Philip Hackett, US

 

Free Verse   Suffer The Children To Play   Whoever thought they'd be sleeping in gutters                                    In America?      In the doorways? On park benches? In the bushes? The deserts? Sleeping in their own excrement, their own urine, on boxes from Safeway                                    over sidewalk grates In the snow, the rain.      No jobs, broken families, many let out of the asylum, the prisons. Many returning from Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan.      All civil wars, not our own.                                    Many finding refuge                  in drunken stupor, and/or drugged filled veins. A lot of them single mothers. A lot of them runaway fathers. A lot of them our children.                   None with proper housing, adequate clothing, malnourished.      Education, medical insurance, a stipend luxuries for these unfortunates                                                       luxuries unobtainable.                                                                     Some                                                                       of us            would have "them" tattooed, like those of another time not long ago.                                                               "Scapegoats".                Would Jesus bomb anyone? Did the nuns teach us this? NO!                             The Mothers of Mercy would have none of this. Nor would any of our fallen heroes.                                                                               Beware!                                                                               Be kind!                                                                            Linger a bit                                               Look into their eyes, at their feet.                                                   Look at their stockingless feet.                                   Lonely, weary, their hearts beating with hope.                                                                         Hope.                     America!     Without Chop Sticks   we walk to yee's on grant for dinner steve, steve and i you order mixed veggies over white rice with a gallon of soy sauce i, i have pork & shrimp over white rice with a little soy sauce sam orders pork & duck over white rice with as much soy sauce as steve & steve we make friends right away with my man on & dough jay & shay shay ging hay fat choy & sunny fy low and joy ging another time it would be sam wo's and woey loy goey on Jackson & washington not far from portsmouth square & the dragon bar where we'd read our poetry in the early 60s the chinese are ready to celebrate their 5,000 new years celebrations this year it's the year of the hare i was born in the year of the snake they have a meaning for the snake - all true i had a hair cut at may lai's saloon on waverly only 5 bucks hell, we could have gone to the double dragon i remember my first studio when i first came to frisco hogan & vest rented it to me for 100 bucks a month sergio & i roomed together only 50 bucks each a month then i discvered the bed & breakfast hotels three squares a day only 80 bucks a month two billion in china three hundred million here     Beneath The Sweltering Sun   the sand seems endless as i hike dune after dune it's like the snowdrifts i trudged through as a young boy through the new england forests but instead of the freezing cold white & wet there was the sweltering sun beige & dry it was truly like being clothed in a sauna the sweat flowed down my head & neck down the nape of my neck & shoulders between the crack of my ass to my feet and soaking my birkenstock sandals cool at night under the full moon the shooting stars of death valley and the mojave desert cool from the great river winding from the north through the sage & bamboo & black ironwood and remnants left on the desert floor rusted beer cans and model t fords i'm sunburnt and delerious delerious over you     Gentle People   Plum blossoms giving way Soon cherry blossoms Colorful floating down to earth Remembering All those fallen Broken hearts, spirits, crying Thankful For all the Great Spirit gives From his bounty full Thankful but perplexed for three times Four times and more now The gentle people of Japan     Gaman   They showed Gaman They endured They were patient They were tolerant They were dignified The Japanese people always showed Gaman In the face of adversity They did it for themselves and their Emperor They showed it after Hiroshima & Nagasaki During the 9.0 and the Tsunami They show it during their infrequent divorces Familia & nation To all others They are a good example Of compassion Of humanity Of Love     Tears of Joy   no sound but my whispering in your ear that i love you finally, our son is born on 4 25 87 at 4 42 a.m. 8 lbs & 14 ozs 20 inches you're sedated the doctors hand our son to me     The Mission for Joana   our fare was the usual for a sunday morning coffee at philz breakfast at roosevelts huevos rancheros it was cold but fair the sun was breaking so cold it snowed in sacramento on mount tam and diablo it could have been a white carpet at the oscars and stars in hollywood i'm betting on the winners and i won an extra taco i usually win and there are never takers should go to reno or vegas it's always sunny in the mission and this morning in roosevelt's on the smiling face the beautiful face of Joana     On Rue Royal   In the French Quarter I dreamed of meeting you in Tel Aviv or Jaffa years later you knocked on my heart and we both smiled and laughed     West of Boston   i don't play the guitar i don't write lyrics to songs i write poetry and i'm an american poet google me philip hackett poet i'm an american i served in the cavalry as a young boy from boston i played in our backyard with plastic soldiers and indians i was protected by wooden forts i hopped a box cart and came west in the sixties to san francisco and worked with the indians & cowboys in the largest county a place called toiyabe i rode the highways up and down north & south east & west my hair was long and my beard was full i liked riding my honda 350 motorcycle in the nude covered with aloe vera i hand-picked from cacti oh, the sweetness of the desert the sage oh, the blackwood burning keeping me warm at my campsite i rode everywhere north on 6 and west on 6 to bodie and to the hot creeks lost money in the casinos in walker & won money in topaz got married in tonopah and divorced in mojave rode to area 51 and scarily rod to l.a. not a good idea     Free Verse   For Daniella   is exhausting in her eloquence and probably with my aries-like pursuit of her attention and her smile she is tall and dark and beautiful no doubt irish all the guys at the italian caffe in north beach were intimidated by her beauty her walk, her grace and her style but no i, not the king of poetry no, he knows a muse when he sees one and pursued her readily took her photo a couple of times of course with her permission and now the king of poetry writes this poem only because of her inspiration     Tanka   leafless tree stands tall it's spider webbing the sky promises of spring hibernating new green buds impatiently awaiting