We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
Oscar Wilde
Allen Ginsberg performing his poem /song Father Death Blues- which is about the death of his father & what it meant to him in light of his Buddhist practice & in the end this was the piece by which he wanted to be remembered :
And so for those who are wondering - I will be posting a sampling of the various themes & styles of my verse to begin with :
views from the gutter
by Gordon Coombes
I
as you head for the parks
& other green spaces
in your city
or go to find a breeze
on a hillside
or on a beach
just a place to sit in the sand
watching rainbows of oil
slipping across the water
& the bubbling up of sewage
just a few feet off shore -
as you leave the city behind
too hot to sleep
too hot to think
heading into the farmlands
passing apple orchards
passing fields of wheat & corn
passing a thousand silos -
driving to your summer hideaway
a cottage on the ocean
or on a small quiet lake -
taking walks in the woods
canoeing across the silver lake
shimmering mercurial lake
the splashing of a fish or two jumping
snatching a bug or two out of the air
osprey diving to feed
breaking through the surface
watching painted turtles swimming
or down a gentle river
noting the black loons
noting the odd deer here or there
a family of deer grazing on the shore
coming face to face with a deer at night
as the moonlight spreads out
unrolling a gleaming carpet of light
as you wander from your campsite -
the air is so still
the heat is a weight
breathing is so hard
ah for a cool breeze -
& the city is so hazy
& your rent by the week room
is a dead weight on your soul
you fear you'll never escape
dreaming of an air-conditioned condo
even the office where you are imprisoned
eight hours a day is an escape
from the hot deadly air
just the dog days of summer
or life sentence without parole -
take care,
GORD.
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