NEWYEARSPOEMS

larry goodell

a duende spur of the moment presentation

2014 larry goodell
placitas, new mexico 87043
larrygood@comcast.net

NEWYEARSPOEMS

3 poems written on New Years and 1 on New Years Eve,

unpublished manuscripts.
The New Now from LIZARD BOWL, 1992.
Such As It Is from BREATH, 2002.
The Day Before the Day of the Dead Days from PIECES OF HEART, 2014.
New Years Day Night from REMEMBERING THE PRESENT, 2008.

The New Now

I love you so much
sky fallen hours
the computer of my word mind
fails to come up with any better phrase
than I love you
a bushel in the pew
of empty bibles
a minister with no head
an organ without pipes
gladiolas deprived of their vases
bells with no clappers
an offertory with nothing to offer
a communion with no wine, no grape juice
no crackers --a church with no god
a god with no past
a past past chains
and freed of the future
a sermon with no words
a song with no melody
a hymn that was never written
rises from our feet through
the church with no walls through
the ceiling of clouds
into the canopy of trees
floating in the mystery-high
heaven
a mirror with no image

,
only the earth, this snow
this ice, this cold apricot tree
tannish juniper a
distant choice old apple tree
young cherry &
struggling peach
what divides us
when there is no church
Earth with no message
but itself
grasping for a less
masochistic image.
My computer analog
flesh and bone-brain
sees my love
loving out to
Whitmanesque degree.
The you in you
is who?
Not brother
not any other
a friend and yet another
takes your place
the Earth itself beyond ever seeing knowing
all of anything
you are of the Earth imagining
representative
and out of the form of some Earth of mind


your opposite woman
you are born as
a fair carrier of the Earth sense
of loving plants as much as us
animals as much as us
I love you
Earth unknown church without ever
being a church
as broad as Whitman our only
Eastern-minded Westerner
save the Indians already here
you friend, history talks
we share a long conversation bringing in the New Year
you wonderful companion of Earth
woman as little
as I see
is all you
become, lasts
into a new direction of you
I remember my friend
and now you are you
beyond friend
a natural you
I address
love as a pleasant
issue


as religious
as round is
as the free mind
expounded
cold January
fire limpidly going
Sun intermittent
you sit reading in the rocking chair by the stove
I sit being blessed in words by
New Year's Eve party friends
who carry on the years
into a builded openness
that trusts trust.
Love exudes in spite of all
undefined, but declared.
Effuses.
Amuses.
Friendship love long
friendship love.
Wife of love long
wife long love
deepens in
continuing.
A meditation on a musing.
One, two, three.


The whole is not centered,
the whole of everything.
My centering is.
Giving gifts by trust.
Me to the you yous.
Is it warm?
Do you get
anything from vagaries?
Not intense work
but relaxed.
First
day
of the mythology of the year
is born.
Sir James Fraser, 1st of January 1854.
We begin our step upward into
friendship and love,
that is
downward into the Earth
weaving mysteries from
a piece of toast
whole wheat homemade
& homemade applesauce
from the choice old apple tree
I see below
a possible Winesap
the VCR unreeling Entr Nous
in the other room


French fills the air with
a kiss of choices
a wish for
continuance in
the angle of growth
playing with clichs
when you can't
avoid them
invoking the rapture of
the muse
Erato of erotic song
with a lyre
Euterpe of lyric song
with a double flute
Calliope of epic song
with a tablet & a pencil
Polyhymnia of sacred song
veiled & thoughtful
Thalia of comic & pastoral song
with a mask & staff
"inspire the poet and prompt his song"
or from any source
ease the chair away through
the veils of rapid worlds
to rest the mind in
the set of friends
that you do have
though seeming so dispersed
though never satisfied
each from
the essential loneliness
of our unattached bodies


planets in our own space
of birth, alone
of death, alone
between
celebrate
bravely
openness
to grow until I die
I die open
and come back to
soul
mates
a soul with no
definition
an ambience
of man and wife
an ambience of our care.
A dancing dare
to give when
the other bends.
A bouncing from friendship
to marriage.
Bouncing back from friendship
to marriage
in the house that is the church
lived in
a doxology of life
in the now
the new now
the now now.

Such As It Is
for Steve and Jane Sprague

Everything is exquisite
as the Ponce de Leon find,
the fountain of youth flows
in the passing moment.
Eternity is always youthful
as it begins always from the beginning
as I do, no matter
what age I am.
No past no future
not even a now.
Just is-ness, such is such
a gift giving away.
A moment being momentous.
What now.
Cool to bed
to warm up.
Tired from
the first day of a New Year.
Posole
biscochitos
anasazi beans
homegrown poblano chile
jalapeos relish
and flour tortillas


pistachios
apple juice
tea, coffee, local bing cherry wine
brownies baked
on sour cherries,
olive bread friends brought,
homegrown almonds,
a tap dance on the kitchen floor
all after a late morning hike
to the spring
and up across arroyos
to snow patched hills
overlooking the houses, the village
and down here home,
warm with
the closest of friends
blends into never-never land
reality plus reflection.
January first
bursting
with pleasure.

The Day Before the Day

of the Dead Days
The day of the day of the day before the day of the dead days
when everything becomes clear whats happening this day
saying goodbye forever on this planet and maybe all elsewhere
item goodbye, good riddance, and this year Ive learned my lesson.
The day that comes just after all the dead days when you can look back
and you know the day to be dead youre looking out from
aint gonna be any better but worse maybe, the link to link to years
gets grungier gets more defiled as humans act like the mad mice
in the overpopulation experiment years ago
when there are too many of them they get crazy crazier than themselves,
they act like humans do when they overpopulate self-righteously
thinking it is my right to overpopulate and stink up the world
overpopulate yes overpopulate the business-scientists dont like the word
saying technology is the saint that will always save us, man will fuck out
hell fuck himself out of any situation, Man is the supreme donkey of the
universe, the jackass of hope, the stinkeroony of paradise.
We will fight and will survive we will be he, he-haw he-haw, as they
donkey-fuck themselves through the jackass skies the jackass moon
the jackass stars,
everything is opportunity to them, he-haw, every poisoned thing they touch,
corrupting the seas with their stacked cruise-ship filth and the pipes
of running sewage and chemical wastes and animal slaughter run-off.
The jackasses of earth are convinced theyre the saints of earth, he-haw,
and can do any he-haw thing they wish since the earth is just a giant
landfill.

10


Thank you God for all the blessings we have to make things worse.
Ill kill myself out of any situation Ill use my brain to
devise new self-defense mechanisms that
we know are assault weapons in disguise, in fact everything
is to disguise, there is just one rule do as you wish to get what you want,
kiss the rich ass and become like them, ape the wealthy and you shall become
like them if not really them,
since they are the king-rule jackasses of all time he-haw the business leaders
of oil and weapons, poisoned-tank food,
big box products that spin you out in debt in gambling and drinking palaces
as bright colorful lights disguise your demise, take a pill dear,
take another pill not so dear, take a pill: fear surrounds us
on the day of the day of the day of the dead day, the coming alive seems
remote
the weather hits us with surprise surprise surprise, we told you so,
and youre worshiping yourself in the mirror wouldnt allow the news
to be sad, to be real, to be criticizing yourself, pointing out
your entire panorama is a sham and based on your favorite thing,
ignorance.
Oh ignorance is bliss and I eat you, I become you, lets kill the endangered
for fun
and rule the world Oh we already do! on the day of the dead days the day
thats supposed to be alive, things can only get better, oh excuse me,
worse, which is better. We want to rip-roar and be ourselves
and Americanize everything which means hire the rest of the world to
powder our checks and fumigate our asses, he-haw,
on the day of the day of the day of the dead days when everything comes alive
to be dead again, what more can be said, what more can be said.

11

New Years Day Night

The sacred is counterpoised to the dastardly
and soon as I grab one the other competes
its gnaw against gnaw, vein against vein
arm to arm in constant tussle & surprise
as the massive Earth moves through centuries unaware of either
because the One that is everything is a composite of both
sailing through the Universe creating energies . . . .
May I be one with the dark side of the light so that the stirrings
will ignite
energies of love, compassion, wisdom, concentrations, all those
borrowings from what I read:
am I aware that Im awake, and the worry, like an abrasive rub,
shakes my act, brings me back to the reality of it, it inflames
it wrestles and grows, fanned by my inattention, my trying
to shove it out: instead
I rest on it and absorb, welcome, see it, give it the energy of
my commitment to be open to self, self, that disappearing thing
dissolves with the Earth as love keeps insisting it is:
the true energy of commingling things.

13

a duende spur of the moment presentation

2014 larry goodell
placitas, new mexico 87043
larrygood@comcast.net

(impromptu paper mask used as a hanging

or poem backing)

NEWYEARSPOEMS

larry goodell