The Great Rotation

A poem behind my paintings.

A small audience for this.

Please write to me if you are interested.

The Great Rotation, New Edit, July 2016 Pages 1-10

The Great Rotation

1

the blue and green, 

revolving

changing shape,

spinning

the black 

lagoon and stars, 

road, ahead 

of new beginning

spiraling, behind 

in the negative

turning, and the nothing 

that was, 

out of Crispin self

that sea

revolving 

tumbling figure, through reeds

The GreaT RotaTioN,

the myth

of the leaves 

SPace from distance, 

to ClaP oF HandS

diamonded or striped 

handprint

or shard 

that Achilles was there

to—, stop!

Seen in the light, glancing, 

height

from leaf fallen, dance

into flash

each year— day

round, moment

CrisPiN Mind.

puzzle piece

the idea, arriving

shapes 

passing,

 in elliptic

flung notion

around the sun

shadow

shading

stripped down shape, 

line and color

target 

Achilles fancied,

death

whispering—

OH! Thou Orb, 

Aloft!

his vital force 

to keep—

Sunflower self

Song along the road,

the order— found strewn

revolving through,

green

and sky 

and blue remembered hill

over and around, 

the swirl, 

in nebulae 

sacred pause

and second thought

that tree at the center

the blank in the eye

seeing, 

the forest, 

himself

burning forest fire dead bark beetle woods

HE WAS REACHING ACROss AmericA

American Pilgrim, 

PoP PilGriM

some PoP, EpiC pOp—

The MorninG 

always came incredibly

the order, 

spinning into poetry

landscape rolling

Jack hoped he’d never tire of those clouds 

ReducE and RadicalizE,

JumPing OuT.

imaginative height—

a history of jumps

that bush, to mountain, 

the crickets

Crispin warned off—

death 

was in each moment 

passing

in the leaf falling yellow 

there was irony enough 

tearing at hope,

come around 

the green rolling planet

CeRuLean shape,

the fear, the fear

gobbling him up 

the bottles spilling, breaking 

slow motion

He—RO, Ho!

through flowers, 

the IndiaN GlinT

turning and returning

cyclical revolutions

rotations 

of day and night, 

going round

and round

hatched marks

into stars and dreams 

same bare feet 

kicking, suspended 

over smooth flowing 

water reverie 

space, the distance

head over heels

the RealitY, ShieLd

chugging along, horizonal

lonesome road

stumble bum 

sage and boney words

He HO! Ro    

wave after wave

out there

tail flickering—

feathered friend leading

bright speckled thing

wriggling

the luxuriant 

dripping green

August leaves rushing 

escape from that linear

jump into 

thrown across the floor

the Hero’s head, 

HooBLA Hoo— Ru

it all went round

tumbling childlike

made it all up, 

Jack’s GReeN home

the monster’s mouth

FlOWeR MountAin

the serpent and flower 

seething in the grass

the waves

written over 

and then again

snaking river

flags, waving

World Mountain 

alive, to Crispin

though Jack would rush 

to see each day,

were still— alive—

quiet, spot of a revolving Earth

breathing in

breathing 

 the flower

an imagination 

lifts his all too human arms 

in the attitude of prayer,

in awe

a Sublime

ONE

swallow winging in blue

chirp

tree surging, 

upward and around,

one who sees this

“No saben el camino”

consuming chaos 

not yet hardened —

only in passing

breathing in and out

day lilly, one each day 

  each a big bang and

A Flower.

the moon the stars dissolve

breathing Crispin

hero Achilles

Jack wondering

WalkinG STICK AFLAME

HAT OF SOLAR CONSEQUENCE

SHOES OF QUICKENING POWER

WALKING IN REALITY 

sensing a shape 

that removed her to the stars, 

Nodded in that way,

in the gentle wind