poems

a small sampling of poems by Mankh

to receive email notifications when new poems and essays posted
(no schedule but approximately twice a month), email:
mankh(a)allbook-books.com

recent poems

topical poems posted
at Axis of Logic where, for many years, Mankh was resident poet

17-minute poetry reading as part of the Oceanside Library zoom series (note: with the haiku in the last minutes or so the singing bowl sounds didn’t record properly)

audio versions of poems

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#LoveSpeech

#tug-of-war
#SitWithUkraine(NATO/IMF) and dialogue
#IsThatEvenPossible?
#StandWithStandingRock and protect the waterways
#DigYourHeelsIn and stop the lithium mine at Thacker Pass*
   (Peehee Mu'huh)
#HikeTheMountains so they don’t get blown-up
#RunForTheHills so they don’t get mined
#JogMyMemory with how foolish it is
   to think you can own land
   yet that’s the re-source of our troubles
#MeditateWithTreesRocksFrogs
#CrawlWithToddlers of every country, nation and people
#SprintWithTheMessage of Peace
#WalkTheTalk
#PaceBackAndForth with nervousness about weapons
   shipped around the world
#IfYouHate-HateSpeech you buy into that way of thinking
Sometimes #STFUandListen is what’s needed
   yet now more than ever and for the long haul
   we need #HeartSpeech

note: * Protect Thacker Pass & Protect Thacker Pass

*****

Dear Thanks,

First of all, just wanted to say, you know, Thanks!
Thanks for being there because without you
no one would express appreciation for anything,
well, there’s gratitude
but you’re so easy to say!

Yet it’s a wonder you’re not heard of much these days,
what with the attitude of entitlement,
theofascist (godless-corporate-state) pillaging,
and just plain rudeness.

You are one of my biggest life-lessons.
Once i cleared the slate and realized
that no one owed me anything,
not a thing,
not
a
single
thing--
then i truly learned how to be deeply thankful.

So again, just wanted to say, thank you, Thanks!

*****

HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN SACRED?

How do you slake the doggish-thirst
of a summer-parched tongue?

How do you describe Water
to a newborn child?

How do you explain Sacred
to a developer?
Colors to the blind?

How do you tell the inchworm
of the miles journeying
to the tops of the four Peaks?

How do you speak of indecision to the mountain lion
who feels the spirit of timeless aeons
in his very paws?

How do you explain Sacred
to a developer?

How do you explain Home
to a transient?

*****

The Land of Instant Gratification

In the land of instant gratification
the coffee is lousy, milk non-dairy,
the sex is ok but you can’t remember their names,
and the time is always right but no one remembers
who they are or what they’re there for.

And the distracted are mutely
sucking up the half-truths of up-to-the-second-news
like cotton candy addicts, like moths to the flame,
like couch-potatoes with sprouty-bulging eyes,
ears buzzing and swelling from
media-mosquito sound-bytes.

In the land of instant gratification
there is no steeped tea,
no small heroin dosage to slowly wean the addict,
no marinated for a week, no simmering pot,
no home grown, no put out on a log to dry,
no group consensus, no insight gleaned
from tireless contemplation,
no investigating the facts, the reality, motivations,
no gazing into the future,
and no one gives a heartfelt apology . . . .

In the land of instant gratification . . . . .
inner contentment
may be the only real
ticket home.

*****

YOU ARE NOT ALONE
(Song of Saul)

there is edible asparagus,
and crisp lettuce,
and thick, soft heads of broccoli,
and a strawberry dimpled and juicy,
and a sunrise you haven’t yet seen,
and tongue-and-groove pine walls varnished,
and the smiles of birds and dolphins,
and friends who are there
even when you can’t see them,
and the invisible aromas of flowers,
and roads lined with trees,
and dreams, and someone
you’ve always wanted to love,
and always a home
where you stand!

*****

Rivery: a contemplation

1
same ol’ same ol’
but you can’t step into the same river twice
have a nice day
protecting the space
the air you breathe,
the path your feet beat,
the water you aim to drink,
food you seek to eat

they say group-think is the answer
but what group and what are they thinking?
sunflowers think
goldfinches think
but when they meet
the way goldfinches perch
on the flowers and feed
is beyond thinking,
heart-space with gustatory bliss
sun’s gold rays
melting summer’s day of blues, greens,
summer evening’s orange glow
low in the trees

2
off the main st in a small town by the watery sound
there was no one under the arch
in the alleyway
where history was not made
next to an empty courtyard
where people met
and by the tones of their voices
you could tell
that something was being made
but it just wasn’t visible yet

3
waters moving
so you really can’t step into the same river twice
though the name and the place of the river
same ol’ same ol’

4
there’s a town with a river running through it
and a county with towns running through
a state with counties
yet the river runs
not stopping where the lines
on the maps
were drawn

5
on the way home
driving on the dry river
(alongside the river waters moving)
look, man, you can’t even drive on the same road twice
even if you know exactly where you’re going!

6
along this run of rivers
fish run, if they can,
rocks bathe, if they can,
children make skimming wishes, if they can
bigger children eat lunch drink juice talk,
if they can

above these rivers
soar goldfinches
and by the tones of their voices
you can tell
that something is being made
but it just isn’t visible yet

*****

Builders Of Light

in the evening --
when the day has run
like a stream
trickling off into dry ground --
a candle gets lit

day time —
like bees
we begin again
building honeycombs of light
such sweet, hard work
this making of ourselves
lit candles
alongside streams
that don’t ever run dry

*****

Year of the Dog - December, 2006

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
- Kahlil Gibran

In the Year of the Dog
the dandelion is still on the endangered list.

Salads and wines and simple eyes
look for these bright yellow suns.

How did a war on weedy flowers begin?
How did the bullshit artists commit pesticide
in suburbia then have the nerve to call it a day?

In the Year of the Dog, sadly, still side-effects:
mutated frogs, and lawns manicured to the sixteenth-
of-an-inch.

A simple, pliant green blade . . . an urbanite’s dream.

In the Year of the Dog
a heightened time for friendship and loyalty.
And there is still time to be my friend,
time for the kicking of beach-sand, and sniffing.
Two days before winter solstice
a dandelion blooms on the lawn!

In the Year of the Dog
the dandelions keep rising up
into a world of soil and sun-fire,
a world of air and wood and mica—
sweet dewdrops.

My friends, how we find each other
in such uneventful places—
how we carry on in spite of such odds,
how we reach for the air with homecoming.

*****

Performance Poet

No telling what he will do,
last night he brought a hen on stage
to lay an egg, at election time he escorted
an owl into the booth and the bird cast
a write-in vote for Mother Earth,
in his sleep (the poet, though it could be the owl too)
cries out: "The people united, will never be defeated!"

The performance poet carries a referee's whistle
around his neck in case of corruption he becomes,
like coffee, an instant whistleblower.

Meanwhile, a fight breaks out at a soccer match
not because the referee is missing his whistle
but because NATO has sent in an agent provocateur.

The poet likes to quote old movies, says sex is cinematically passé but when it comes to corruption,
"You just put your lips together and . . . blow."

A character, there's no telling what he will do,
like Sam Spade (but without the hat) he stands for justice,
knows too much to be seduced by any two-bit groupie.
Last night he held up a blank piece of paper in one hand,
balanced a glass of pure water on his head, and said,
"This is what enlightened anarchy looks like."

*****

Sun Song

Wouldn’t you want me at daybreak
all up into your sky, your hair,
a firecrackered twilight still sparkling in our minds
bells on my moccasins walking like an Egyptian
the taste of every birdsong on my tongue

whether you want it or not, Sun song
whether you seek it or try to avoid it, Sun song.
Nighttime is ungraspable

and so is this ball of fire
but if you let the rays touch your skin

“you are the One, the only One”

*****