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Rod 4/16/04 Photo by Billy Iz
A Thought for Today
Fortune smiles on those who ignore the
dress code and roll up their sleeves.
THREE POEMS from RUSTING IN THE RAIN
A year ago I was completing Rusting in the Rain, first under the
Hawaiian skies of Maui where I moonlighted at night in Galligan’s
production of “Soul Mates,” the rock opera by Patricia Watson. Maui was
everything I expected and more, I could have spent another month there
but the reality was that I needed to get somewhere closer to – but away
from – home.
Returning to the mainland and home long enough to drop off laundry I lit
out for Palm Springs where I holed up for three more weeks of work.
Hawaii had been hot and humid but there was always an afternoon rain to
cool things off. Palm Springs was an inferno with temperatures always
around or above 100.
I’ve confessed before that in most cases I would prefer saying “I have
written” than “I am writing.” Writing is hard work and maybe it was the
exotic and sultry atmosphere but I have to admit that tuning up and
finishing Rusting in the Rain was one of the more pleasant experiences
in fifty plus years of putting sentences together. For sure an August to
remember.
RM 8/15/04 9:30 PM PDST
In the
past few years Diane Kopperman has traveled from one end of America to
the other shooting photos of Rod at various venues. Here's a photo she
took last year of the Hawaiian cast of "Soul Mates." Look for more of
her photographs in future Flight Plans.
August Asks for Little
I hold in wonderment
the wonders of the day;
the dalliance of daisies in the valley
just below the hill,
the odor of the earth, my ardor
for you as you lie awake against it.
Above your citron–breasts
the nearly cloudless sky is treated
to that honey mouth I traverse often.
I have learned by heart your soft
and nearly alabaster belly.
I fall asleep against it
even when I am away.
Just now my head is upon it and my lips
Are parting to your skin.
As the afternoon glides on love’s weight
does not worry us, it conquers the minute,
compliments the hour.
August asks for little and is not
easily impressed.
If a bright palanquin passed by with heaven
held aloft within it August would only nod.
This lazy month is slow to notice niceties
but it admires the bravery of love.
And now
the night is coupling with the body
of the world
and we have moved from hillside
to the fire.
For those who lie alone this night, a prayer,
that whomever you are waiting for
comes soon and brings along a pocketful
of stars to scatter in your wake on every
dusky eve like this that looms ahead.
Your love continues to sedate me. My arm
across your shoulder has united us as one.
Crows are crawling through the trees
to nests they made ten years ago.
August asks for little and does not
participate.
Whether the wind comes wickedly or with
good intent is of little consequence
to its languid longitude and latitude,
but August lets us be ourselves.
Love is swarming over us
For singing hearts the fairytale
is never over.
At Leisure
I enter you, rest awhile,
the darkness here is
safe.
How I would love to turn the page
of every day in this same way
see everything from your eyes
looking out. Touch what there is
to touch with your fingers, kneading
up against the afternoon as part
of your thighs rubbing.
My cheek grazing yours is like
resolve. The finality of forever.
Your tongue is warm and damp
at leisure in my mouth.
I lounge along your leg
then loaf inside of you.
The only movement anywhere
is the dawn’s bright diamond necklace
as it strings itself across horizons new.
-from Rusting in the Rain, 2003
Don’t forget to join Ken on Wednesday for This One Does it For Me. We
are still hard at work on the rooms at Stanyan House and our editor at
large Bruce Bellingham is retooling his weekly column for the fall
opening of the Library there. So who knows maybe by Thursday I’ll be
able to get back to that stack of Ask Rod mail.
Sleep warm and I hope your week is a safe and happy one. Pray for our
friends in Florida and if you are nearby lend a helping hand.
8/15/2004 10:51 PM PDST
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