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About The North Coast times-eagle. (Wheeler, Oregon) 1971-2007 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 1, 2001)
PAGE 9 NORTH COAST TIMES E A G L E , AUGTEMBER 2001 HOLLYHOCKS They blossom in April, a pastel green prepared for life, purple and white flowers like kites or vivid compasses pointing out bees. Toward the end of August the bloom begins to fade, petals fall away revealing stems curved like arms that pour dew into the cups of leaves. Late September, the changing face of the sky bends close over the magnetic pole as the Great Whales swim into the spiral of their feed. The spears of hollyhock sink to their knees. -JOHN BUCKLEY (D. 1999) AUTUMN SONG GAYLE STARR POETRY After summer's scorching sun After bitter burning After Comes The Rain Soft mist, enfolding, wrapping A weary world in Warm fire lit rooms Watching sun worn woods Drink life from drifting air A full stomach says: A ripe guava has worms. When mist drips from the eaves An empty stomach says: When evening lights the world Let me see from dawn to dusk -CREOLE PROVERB When fire flickers on the turning page What is this funny bunch of hell we do to each other When steam warms the heart and nose speaking with uncontained smiles When warmth of home makes hostages of us all we communicate the powers of the soul whilst gods and demons fight within Then, sing the songs of attacking friends while tearing out Autumn at benign nature AGE it can take a long time to find heaven's door even if we feel allowed to knock thou givest me growing pains my lord and humors rife bright and raging oh pass us down from the gate of hell for a bit and let our stomachs ride the grassy clouds for the dear morning seems too near from eldritch suffer complaining alert alert I've just made you mad for myself the vicious ego from blackwood dragons I've come so far the fire still remaining this hardened blue crystal watch the lights within me and learn history's price barnyard roosters with hens aplenty crowing and cackling at passers by I laugh to myself but not for long as life's pain sets in -PHILLIP RANDOLPH The facts Although interesting Are irrelevant TRACY ANN McCUSKER 5 BARN SWALLOWS FEEDING Overcast sky, light drizzle; a tractor mows swaths in the tall green mix of grass and weeds. A flock of barn swallows careens in snatching unseen insects scattered skyward from their leveled home Black heads, blue-black backs, the deep forked "swallow-tails" with their thin white streaks, the rusty throats and cinnamon-buff underneaths. A quick dive and sideways slide, lean, then spread and lift left wing, bank right, slight flutter and pull, pull up sharp, stop short there in hover then swing wide and dip to catch the tiny prey. Flare tail and coast; flap, then flap again, wing tips tipped back at end of stroke. Under, over, calling out short chirps between themselves, wheeling off, away, then back. The tractor passes east and west across the field, and the mower’s long steel blades cut low, lay flat flower head, stem, and leaf in straight and even rows. -JIM DOTT TO A SKID ROW WAITRESS Give us your bravest a.m. smile, wipe the fogged counter of our minds. Towel up the crumbs of our flaky poems, ignore the deep-fried disorder of thought. Dismiss the weak coffee paleness of wit, forgive the dishwasher muck of our words. But really you season the soup of the day, you butter both sides of our bread. Out to the street for whatever spare change, this day we shall drink to your eyes only. -BILL BERTIN (Who is 18 August 7, 2001) TILLAMOOK AIR MUSEUM 4 don’t we think we're smart enough Martian teeth and wary stragglers struggling for resolve themselves are voicing in the dark wishing for no hell in their bellies and blindly striking out at shadows in their minds unforswom but don't come again in here for a while we're all dancing gypsies laughing at roily poly bears starting the day anew we joke at devils and bite cars we're not afraid of death just patient -CHRIS KRAMER The behemoth beckoned for eons dwarfing cows in pacific pastures until I came to pay for a neck-craning view of the vault. Zeppelins extinct, the hangar is home now to scores of war birds gaily arrayed in rows with legends Winter chill invades when I encounter a companion of old. Angst of enemy air raids. First words of the child of war: Mutti, Tata. Bombalarm. No sleep is safe from the wailing of sirens, struggles with buttons and shoelaces, staccato of running feet. From my blanket cocoon I mark the migration by tunnel lights overhead Heavy tread wears down the stone steps to the Bunker vtfiere my mother pitches her songs against the rumble and roar of planes waxing and waning in black-out skies I learn my lullabies to rocking walls and a basso conti nuo of fear BIPOLAR DOGMATA AN OLD STORY IN A NEW LIGHT There was a Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden as well as a Tree of Good & Evil. Little has been heard of the Tree of Life which became obscure and forgotten due to the effects of the powerfully magnetic fruit of the Tree of Good & Evil The irresistible fruit from the Tree of Good & Evil was a terribly deadly and invisible-to-science poison. The poison from the fruit of the Tree of Good & Evil divided the human mind from itself, causing a condition known as Bipolar Dogmata Bipolar Dogmata was not then, nor has it been since, acknowledged and named as the toxic, parasitic and killing mind-force that it is On the contrary, commonly referred to as "partisan politics," "divine right of kings," "Prosecution and defense," "love and hate," etc., the systems created by the effects of Bipolar Dogmata have been welcomed, utilized and counted as major and virtually infallible tools for dealing with all human affairs. There is no nostalgia in war if you have ever been bombed Q.ED. -VALERIE LINDHOUT KARIN TEMPLE EILEEN WATTERSON RABERN HANN EMAN JOHENNING ('E.JOH')
