H e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i v e s E d i t i o n

ANDY CLAUSEN

For Janine

The oak tree convinces me of its strength

It is a teacher

The maple sapling of Asian descent

Struggling through a dry spell

The sun muting hemlocks in a war

with their white infestation

the fuzzy adelgid

The ever populous poplars

The seductive air emanating

from harshless electric ferns

There's room for many

in the sustenance

The forest displays the lights

of all human paintings

The needle pointillism

is a complete and unfailing mother

Living wood stands

The Commune of the Future

The insects champion variety

and outrageous shape

pushing the boundaries of beauty

beyond experience

An ancient harmony of myriads

emphasizing and isolating

every sound not of it

The dramas of loud human family arguments

Big wheeler cargo tires and roar another gear

Choppers above up to no good

Relentless chain saws, back hoes, timber crack

& thud

as dogs bark and dogs bark

It could be a cat, a coyote, a fox, the bear

and water begins to boil

in the homes and monasteries

We fly without machines

over tors that look

like hardened muscle

of stone masons

We float over tribal vista aretes

and metaphysical peaks

Waves crashing glistening spectrums

exploding on the behemoth grey rocks

where the Mayakovskys and Isabelle Eberharts

hear the verse and saga

with direct orders to be written

in the place where adventurers

dream a reality

running eclectic in silken wolds jubilant

bouncing through the splendid quag

singing to the fecund rotting duff

O elegant mushrooms and low ground berries

Behold the feral flowers of prairie and tundra

Heroic genetics of renegades

the well bred roses are not your enemy

glorify and hosannah

the columbines and loose strife

and big leafy hibiscus

and the mosaic meshed mandalas of randomness

weaved into One

I'm beginning to see Design

The great books explain it

But the heavenly blues of morning glory

delighted me

The poets and prophets sweat and secreted it

The scriptures outlined location

The scientists analyzed it to death

The priests tried to market it

The leaders of armies were ready

to kill for it

The world was prepared to pay

or make it pay

One thing for sure

the world did not want it free

but I knew the running water

I had slept in a private way

with the woman who danced

in the sky

I had gone down on the ground

I touched her flesh

We are the sparkling belt of Orion

We are the orange moon

and the result of the sun's light

The eyes hold the jewels

The thighs the lotus

yes I'm beginning to see Design

[Originally published in NHS 2003, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs03/clausen.html.]