You Have Richard Hittleman, I Have Penguins
I wake in the middle
of the night....now,
and I peacefully watch the stars.
Sometimes I hover above
the bed
desiring to visit the stars -
but fearful I wouldn't return.
What is it that draws
me to you?
It is certainly more
than your physical being.....
certainly more.
I feel sometimes you
are god
watching me....letting me...
trade ambrosia
in on self-conscienceness.
For every step forward
we take two back.
The secret is to stand still
like a penguin....
allowing the universe
to flow in.
I wake in the middle
of the night....now,
and I peacefully watch the stars.
Sometimes I hover above
the bed
desiring to visit the stars -
but fearful I wouldn't return.
What is it that draws
me to you?
It is certainly more
than your physical being.....
certainly more.
I feel sometimes you
are god
watching me....letting me...
trade ambrosia
in on self-conscienceness.
For every step forward
we take two back.
The secret is to stand still
like a penguin....
allowing the universe
to flow in.
Hoop Dreams
If you ran into
a basketball pole
with your head
and never recovered.......
I would bring you daisies
in the afternoon
and give you Tarot readings
in the evening.
I would rub your toes
(to restore the proper cerebral centers)
and I would shave
your legs.
I would bring the children
to visit you....
in the garden among
the old pumpkin leaves.
I would write letters
to our friends,
describing your condition
as stable.
I would do all
of these for you.....
and let my warm tears
run down your cheek.
8/26/03
Sharp Eyes, Swift Wings
Every evening
I would watch the web......
the spider growing fatter
with each meal.
When it would perceive me.....
the spider would crouch
deeper under a leaf.
Its existence
exquisitely ordered,
wovenly perfect.
Nov. 16, 1976
The spider is gone.
no sign of a struggle.....
only three strands of
web.......gone!
Perhaps it became
careless.....
and ventured into
the daylight.
Swift wings
and sharp eyes
don't allow
for mistakes.
I miss that avocado dweller.
Listen, Just As Soon as _______ is Over
Everything is Going to Be Alright
Ram Dass skipping across
the backs of our minds
telling us to be here now..........
or at least
as soon as possible!
I stop many times
and look out the windows
at the ocean........
and almost see
a wave stop. Almost!
The pressures of life
build unmercifully
in our minds...pointing to nothing more
to come except more to come.
I once cut a college class
and peacefully drove to Dohemy.....
Only to find out it
was a state beach....and I was broke.
Do you remember the days
in South Laguna
on the rocks with
the hermit crabs?
Listen, just as soon as __________
is over, everything
is going to be alright!
12-23-76
The following ten poems are from The Photographer and the Poet by Stephen Housley
Dreams
I fell asleep again.
I was dreaming the dream
and I didn't even know it.
Well.....I knew.
I just didn't want to admit it.
I was sung to sleep by my parent's deaths.
By the passing from my life
of two very important people.
I had been awake for so long
before that moment........
Since I met you.
Perhaps after two years...
I'm finally beginning to awaken again.
I do this only because you hold me;
because you listen to my feelings.
Without you
I could not exist.
7/ 19/95
Ocean
A smell of sea-air
on the 405..........
promises of things to come.
A time of loneliness,
a time of solitude,
a time of sensitive loving, too.
There is an ocean
that exists
in all people, I suppose.
Mine exists
totally surrounding
all that I do...all that I am.
I have waited
for my ocean
for many years now.......for many years.
1974
A smell of sea-air
on the 405..........
promises of things to come.
A time of loneliness,
a time of solitude,
a time of sensitive loving, too.
There is an ocean
that exists
in all people, I suppose.
Mine exists
totally surrounding
all that I do...all that I am.
I have waited
for my ocean
for many years now.......for many years.
1974
Too-Loose-The-Trek
With brush in hand,
and pictures in mind,
he began to paint the world.
Ah...the world!
A round place
with many fine oceans.
Birds flying over calico-backed cats-
the never ending wind
moving the leaves
closer to the ground.
All of this captured upon the canvas
of the mind... a beautiful picture
that he could never find in the paint.
Some talked of drugs,
others of gods...
few of living and love.
The people moved through
slowly.... awkwardly...
animals seemed at times
the only real friends.
The one true love of his life...
always fragile,
always fragile.
The times of laughter
were the best times..
slow, quiet moments
were the most spiritual.
The wonderings about existence.....
hoping all the graves
were lies.
With brush in hand......
and pictures in mind -
he began to flee the world.
A Song for Frecky
As Freckles lies dying -
I have calmed her several times
by singing "Do-Do-Do" to her.
I had forgotten
just how powerful
that lullaby could be.
For years both Babe and Big requested that song,
with my adopted words,
that had allowed the peaceful dreams of childhood.
And now I sing this song.......
I sing this song
as a very old and very good friend is dying.
I wish I could do more for Frecky
than sing an old song
to an old cat.
But then...
maybe that is all any of us desire, really...
the peaceful dreams of childhood.
12/23/95
Christmas Lights Dec. 28th
Neil Young on the stereo,
balls rolling on the pool table...
I don't think I've ever been this peaceful in my life.
There are places I miss;
People and animals that I miss.
But I've never known as timeless and peaceful place as Baja Del Cerro.
You've drawn me here
with hazel eyes and promises of the ocean
But the real promise was this place.
Freckles knew. She knew I would bury her here;
she had seen me the bury the other animals
where we had lived before.....
And now...
You and I will play out our final times together -
In this place.....
at the end of the world.
At Baja Del Cerro -
Together........
forever.
Neil Young on the stereo,
balls rolling on the pool table...
I don't think I've ever been this peaceful in my life.
There are places I miss;
People and animals that I miss.
But I've never known as timeless and peaceful place as Baja Del Cerro.
You've drawn me here
with hazel eyes and promises of the ocean
But the real promise was this place.
Freckles knew. She knew I would bury her here;
she had seen me the bury the other animals
where we had lived before.....
And now...
You and I will play out our final times together -
In this place.....
at the end of the world.
At Baja Del Cerro -
Together........
forever.
Holding Hands
As we sat watching you graduate
from high school,
I thought about when you were a boy
and would hold my hand wherever we went.
You did this for more years than what I think
a boy would do with his dad...
That it caused me
to have mixed feelings.
Part of my mixed feelings
were do in part to the fact
that you were so tall for your age.
I imagined it looked odd to strangers.
I thought people would think
you and I weird because
we still had that kind of bond...
That kind of need which was still so strong.
I wanted to tell you
not to hold my hand anymore
when we were out in public....
When we away from the safety of our home.
But it is funny -
I never did say that to you.
And you continued to hold my hand
wherever we went.
Oh...sometime it happened
that you stopped.
I can't remember exactly when.
Perhaps just before you played Giant Knothole.
What I wanted to say......
What I wanted you
to know is this.. I'm glad I never said anything
to you about not holding my hand.
I'm very glad I enjoyed this closeness
longer
than most fathers do
with their sons.
this was one of
the few things
I have done with absolute correctness
in my life.
6/10/90
Sometimes you look so pretty...
other times
you look old to me.
Your eyes are always
the eyes of a child..
either happy or sad.
You smile for me
with your mind,
but less often now.
You try so hard
to understand for me
why I've changed.
You need to know
if it's something
you've said or done.
My change is like that
of Siddhartha.
The world has nothing more offer.
Stay.... and ferry me
back to the other side;
back to your arms.
I can't remember
if I'm God pretending to be me
or me pretending to be angry.
I live life with such a great intensity...
so much so that sometimes I think
I almost forget to breathe.
I'm working with some people who
are very lonely after living
an intense life with another person,
for many years.
None of them understand
why they are so alone.
it just doesn't make sense to them;
or to me either, I guess.
You and I have lived together
now for many years.
the more I'm with you the more I hate
the thought of not being with you.
I'm not pretending to be angry now -
I hate this world that it gave you to me
without the possibility of
forever.
My father, who loved his children
a great deal(because they made him feel so good)
didn't know what to do
when they began to move away.
To help him endure the sudden loss
he began to collect dogs.
Mostly stray dogs abandoned near his home
who would come to his front door and beg for love.
These dogs were a somewhat a mangy lot
who asked for nothing but food
and gave my father the greatest gift in return.....
The love of children who would never go away.
These animals became so important
that my parents began to call themselves
Mamma-dog and Papa-dog
in honor if their canine children.
Then one day in the summer of 1992
their two remaining dogs ran away and didn't
come home and eat the treats that my parents
left in their pens in their honor.
Mamma-dog and Papa-dong knew then
that all of life is elusive
and that children and dogs
only stay for a short time.
And now my parents have left us......
as our children have recently done.
In the night I sometimes I hear a car slow
and a door slam,
And I wonder.......is it our children returning
or someone abandoning a mamma-dog or a papa-dog.
Through the view-finder
life comes rushing in
at the photographer.
He sees it...
focuses.......
releases the shutter.
Life.....
contained forever on a small,
chemically treated piece of plastic or light sensor.
No arguments,
no denials....
no conflicts. Just life.
The photographer smiles,
as all must smile,
at the absurd thought of life captured.
The photographer knows
that all life captures us......
not the other way around.
And yet he searches,
as all must do
for that final, perfect photograph.