TRAIL GOING BY GEORGE WALLACE

TRAIL GOING
here we are at the doorway to the heart, take my hand, what tempos we will discover, what companionships, the sun in your eyes is my sun too, the real is in the real, the mystery underlying, this trail which is your trail is my trail too, it is my nightfall and silences,

this improbable disorientation of logical appearances, this momentary confusion, nothing can separate us now, take my hand or go it alone, i am with you, my heart races with yours, the sweet bronzing of your skin is my skin too, my eyes blink away the same cobwebs and tears as yours,

every whiplash of every branch or twig, the warble of every invisible creature that makes my body bristle, the wind which passes through your hair like raw underbrush is my wind too, the humors and corridors, the scent in your nostrils of moss, mold and decay, new growth emerging out of old,

and i am with you sure footed as a rabbit on a ridgetop, and slow with you when going slow is called for, and i am riding with you on the bootheels and tiniest avalanches of your going,

pebble, twig, pebble, twig, bone

and i am with you when you catch your breath, when you linger before a dreamscape that never knew your eyes, when you listen for the wooded throat of a bird, birds in song that never knew the listening,

every discovery the first discovery, every trail the doorway to the heart,

it's not infinite, but it is infinite enough, and you and I will go and go together, and never exhaust the possibilities

                                          — George Wallace

George Wallace is editor of Poetrybay, co-editor of Great Weather for Media, and author of 29 chapbooks of poetry. He was first poet laureate of Suffolk County, LI NY and was named National Beat Poetry Festival laureate for 2915016. Since 2011 he has been writer in residence at the Walt Whitman Birthplace.  George is a regular on the poetry performance scene in New York City and travels internationally to perform, lead workshops and lecture on literary subjects. 

New Huckleberry from John Roche

Huckleberries

Huckleberrying with Henry David
Huckleberrying with Huckleberry Finn
Huckleberrying with Huckleberry Hound
Huckleberrying with Rizzuto and his huckleberries
How come I can't find huckleberries in the supermarket?
They've got blueberries, strawberries, raspberries,

black raspberries, even lychee nuts and gooseberry jam, but no huckleberries
"Blueberry America" long gone.
Olson said it was covered in "Jersey dump-smoke" even back in Williams' day.
Most of the blackberry patches of my youth have been built over,

 or torn out, or surrendered to Round-up.
But where did the huckleberries go?
Google tells me huckleberry was once a term of endearment
as in "you're my little huckleberry".
Google tells me they're the state fruit of Idaho.
Is that where all the huckleberries are hiding?
Maybe we need a Johnny Huckleberryseed to go east instead of west.
Maybe we need to plant them in every abandoned strip mall.
Maybe huckleberries will inherit the earth, long after we're gone.

                                        ----John Roche

REMEMBERING KEN WARREN

  In ways seen and unseen Ken Warren has been instrumental to the beginning and continuation of the CLOUDBURST COUNCIL. Ken died in 2015 at age 63. He headed Lakewood Public Library for 25 years and made it the top library in the Country six years in a row.  He retired to start what he called "the life unlived". He was House Organ, a finely edited and amazingly punctual four times a year small press publication. He authored Captain Poetry's Sucker Punch: A Guide to the Homeric Punkhole 1980-2012.  His taste for poetry's living aspect allowed him to publish a variety of poets and once CLOUDBURST started some of them decided to spend the weekend with Ken and the rest of us for Friendship Among Poets. When I heard he died, I thought and I know spoke to John Roche wondering "Who will there be to set the agenda for poetry now?"  Ken had a way of seeing to the heart of things and wouldn't hesitate to suggest what you might want to do next. He was kind enough to also let me know I had sent him down a few paths he might not of found otherwise which is actually something I take as a great compliment to my work. Our conversations about the true economy of poetry are conversations I embrace. Among the hats that Ken wore, the small press publishing of House Organ was one I could understand. He was looking forward to the publishing of Issue number 100 of House Organ.  "There are so many little deaths who is to say which one is really dying". No Issue 100 of House Organ. No more conversations with Ken Warren.

   Saturday morning May 14, 2016 at 9:30 PM  at the fifth CLOUDBURST COUNCIL we are meeting at the Gell Center main lodge building to hold a remembrance for Ken Warren. Either prepared or spontaneous tributes, stories, poems, recounting, art forms, all expressions welcome.
Here are some photos of Ken at various events. I am also posting my poem for Ken that I wrote last Spring.

                   --Alan Casline

WHAT BOOK WILL NEVER BE REACHED FOR?

                           for Kenneth Warren                          

from the shelf tumbles dust

dry words, unread pages

there is heaven and earth

Ontario become a dark ship in a lake of gods

your soul was as constant as the driven wind

deep soul, beautiful lake, beautiful water

it is a taking away, taken from us

the subject of poetry as you know too well

a cloudburst unleashed

the evening cry of gulls

sunset below the pattern of storm

driven like sleep finally come

aftermath of black waves

growing wave crests orange

almost all the beats would be fine

in rhythm, but then there would be

a pause, a skip

I’d glance at you, eye to eye

and see the terrible aloneness

what bright color might next catch our interest?

bury that thought as they now bury you

the rabbit in the moon

was placed there

as tribute for rabbit’s sacrifice

of his life and substance

for the saving of others

                                          Alan Casline         

                                         May 25, 2015

                                Elsmere, New York

New Poem by Michael Czarnecki

Daily Spontaneous Poem #482
2/25

this moment
light snow falls outside
as I sit inside near woodstove
here on Wheeler Hill

I’m not only here watching snow
I’m on granite rocks above ocean
I’m in schoolhouse cabin in Cameron
with Terry, side of road Nova Scotia
talking with Uncle Ed at kitchen table
at Quaker draft counseling center
with Rhonda in backyard garden
hanging with friends in Dillon, MT
sipping whiskey in Louisiana with local judge
in deep conversation over Acadia campsite fire
sipping sake with Sue
on Adirondack road with Steve
Cadillac Mountain skiing with Dave
lunch conversation with Diana
up Conner’s Nubble with Carolyn
watching my kids come into life
walking in snowstorm with Elise
holding granddaughter’s hand
gazing upward for Perseid meteors
in living room with Margaret
on side of road in awe of Snowy Owl
at far edge of America, Pacific shore
by roadside memorial for Barbie
in Autumn woods with Michelle
at Lake Champlain shore bonfire

this could go on and on and on
so many experiences
so many people
so many places
part of past life
part of present life
part of future life

Michael Czarnecki

Stephen Lewandowski: New Poem

 MY OLD HEART

Rocky highlands

south of here

are full of deer.

When roused at dusk

by a walker

they flee away

white tails held erect.

Long after their bodies

fade into the brush

you can follow

the flash & flare

of their tails

bounding away.

A woman who lives alone

high in sun rise and set

beside the highlands’

shady gullies and glens

can be chased but

will not be caught.

You would be a fool

to pursue her.

           ---Stephen Lewandowski

3119 FILLMORE STREET

3119 FILLMORE STREET

3119 doesn’t exist anymore except maybe

in Hopi or some other dreamscape

maybe in ye old hipster’s drunken stupor

sunlight inhabiting his sore eyes

pain in the brain cavity,

you awake to the next day

time and comfort indeterminable

the space was long and narrow like a bowling alley

now a renovation combined what was once Six Gallery

with the rest of the building.  “That’s cityspace”

a restaurant reviewer wrote when sketching the history

sadly only going back a decade or two reporting the change-over

from closed Kasa Indian Eatery to Tacko,

a restaurant with “Tacos/Lobster Rolls/ Burritos”

painted below the Tacko sign

There is no shrine but there is a plaque

3119 doesn’t exist except in the mythological present

the space was an auto repair garage,

a rug store (“Silkroute International”)

the shops change

couldn’t stop twice

in the same storefront’s foot mat

if I was there on the block of Fillmore between Filbert and Pixley Street

I’d have a whiskey at The Comet Club (Established 1912)

The Comet a time factor in the swirling maze that is memory

By the reality of this Club, next door to nevermore 3119

found in old photos and via Google Earth

The Marina District, once Cow Hollow

3119 Six Gallery Reading

Friday October 7, 1955 in San Francisco

sent out around a hundred postcards announcing the reading

Ginsberg wrote on the post cards

would be angels on the stage

                         ---Alan Casline

BEATS AND BEYOND AT CLOUDBURST COUNCIL 2016

 Six Gallery Reading, Friday October 7, 1955 at 3119 Fillmore Street in San Francisco.
Reading poetry that day were, Allen Ginsberg, Phil Lamantia, Michael McClure, Gary Snyder and Phil Whalen. I read that you couldn't have a poetry reading such as this one today because these poets believed their poetry could change the world. Of course I don't believe we are still not writing poetry that will change the world but I think the emphasis and the importance of the Six Gallery reading is not overstated.

 At CLOUDBURST COUNCIL, the poets gathering are stretching beatward off and along there own roads to glory. A reenactment of the Gallery Six  Reading will be presented by John Roche, Michael Czarnecki, Nick Eckerson, Dwain Wilder, George Wallace, ryki zuckerman with the crowd to be played by our cloud.  It is too bad some of our most beat past participants aren't going to be here.
It'll be up to the old who have roots that reach back that far and to the young who all love "On the Road" just as much as I did to carry on.

                                  --Alan Casline

Photo ID from top left to right: Michael Czarnecki, Dwain Wilder, ryki zuckerman, John Roche, Michael Peters.