spots Hawks perch high and spy for scant prey Silent sentinels boding Summer s arrival Mallards pair up to mate Waddle as they walk Plop in the drink with a loud plash Paddle with a rippling trace Blue heron eyes But does not start at my approach Proud and pterodactyl like Knee deep in the drink patient 24 25

Wildlife emerges Wary of birds of prey return Jackrabbits not yet at full tempo Underground dwellers arise Fish lie deep and motionless Ravenous awaiting bug banquet The lone angler awaits To catch his fat limit Sunrays dapple softly Copious colors vibrant unbleached The first vernal flush has passed In short time this too will wither and dry Hyperion s reign brief Spring bloom short lived The splendor in the grass too soon fades Coyote lopes off in the distance Lanky gray and ghost like Not as bold in broad daylight As in midnight pack chorale yelping The great snowmelt has begun Frosting high on crusted faces edges upward Cascading thaw courses down bountifully Creeks rise clear and cold stout and glistening A dampening in the air With dust devils dormant Dewy earth exhales As wildflowers burst forth in full bloom profuse A touch of color on the Inyos Adding opulent contrast to rough rocky edges Chaparral in full bloom muted colors Dusted in plush hues The sun not yet at apex Waking wind wafts lazily 26 27

O N T H E B AYO U M I L K Y W AY Hog leg Frog leg Chicken bone Ham bone White as rice Crazy as a loon Drinkin white lighting Howlin at the moon Something about staring out At the stars late at night At high altitude where the air is clear In the lonesome silence In the still before dawn Stirs a secret quiet deep within me Fox in the henhouse Gumbo in the pot Get dem oysters While they re hot Half past dark thirty Catfish stew Cooking with gas On the Bayou Wouldn t know it without the stars A window to my soul Deepened as deep mirrors deep Backside the looking glass What s outside reflects what s within The burbling chatter of the brook Awakes to consciousness Ripples in resonance In this immense silence Which envelops me The musty scent of earth Rises in my nostrils Fills my cavity with cool air And my mind clears The lofty haze of the Milky Way Shimmers effervescently Awakening celestial longings As the part merges with the whole Transforms the here and now And I am no longer alone The void s twinkling eye 28 29

Meets my gaze And this moment is set ablaze A transformative interlude Pellucid soliloquy Illuminates internal landscape In the dead of night In the midst of majestic conifers Yearning for the sun Their arms arched upward In sacred prayer A picturesque solitude Of solace void of malice From the drudgery of day in day out Struggling to secure means In this dog eat dog world Dog taste lingering on my lips To what Wordsworth called Our spots of time Alone with my thoughts Rising from my core Conjuring words Yes no more alone Than the forest for the trees Narcissus gazes deeper into the pool Beyond the shadowy surface semblance Into this protean world A herald of what s true Beckoned by thoughts eternal Shadows dancing in Plato s cave 30 U N H O LY G R A I L History was made on bad information The New World explored in search of El Dorado The fabled city of gold But they never unearthed it Crossed a continent Endured great hardships In search of something that wasn t there Columbus believed he could sail to China In seven weeks what they knew impossible The queen backed him anyway He set off on a hopeless quest And history was made How many have looked On the seeming impossibility of their plight And simply given up Following a mirage in the desert May not lead you to water But it will take you beyond where you ve been Following an illusion is no different Than following what s real And who is to say what is real I may not become what I think I will be But I will never again be what I am Tempt fate and await That simple twist of fate Often the only thing that takes you there is a grail A phantom an apparition a dream 31

What is real is what happens along the way Carrot mule preferred to bit jaw pony At the advent of the journey this is essential If I wait until the conditions are right Or doubt my own heart I won t attempt change I ll end up stuck in the waiting room And never cross the threshold to self discovery Most never try and slip back from the brink To the drink or to think and not launch The ship passes in the dead of night in silence It s the law of inertia A body at rest remains at rest A body in motion stays in motion Unless acted on by an outside force Whatever works is that force Inspiration is easy High wild thinking is the province of intoxicants Great thoughts waft through that airy expanse Of altered states like so many stars at night Hitching onto that star and following through On inspiration presents a crisis of will If inspiration does not become aspiration Unless followed by perspiration Ends in deflation The wind having gone from the sails A groggy recollection of flights of fantasy All that remains One pale window removed Through shimmering walls of glass Experiencing the relief of never having left If I wait till the time is right I ll never take that first step If I m willing to do something Even if it s wrong I won t err long Following through on the vision I become the dream Questing the grail Medievals believed They d find the Cup of Christ Drink from that golden goblet And their troubles would be over Forever live and live forever With God on their side They set out for the Promised Land Only to be beaten back by Arabs Forever changed in the process Many knights and nobles set out never to return They became the stuff of legend They left in search of a tin cup Something with no inherent power Chivalry was born And it changed the face of Europe Too easy to return to the fishbowl And stare at the glimmering world 32 33

That great golden ursus now but a memory And the Tongva relocated and deceased ALL TO HELL Burning all to hell It s burning all to hell All to hell Yet again Last year s record wildfire Surpassed this year s Wait both in the same year And now we burn again Like matchsticks Like a house of cards Odds better in Vegas Not if now just when This great conflagration trumps What we ve made of scarcity Vanity s holocaust chasing its tail Build bigger dams to cure dry land The fire is a cleansing of unsustainability Yet we will build again Increase Increase Increase Denial fierce as fire Not like there s no place left to go Megacities like the beach within reach The ocean sodden with bituminous slime Mother Nature s esprit de l escalier Ancestral Tongvans control burned LA Basin To keep the bear at bay 34 A grizzly reminder In our collective unconsciousness How we ve encroached on pristine spaces Trod hard on sacred ground It will all come tumbling down Chehooit rises in wrath to exact vengeance Will take her millennia to reclaim the land Geologic time erases hubris The bear may never return But some species will thrive Men will not be among them Betrayal to the core Stewardship sacrilege Man fancies he s smarter than apes Rapacious greed unheeded his undoing And what of the living And those who have burned Like Goebbels duped motherland commoners Der Fuehrer s unwitting marionettes Blasphemy you cry Anathema you say Remember Ford fathered eugenics Forged trucks for Hitler s Germany War built California s boom And though Eisenhower decried The Military Industrial Complex His freeways paved the way 35

We dreamed the impossible dream Bought the farm Paid flesh in spades Plus blood tears and time Not to mention verdant Earth Our time indeed is short The hourglass the only trickle down we ll know Unquenchable fire our inevitable pyre Weep weep weep AFTER THE RAIN The long pain of winter past When the panoply of deer Migrate to higher ground And hoofprints abound The air crisp cool in the early watches Detritus wet scat humus commingle The bowels of earth outgas Mushrooms burst forth in profusion The dust dampened down Plants breathe easier Not a whiff of exhaust in the breeze Saturated with floral hints Tree buds plump rotund Deadfall at tree feet Break down build up As these sentinels exhale oxygen rich Carpets of flowers swell Spring forth kaleidoscopic in color Rich hues golden orange stark white plum Underneath a verdant green The scent of coyote brush thick With chaparral sage lavender fennel yarrow Which glow luminescent at first light Fresh wet wash resuscitates all that grows 36 37

The teeming ground dank Mineral rich the soil metallic smells discharge An irony coppery ozone oozes Mixed with salty aromas Bird in song dart about as a million critters Their eggs awakened burst forth cloud like Everywhere above below In a frenzy of activity They scurry scamper ramble tumble or crawl The light as if refracted Shelters from the implacable sun Not a haze a richness really Colors leap in blazes and mutes Yes the pain of Winter s blast past As the earth opens her ample breast Signaling hope and bright season As scent song sight light congeal 38 39

DAW N O N T H E G R E AT BA S I N Dawn breaks slowly In the early watches winter nights On the outer rim the eastern reaches Of the Great Basin I step outside to survey The vast arena of sky As dawn breaks before my eyes The play of light On Muir s Range of Light Upon the ridge rich rays ruminate Overtop the grand White Mountains Peeking out in the east in visual feast To the west the first fierce rays Hit high on Eastern Sierra slopes In soft and luminous glow Light edges downward awakening their faces Sunrays reach high then descend Down into the lowlands Pine thicket soon visible Fanning out beneath the tree line In the emerging dawn Lesser peaks stand out In ghostly silhouette With broad shoulders Upon which the heavns rest A symphony of sight unfurls A dappled pallet dabbled across the wild blue yonder 40 A chorus of colors coalesce in clouds overhead Auburn flaxen crimson and sienna In the soft glow of early light Stars begin to fade The Day Star last emissary of the night Still shines bright in the twilight sky A lone specter now In the once overcrowded firmament The moon a ghostly sliver The once verdant grove Autumn turned gold Barren now with the killing frost Leaf fall at tree feet blown into every nook A lone crow perched high springs noisily Lofts off treetop hovers motionlessly Then drifts silently on the waking wind A cacophony of roosters crow Out of sync out of tune out of time Signaling the rallying dawn The incessant baying of dogs Abates one by one sporadically Somewhere the lone braying Of a mule subsides Deer start and spring Race zigzag in a galloping hop And bounding high Disappear into the distance 41

Quiet creeps in with the stinging cold As it rolls downslope easing low With the raising of the sun And the rising of the wind With the cool The arid air dampens Chilling to bone Frost crusts every surface Rabbits emerge Hop stop and start Start and stop as they scurry about Then dodge beneath the brush Chaparral in earth toned pallor Ochre gray russet and sage On days when western peaks are shrouded Encased in cloud cover which bodes snowfall A miraculous transformation occurs Gophers pile high their mounds Shoring up against the cold So deathly quiet Faint rumblings arise from underneath Feeding fish flop on water top In a cold blooded lazy roll Waking ripples as their bold backs Break surface in the stream Shorn sheep without a bleat In quiet concentration Grubbing on the ground Mowing for every morsel Horses stand motionless Save for their eyes Silent at the fence line Puffing steam 42 When the pall lifts Winuba emerges Adorned in white pure as driven snow In morning light Oh what a sight to ancient eyes This bounty must have been Where Winter s work Brings Spring snowmelt And sluicing sustenance Surely the Great Spirit Is at work here As it must have appeared To the venerable ones long forgot Their spirit still lives on In this pastoral countryside To see with eyes untrammeled I rise 43

WINTER HARDENED OC E A N Oh how Winter hardens numb loam While underneath the crocus corm Awaits the first soft kiss of Spring Awakening dormant core To put down root for an inviolable thrust Indulging in dark dampness Before assaulting dead turf Ocean ain t mountains But mountains don t move Ocean always moving Even in the Horse Latitudes It never stops rolling rhythmically Like clockwork tide in tide out Year end s withered bloom Forms a muted tunic Pale shell houses new life Once shed emerges from dormancy Finding strong soft supple fingers To push against adamantine crust What s most important to me Is this picture of eternity For eternity lies within And deep mirrors deep In this dog eat dog rat race It s where I find grace Frigid cage shelters burgeoning foliage Roused from slumber Seeking higher light Latency houses dark inertia To assail cold domain The play of light across the ocean Celestial reflection dancing on its face Penetrating deep into its depths At times a dour gray at others a vibrant green Never the same color any given day Endless luminescence in the light you see That first moist peck of thaw Thwarts a shriveling bulb blast Roots foot with awakened grasp First stem then foliage then flower Seasonal cycle consummates To commence yet again Light too plays on the mountains Highlighting craggy disparity Day to night interplay in light shadow Especially when overcast And domed sky in low lying cloud cover Enhances terrestrial light The pageantry of sun and moon Slow waltzing across the firmament Brings contrast in bold and bas relief 44 45

With a constantly changing palate Time and the circle both eternal Light the one constant in a sea of change The twinkling multiplicity of stars From blue dwarf to orange giant Spectral pirouettes illuminate night sky And highlight the seasons Milky Way s cloudy depths Borderline the great abyss Whether solid like mountain Or fluid like ocean Or ephemeral like the vast waste of space Or frail like the mind s reach to quantify infinity It s something bigger than me Perspective I find in these Einstein conceived General Relativity Ambling across Vienna Square Was something in the air What he saw in a flash Took ten years to do the math How does one sum space time continuum Columbus regarded that far rim In search of fair land Trade essentially His bounty bankrupted Europe s economy I look further into the unknown For a solace as irrepressible as truth It s what drove me out West West once was ocean floor now dry as a bone Remnants remain thrust high into sky Vast vistas in soft contours carved of sandstone A picture of an incalculably ferocious force The cataclysmic handprint of God As awe inspiring in action as in aftermath How the visible calls to the invisible What s finite reveals what s infinite Gives thought to higher purpose Something beyond what s known Shadows dancing in Plato s cave Unchained as I rise no longer a slave I lived in Chicago long ago As cold a city as a city can be I d go down to the lakefront Turn my back on the city and let it fade To the sound of waves the power in that Where I first noticed the horizon 46 47

LURKING Or other telltale signs of the passing of time It s just not as I recall Lurking among the old haunts Of a faded past camping with my son Recollecting things that have been With him yet lost in my thoughts Memory is a funny thing You think you can just go back And frolic in that field of dreams But somehow it escapes you Can t just recoup what s heretofore It s like looking for lost keys Can t will up recall randomly Not how the mind works Unlike muscle memory Retrospection is context dependent A sight sound surround or smell The wormhole we travel to retrieve the past I am at the mercy of my mind Frail as it is and that wild card circumstance I just can t turn back the hands of time Cruel as it is memory is never wholly at will There is a strangeness to it all too Prancing down that primrose path An otherworldly quality to it To old stomping grounds revisited Same eyes now dimmed Same mind less keen It s what s transpired betwixt between Just don t see things the same as before That real but not real sense That there but not there feeling Did it really happen as I recall Or has memory altered what has been A stranger in a strange land I am In my own mind What s known now seems unfamiliar Deja vu with a twist The past colored by what s happened since In the dark recesses of my mind Like trying to untangle twisted fishing line Or assemble a puzzle with missing pieces Hauntingly habitual Yet maddeningly beyond grasp The past is indecipherable to me Just beyond my reach That feeling you get when you see a face But can t remember the name Know the words to the song not who sang it Tip of the tongue yet out of touch Not just that the trees have grown taller Or creeks have changed their course 48 49

In the deep black of night I quiet myself completely to hear Hush even my breath Sensing this vast silence the quiet soothes Sensing now the river of time The ebb and flow of this eternal tide Which rolls on and on and never stops Then turns back the pages of time Softly in the distance the vague flutter of a bird Closer at hand the distinct footfall of deer Or perhaps a puma prowling in the dark Or a lark Habitu of a fertile mind Seeing that pot again as for the first time Same pot as I now pour a hot cup At this moment it s like a relic A portal to the past down the rabbit hole I go Transported now by memory Of affiliated people places and things In a lofting stream of consciousness I take flight My mind drifts imagination lifts Recalling it was a gift in exchange for one gifted The gifter gifting the same back It had become part of our morning routine Original left as a gift when I moved out A hiatus shift which tilts off center Into that vast internal world Not bound by space or time Thoughts scatter like wind blown sand Of coffee chats that ran into second pots I can see him now dialing back the burner To stop it boiling over He says as much Then I am pulled back down by space time What s here and now By the senses sight sound touch scent My mind s eye comes into focus The ritual for him now down That friend so long gone The pot all that remains Along with this reflection clear in my cranium Thoughts are broken by a peculiar poppity pop And familiar aroma Of that old percolator pot As it dances and sings on the camp stove Routine is an unthinking thing Rote that glues our days together In the lockstep of time marching on I get lost in the shuffle Awakened as I draw breath How I repaired it once and the fix held For eons it seems the pot dormant so long Too long a time Stirring the embers of the campfire Placing another log to make it burn brighter Fanning flames Stokes memories in blaze and brain 50 51

I am warmed and brightened by time long gone And stave off the encroaching dark And the inevitability of death The forward watch of the brevity of days I poke the coals Old age I tell my son is a time of returning And I am old now My son a man now himself agrees I don t look old don t feel old But I have outlived trees And from his point of view it s also true Yet memory somehow makes each day new Time for him something to be managed To make the most of the passing days Getting things done More to do to be do be do be do No time for reflection action urgent For at his back he can now hear Time s winged chariot hurrying near A sound never silent as the hours howl As the coffee pot is for me An oasis in the transience of time Perhaps I was never fully present in the moment As I am not now Time did not find its way deep enough down Into this flawed abacus bent awry So much just washed down the river of time Never to be retrieved again Spend your whole life sitting on the bank Pole in hand and skunked again Me to my son did we bring bait It s alright Dad he says Just good being here now with you Look I caught a grasshopper use that Yes the mind like time is a fragile thing And colors all that is What is essential is we are here now Shall we hike instead He smiles and shakes his head I remind him when as a boy he said two weeks Two weeks is a long time Daddy You have many days and I only a few The amount is different for me and for you Like the wind as it lifts and scatters the ashes One day this too will be a memory for you I say 52 53

DARK THIR T Y B RO K E N SA B BAT H S Black before daybreak Dead still even the hushed approach of deer Sun s orb crests the arch of muted globe Shards of light dispel night Wafting a whiff of wind Luminous mist of dew drifts Drenching to dark hues Frail trill of birdsong Awakens in arietta Crescendos to choir Coyote steals away Yelping in protest We never made it back to Frog Creek In our short time under the sun Though hip high you were coy beyond years You showed me the frogs there Hiding in the watercress Tree frogs whose call you heard My mind so full of the fury of the freeway Whose overpass arched overhead In the fading light of day s end We found the stream sanctuary still running clear Before it bogged brackish at the beach When I recall those days birdsong seeps in You posited frogs were hiding from the birds In the plush morass Frogs whose call hushed at our approach Camouflaged perfectly above the drink Where they plopped as we reached to catch them We returned with jars Only to find they were savored more By your pet fire bellied toad Our time like theirs was short I was preoccupied with some pressing matter Or the work that never stayed at the office That moment slipped by me In the pressing thoughts now forgotten Like the frog that leaped back into the creek 54 55

Your agile mind has since moved on to other things Your own encroaching overpass perhaps The world now at your fingertips No longer in search of amphibians It was you I sought there my own innocence lost Distracted then and the moment gone In vain I reach back to grasp Like the frog slipping through my fingers It was a time of wonder We found each other there A curious boy and his inattentive father An oasis in time s desolation which marches on Wordsworth s spots of time Memory s retake and loss regained A fresh bud or world opened in me As it unfurled in you in the emergent watercress Your curiosity was luminescent I basked in its radiance The urgency of an awakened child To prove himself to the world To his father close yet detached Distant but within reach We were off in search of wonder Found around any corner Stolen Sabbaths we set off We were supposed to be in church Yet those secret sanctuaries Were somehow more majestic and sublime 56 57

It was you I discovered there my partner in crime You opened your world to me and mine to me Here you said here Just beneath the leaves Where the fading light pierced the thicket Hiding in the weeds The frogs hushed their chatter My hollow heart yet echoes their croak How could I not have noticed them An emblem of my inattention They climb the weeds Daddy They are just beneath the leaves Hiding from birds Just then I discerned birdsong As it rose above the croaking din Twilight awakened haven Tree frogs Daddy I saw them in a book Look here I got one I got him Your hands were so small They held secrets in stillness Memories I have held on to in hope Of our eventual return So many precious things I have pondered and kept Bucketfulls found beachcombing Talismans against the passing of time I recapture that moment fondling them 58 My genie against the curse of loss I wipe off the accumulated dust Gingerly hold their graying frailty Save them from crumbling at my fingertips Strain to recall the time and the instance Memories worn and softened Like the sea glass we relentlessly sought Anchors against the surging tide of time My memory clears like a receding wave And I am left with longing Innocence awakened in your presence Encased in a shadowbox of days long past No we never made it back to frog creek And we have since grown apart Far flung from stolen moments An occasional text unspoken regrets In the end the freeway won Its encroachment now complete Its expansion rerouted Frog Creek The watercress now gone And so too the frog song An occasional bird flutters by As we slowly die Yet in the Gestalt of memory Wish fulfillment pervades Unlike these frailing fondlings That crumble at my fingertips I put this cat s cradle here now into words To pass it back to you my son Shall we return again old friend 59

SIBLING SNAPSHOT High as you can walk And how Bob loved to walk Cresting Muir Pass Bob held his peace An immense space Lost in thought Perhaps as Nietzsche said No good thought comes but by walking Mirroring Muir how the power of imagination Makes us infinite Infinite as Bob s love of music He walked unslackened in pace Bob wasn t much good At keeping to the beaten path When he led he d lose the trail Lost in thought again Much to my consternation But he was a great saddle partner Like no other Oh the adventures we had His flights of fancy remarkable My spirit guide into the realms of music Like as a child when he unwrapped Bridge Over Troubled Waters And played The Boxer over and over Over and over again Excess is best eyes closed music seeping in 60 61

Later would I muse how he became that bridge For all he had the privilege to serve I wept when I played the haunting Part I Of the Koln Concert for my son In remembrance of Bob That piece my solace through many dark days I had only the one disc in college A gift from Bob who wore out the other side Avatar of Beefheart moth to flame Juggernaut into that great beyond Bob echoed Miles s remarks on Keith Bewildered how Jarrett could play out of nothing Jarrett sparked that music speaks the language Of fire itself HOIST SAILS When you first hoist sail to wind You little know at what port you ll end In that now frenzied farewell You cannot fathom a future Fully rooted in the past Only in retrospect will you comprehend Just how far you have now come And where now you must go Conflicted over his own father Bob came closest to Dad s dream Rosemary s constant comfort He d find and hug her as she cried Desolate in the basement unheard Overwhelmed rearing eleven alone often In support of her husband s fight To make the world right Of few it can be said that life itself Has dimmed with their passing Of Bob this is true Reminds me of Dad s haiku A drop in a pool Spreads throughout touching all parts Love too radiates 62 63

AC KNOWLEDGMENTS When I was a kid I had a lot of questions My big brother Bob was always good at explaining things to me in a way that made sense His untimely death was inexplicable but he died doing what he loved That made sense My mom was the artist in the family She always created something beautiful whether in the kitchen where her breads and candies were legendary in the garden where bare earth blossomed or in her own artistic pursuits painting or crafts She saw the world with poetic sensibility I learned to see the world through her eyes Bare trees in winter became Shakespeare s Bare ruin d choirs I have also learned so much from those I have had the privilege to serve They have been the rocks I rolled against in the riverbed of life that rounded my rough edges Some of the most profound lessons came from their own untimely journey to that further shore I ran my poetry by many who gave me encouragement and honest criticism Randy for one He helped me get in touch with my own process and see when my ideas were yet half baked That sent me back to my own internal kitchen And I continue I would be remiss if I didn t mention Doris Rothlisberger who went too soon into that good night When she read Marvell s To His Coy Mistress the first day of poetry class the words leapt off the page sparkled and danced Never knew words could be so pretty One last person to whom I owe a great debt is my friend Ilene whose own unflinching artistic sense lynxeyed perspective personal courage and support made this book possible 65 Thank you all

COLOPHON IMAGES TYPESET IN FUTURA Volcanic Tableland Petroglyphs Chalfant CA I N T E R I O R P R I N T E D O N AV O N C L A S S I C C R E S T EN D PAPERS Foxtail Pine Cottonwood Lakes Trail FRO NTISPI ECE Ancient Bristlecone Pine White Mountains 18 Western Juniper Golden Trout Wilderness 26 Owens River Elm Bishop CA 41 COVER PRINTED LETTERPRESS O N G M U N D S L AT E G R E Y A L L M AT E R I A L S A R E A R C H I VA L Q U A L I T Y DESIGNED BY JOHN BALKWILL I N C O L L A B O R AT I O N W I T H I L E N E S E G A L O V E P R O D U C E D AT B O O N E G R A P H I C S LETTERPRESS STUDIO GRAPHIC EYE BY NICO KALIN PHOTOGRAPHS BY MARK KALIN Foxtail Pine Cottonwood Lakes Trail 58 Ancient Bristlecone Pine White Mountains 62 PR OD U C ED IN AN EDITION LIMITED TO 100 COPIES T HIS IS COPY NO ________________________________________ MARK KALIN

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