Don
Kingfisher Campbell
Sky
Show
THE RECTANGULAR
SKY
walking out the front door I look up
at the sky framed by our college letter
"O" shaped building and feel like I live
in a manmade museum for appreciation of
nature I have developed a reverence for
the view above each day a different
painting by Force the best days when
puffy mashed potato cotton ball clouds
float in a flat blue sea of air and
the most awakening nights the moon is
brilliantly suspended with little venus
playmate teasing the corners of the sky
disappearing to remind me whimsy dwells
in afternoons where an occasional plane
putters from one side of the frame to
the other a helicopter whirls birds
silently flap and I walk below with
my daughter my wife my moon my venus
on the earth below the sight of this
a guy looking at relative positions as
we breathe out apartment double doors
I wonder why cars fly so fast down
the street and ask are they as lucky as
me to stop notice we construct imitate
the constant constellation over all
KERRY OH KEY
There’s a president who’s sure
All that glitters is black gold
And he’s buying a
Stairway to oil land
In and around the oil lake
Fighter planes come out of the sky, and they bomb
there
One mile over they’ll be there, and they’ll bomb you
Ten long years they’ll be there and laughing too
Twenty-four seconds before the bomb you’ll see it’ll
be there with you
All along the oil towers, sultans kept the view
While all the women hid and went, barefoot servants,
too
Outside in the distance a freedom fighter did growl,
Two suicide bombers were approaching, the wind began
to howl
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our country become a funeral pyre
Come on Bushie, bomb my field
Come on Bushie, bomb my field
Try to set the desert on fire, yeah
And in our hour of darkness
Bush is standing right in front of us
Speaking words without wisdom, let it bleed
Let it bleed, let it bleed
Politicking words without wisdom, let it bleed
Take a look at my country
It’s the only one I got
Not much of a country
Never seem to get peace a lot
How I wish, how I wish Bush weren’t here
We're just 300 million lost souls swimming in a
media bowl, year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found, the same old fears
Wish Gore were here
I'll tip my hat to the tossed constitution
Take a bow for the faux revolution
Smile and grin at the lack of change all around
Pick up my pen and write
Just like yesterday night
Then I'll get on my knees and recite
Please don't get fooled again
No, no!
RED SKY MOON (NOODLES AND ICE CREAM)
1
if you're going to eat in Alhambra
you better be ready to have red sky moon
noodles and ice cream, preferably vanilla
2
the half-moon in the sky
is a perfect half golf ball
too full to be just a smile
3
tip it over & the yolk has already fallen out
cup the half sphere in your hand
drink in black night with tiny white stars
4
noodles and ice cream
the ideal meal to have
egg floating on vanilla dreams
5
wake up and look to the sky
a bright yellow yolk blares
time to live another poem
6
when the sky turns red
the orange lights come on
enjoy the chemical sunset
7
fade to blue turning black
the moon will be waiting
eye slowly blinking months away
8
in the morning brilliance
hunger is another sign
the world inside still turns
9
but the bastards with power
might bring on the red sky
that ends all stories
SKY SHOW
before the sun's up
it's a turtleback
then a spread winged eagle
chasing a fleeing mouse
towards an immense dark monolith
looming over the earth
now el sol peeks out
stripes red bands onto blue clouds
in an expanse turned baby
a white jet streak pierces through
SKY SEX
cloud blanket hovers over surface
spills wetness onto fertile field
raises life from inside grown body
of earth to develop green shoots
fins feet wings hands eyes mouths
organs to appreciate repetition of
acts replicated daily by beings
serving the ritual of recreation
and return of water to land to air
CRAYON IN THE SKY
bluer than the blue
like a chunk of wood
tossed high
leaving an imaginary tail
that disappears
like a dragon
returning to Earth
lying there
spent bone
FROM THE SKY
orange sun with
yellow corona rises
above curved line
quill horizon in
grass green feather
on morning sidewalk
I Float in the
Alternate Sky
The one that is wet
And smells like grass surrounds
All limbs stretched
A la Leonardo da Vinci
The sun cooks my skin
Like I was a cookie
Half of me submerged
In the lake of muffled hearing
So my eyes search the blue
For other suspended travelers
Until my fingers and toes
Turn into raisins
Then I emerge, a soaked beast
Lumbering to a structure
Where I can create thoughts
Of cars whooshing past houses
Just to step in the original soup,
Feel creation from the first electricity
Clouds in the Sky
people whisper about
what’s in the hills
those bushes cover
some things
birds gather on the rocks
look down into the ocean
even the trees stand
heavily bearded
life in their
trunks and limbs
shadows on the grass
and frothy waves
Under the vast
wispy sky
(Inspired by a photo taken by Deborah P Kolodji)
I am a wiry brown cliff tree
Approaching the coming winter
My leaves have fallen off of me
Into the grand canyon below
So I point across the divide
With many gnarly twig fingers
To how wide the years are
You may notice me for a minute
But the carved rainbow ridges will
Captivate you all your short life
As they have mine, when I die
I just want to fall in, remain part
Of the millions through eons
Sky whispers
Wake up my eyes, clouds in the air,
Like trees reach out try to touch moisture
Clouds in the welkin dance with love
Like white dragons or flapping doves
Me and the trees can only watch and sway
Want generated winds to carry us away
Clouds stretch and become so wispy
Spirits in the baby blue get so hot and dry
Trees are a feeling audience and so am I
Some clouds finger God because they are
So fleeting, so temporary, so repetitive there
One day they are this, they know they can fly
The next they are not, I too wish and cry
Eat me ground, process me, send me high
Key to the Sky
Steps
A woman is rejoicing
head upturned with
arms full of fallen apples
The wind itself
shook the tree
like a skeleton
A nearby dog watches
not as Cerberus
but harkened salivator
The mammals dance
give thanks to the sun
provider of decay
Maker of new seeds,
sprouts, puppies,
babies, cadavers
Don Kingfisher Campbell, MFA Antioch University L.A., taught at USC and Occidental College Upward Bound, board member California Poets In The Schools, publisher Four Feathers Press, host of the Saturday Afternoon Poetry reading and workshop series in Pasadena, California. For awards, features, and publication credits, please go to: http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
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