This, My Columbia

This, My Columbia
... The Columbia River

" Cosmos Cascading " (10x23)

" Cosmos Cascading " (10x23)
August, 2011 id3300

" Blacking Streaking Black Red " ( Right Corner View )

" Blacking Streaking Black Red " ( Right Corner View )
August, 2011 id3286

Friday, April 13, 2007

Boulevardier on a Bench






... In tomorrow town
Waitin' for the trolley
And streetcars of desire.

There are benches
For every metaphor of life -
Benches and cafes
Where a man
Might go to sit and hesitate,

To wait for serendipity and fate,
Wild dancers and destiny
And English ladies drinking tea ...

Friday, April 06, 2007

Jay Licata Haiku - A




Found silk in the night
cacooned sweetly into Spring
Back up the mountain.



Thursday, April 05, 2007

Amongst the Moons...



...and the seasons of our lives
When time has swept us up
And swept us along
Like leaves in a windstorm,

We will have wept
And wished we’d kept
Time dust in our pockets,
Hearts and lockets.

For in too many moons
That have circled us by,
We will have drawn
The breath and sigh
Of memory and memoir
And cloud climbers in the sky.

For I meant to return
But lent the moment
To moon watching
And wonderment
Onto wandering quests

Of coming home
To the Camelot we knew
Where upon breezes lush
A lover's hush fades upon an echo
And the lyrical remembrance of you.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Yes Venice My Love





Yes, Venice
We will be there
Talking love and drinking wine
Far into the soft,
Summer Venetian nights,

Beguiled and lush
In the exotic juxtapose
Of centuries of ambiance
Of the Italian Rose -

The white, the red
Flickering moon petals on canals
Of silkened water flows,

The white rose of Santa Barbara
And the Red rose
Of her heart...

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Come Late Sunday Afternoon



Late Sunday Afternoon
On a chair in the backyard,
Leaned up against the garage
Facing my vegetable garden,


Glass of wine in hand
Listening to the opera
Loud and Italian -

The opera Pagliacci
Old Caruso record -
Aria -Vesta la Guiba


Drinking the wine
And rose water
Of lost love
And sweet remembrance

Of children wished to have had
In pictures from the long ago,
In the gray shades
Of lost passions never shared

And the destiny and fate
That seemed not
To have cared.


Still in daydreams
I walked with her
And sang to her,
Yet this is how i fared...

Monday, April 02, 2007

In The Quest...

For love,
Supercilious is tedium,
For by middle life
We should become aware
Title and gold will wait
an eternity at heaven's gate, for
what money secures immortality,
fills in our last chapters
with a great love or lesser -
but a love story nonetheless.

We start out as children
and end up much like children;
in between it's mostly puff and veneer
with but the patina of our altruism
and humanism remaining,
that we have been able to mount
in our less than ideal lives,
lived out in a less than perfect world.

Therefore, to quest,

To glimpse the colors
Of love in Autumn
And the glimmer of lodestones
Glinted in the midst of Winter
And reflected in your eyes,
As I pass this place
And have this joy to brace me
Amongst shifting sands
And timeless space.


Sunday, April 01, 2007

Centuries ago...



















...we pressed together,
Shoulder to shoulder
And ran the rivers of diaspora,
When the inquisition
Came to Spain.

And from pogroms of pain,
My Tuscan soul, Iberian heart,
Knew not the wet
Of tears from rain,

For as fearful lovers,
We ran the rivers
To the Mediterranean,

Yet bid goodbye,
Your fathers
To the coasts of Africa,
And mine to Corsica

Where brilliant white,
The Trumpeter Swan,
Against the bluest sky,
Called out to Abraham
And freedom's cry
And promised us
We'd meet again,

If only hundreds of years
Of wingbeats and heartbeats later,
When the kismet birds of destiny,
Circle with the Trumpeter,
Windswept, above the clouds,
And in the heavens of Seattle.