4fp 4 in 1: Book Nine: Don Kingfisher Campbell "Galactic Journey"

01 > Diary of a Single Diurnal

02 > I am a collection of movements

03 > Soar

04 > I Dream

05 > Do you sigh when you eat your pie?

06 > March 11

07 > 60

08 > 60

09 > Existential Ekphrastic

10 > The Three Paths

11 > Two pretty purple flowers

12 > Vanilla Ice Cream

13 > Two-Dimensional Ghost Octopus

14 > Galactic Journey

15 > I got the slightest taste of Gaza

16 > Those Who Lived Before

17 > Excavation

18 > Morning

19 > (in the variable light)

20 > Micro Costcos

21 > Aliens Observe

01 > Diary of a Single Diurnal

Woke up to nightlight darkness

Took a walk to re-deliver newspapers

Saw a nearly full moon outscaried

By an arching three faced house

My beloved cooked our breakfast

The usual broccoli and cheese omelet

Accompanied by a microwaved hot

Bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with raisins

She's been catching a morning ride

Most days lately to make a bunch of cash

Cleaning bathrooms around Los Angeles

So her daughter can afford college better

Tried to watch a movie on my 40" but

Helped a calling poet write a play instead

Wife got home from domestic work early

Warmed noodles in tomatoes and salsa

We both noticed the Trader Joe's orchid

Had a spotted bud slowly cracking open

To reveal that purple on white pattern

They all looked like a bevy of butterflies

I stepped outside to check the mailbox

Awed at calla lilies gracefully unfurling

Had to photograph each one like dancers

Their individual swirling soft as ice cream

After a warm afternoon induced nap

Drove to mail anthologies for a subscriber

Didn't want to stay home right away

Kidnapped my wife to the nearby Costco

Felt compelled to capture birds making

Notes perched on intersection power lines

And a circular red light atop a switch box

Cast a shiny smiling translucent shadow

Bought beef laden rib bones for her

To split with the landlord and for me

Prebiotic soda to wash down dinner

Of boiled shrimp and corn dumplings

Before we voluntarily spent four hours

Without power as the rooms darkened

We went to bed early and no surprise

Ended up interlocking naked passion

Redressed to while away more minutes

Side by side looking at cellphones

Catching up on the electronic social

World beyond our rectangular hideout

Now the idea for the poem comes as

I sit on the two-a.m. toilet to remember

A day I wanted to never forget, may these

Lines hopefully outlast my retirement

02 > I am a collection of movements

I awaken to color filled sunrises

from my bedroom window makes me

want to walk outside and watch

such reliable cosmic paintings

later paired with evening sunsets

as evidence we rotate around always

I like to visit clouds from a distance

capture fleeting shapes which constantly

evolve inside my imagining cauliflower

mind seemingly projecting earthbound

objects so ephemeral they pass my eyes

in and out of observable moments

I also cherish budding flowers

symbols of my ever growing

passions for beauty and truth

I watch them sprout and wither

compare their lives to hours

becoming frond memories

I love to hug my endearing wife

her curves wrapped by my arms

embracing warmth as long as

I can hold onto her words

reach for the pleasure of feeling

loved through every diurnal

I relish the meals she creates

for our continued healthy

get up and go out into society

which exists with and without

a couple's wanderings about

acquiring tastes and possessions

I notice when we door depart

the extensive reworking of nature

via humans who found necessary

transference of what is already here

recalibrating earth and minerals as

eventually crumbling manuments

I am influenced whenever I experience

artwork brought into being contemplated

examples proliferating sparked ideas

formed within synapses that syncopated

seen then placed in worshipable temples

I must investigate regularly for inspiration

Can't forget hearing music's resonant

power deep in my grooving body as

rhythm repeated and notes reinvented

alongside lyrics together work much

like sound rivers punctuated flow of

beloved noises that hit my happy chords

Even bouncing a basketball whether played

or just watched excites my inner gyro

traveling down rectangular paths to the goal

of making baskets of success achievable

to celebrate the gifted physicality of board

connected to hoop and squeaking shoes

I look forward to leaving this road map

unscrolling lines of beating heart poetry

for interested souls to actively ponder

and emulate my gaze at moving wonder

inhaling and exhaling all these senses

I intake and regurgitate as existence

03 > Soar

A rose

needs

a hummingbird

for

a piece

of it

to fly

This boy

needed

a basketball

and a hoop

to do the

same thing

on asphalt

Now I

write

just to feel

like I'm

in the blue

above

clouds

04 > I Dream

I'm peeking out at the sliver of light

Visible because the crimson blanket

Draped over the standard rectangle

On the side of our backroom bedroom

Tries to cover a narrow concrete alleyway

Where the sound of a passing animal

Skittering across the makeshift fence

Of stacked green plastic panels which lie

Onto chain link usually standing firm to

The miniscule weight of a squirrel or cat

But on this still overcast Friday morning

I see in the long finger of brightness

A horrific sight a cylindrical object

Rumbles by in the low hazy gray sky

As if being towed by armored tank

I hear a shattering explosion not far

Away how can this be I am in America

I shrink back pulling my blanket closer

And listen for another heavy blast on

What should be an air of Pacific cool

I believe I'm in a war zone unsettled

The click of the clock radio wakes me

To caffeine fueled banter of two hosts

I am relieved it was only a chimera yet

Disturbed that somewhere in the world

This is someone's reality every day

05 > Do you sigh when you eat your pie?

Do you cry when you are going to fly?

Do you wash your hands and not ask why?

Do you wish your heart will never die?

Do you watch the stars at night so high?

Do you regret what it is you cannot buy?

Do you prefer your pastrami on rye?

Do you lift your eyes before you lie?

Do you carefully choose the words you ply?

Do you feel the end of this poem is nigh?

It is not yours it is my, so I beseech you try.

06 > March 11

It’s my half

brother’s 75th birthday

I used to try to imitate

his Precious Pup laugh

I enjoyed having sex

with my wife beside

his rectangular backyard pool

but that was over 40 years ago

when he went to the market

Haven’t seen him since

our uncle’s funeral

That was my college

lover’s birthday too

She said I was her boyfriend

number 28

Later on I joked

I used to date

Kate Bush

And today

my coupon

for $2 off

a Jumbo Jack combo

expired

unused

07 > 60

when I was a baby

60 was my first full year

of life in North Hollywood

then my family moved to

Monterey Park where I collected

more than 60 Hot Wheels

as a teenager I reveled in 60

minute music shows on my

portable bedroom black and white

becoming an adult I discovered

the joy of 60 little flowers in a

bush that looked like popcorn

now that I am over 60 I appreciate

being able to drive the 60 freeway

for 60 cent tacos on Thursday night

I lie in bed and wonder if I have

60 more days or 60 more months or

60 more years to breathe the rest in

08 > 60

Hot Wheels in a case

records next to a speaker

cassettes on a shelf

CDs in a binder

books in a milk carton

tee shirts hanging in a closet

sock pairs inside a drawer

photos stored in my cell

vitamins in a bottle

dishes in a cupboard

cars parked curbside

flowers in a bush

driveway ants in a line

09 > Existential Ekphrastic

Tumbling triangles

In my blood red head

Don't know if I wish

I was alive or dead

Traffic goes by me

All around my body

Concrete paves us

For a love of money

Fuzzy reception here

I feel I'm just alone

Words seem to linger

Leaving a tombstone

Maybe knowing you

Read them is enough

Gives a lasting sense

Of accomplished chuff

This picture will cease

Then the disappearing

What's coming so dark

Another galaxy clearing

An eternity of oblivion

Yet everything existed

A history simply unseen

Can't ever be revisited

10 > The Three Paths

Heaven is being

able to float high

like angel wings

into sky and fly

over land and land

in soil to evaporate

and ascend again

Purgatory is rock

moving in place

eventually takes

a tumble to learn

whether one ends

up as soil or sand

to grow or wait

For hell is just as

seemingly eternal

waiting for a force

to shake soil hard

all the way to ocean

rise up through air

for a chance to soar

11 > Two pretty purple flowers

One above the other

In a bed of green leaves

Bordered by a concrete curb

Adjacent to an asphalt driveway

Taking in the warm sun

I love to hear my wife

Pronounce the title of this poem

12 > Vanilla Ice Cream

Striated with fudge

In a clear plastic cup

I use a stainless-steel spoon

To scoop it out and in

My mouth which smiles

13 > Two-Dimensional Ghost Octopus

Two circular eyes on top of its head

Look across the air of midnight

Big red mouth agape at its tendrils

Which act like ethereal arms and legs

Feeling for a concrete substance

In a painted square universe

Trapped for several weeks or months

Until somebody paints it over

And it will be gone forever unless

An artist returns and reincarnates

14 > Galactic Journey

If I could take a train to the stars

And leave behind tree and tracks

I’d float in the dark matter until

I would reach another home planet

Descend and start again on terra

Firma in my love of light and shadow

The air filling the night and day

Not far ahead where I can walk

Back to earth and lay my self

Down on the ground to gaze up

At the systems I have been and will be

In seeming perpetuity of born and form

15 > I got the slightest taste of Gaza

When the roofers came

Walked on my roof

Tore off the old shingles

Hammered in new plywood boards

The next day they returned

Laid down insulation

And proceeded to plug in

The portable air pressure gun

Shot rows of nails into each tile

The noise was like a barrage

Of bullets being fired with

The occasional heavy clunk

Placing more ammo above

I felt assaulted and ran

Outside to escape the war

In my Cube parked at the curb

Unlike the people trapped

In an unrecognized country

Without permission to leave

Denied food and supplies

For uncountable months

16 > Those Who Lived Before

left behind

cave paintings

arranged stones

pointing pyramids

rock calendars

grass etchings

carved hieroglyphs

entombed mummies

standing statues

city buildings

vehicular rockets

compared to

the cosmos

circular bodies

float on

empty space

17 > Excavation

As my sister prepares

to sell the old family

house, she opens

dusty cardboard

boxes from the garage

to bring back to the air

never used handbags

still sporting tags, wrapped

in clear cell-o-phane

Next come the closets

packed with hanging

mu-mu's from the 80's

on wood hangers, easier

to carry a dead widow's

possessions to a trunk

to haul to a swap

meet where price is

below age in years

Only the backyard

interests me, the dirt-

filled corner we unearth

to find childhood

artifacts buried for

decades after I left

to play full-scale

games of cars, dolls,

and brick houses

18 > Morning

another bulky SUV

noisily speeds over

the peaceful street

past valuable houses

in this desirable city

the driver swerves

and negotiates curves

to reach workplace

to earn the wherewithal

to purchase hundreds

of dollars of wardrobe

and comestibles and

thousands for televisions

refrigerators and washers

not to mention to

maintain the mortgage

replace vehicles as needed

until the moment arrives

when heart or digestion end

pass down the possessions

so that all that is left

is left behind for ceremony

that the no longer busy

material human shell

can rest in pieces

19 > (in the variable light)

all

those

slaps

cries

suckles

poops

baths

changes

smiles

laughs

crawls

walks

words

lessons

desires

parties

drinks

songs

dances

movies

snacks

trips

loves

restaurants

unions

showers

marriages

workloads

meals

washes

snoozes

thoughts

reflections

worries

illnesses

visits

injections

stitches

moans

breaths

forgotten

nothingness

(inside bulb switched off)

20 > Micro Costcos

"Silly human race."

-- Jon Anderson

steer your SUV

around other SUVs

parked in aisles waiting

for a space to open

unless you are in the great

snaking line where people's

cars line up to be filled

with processed dinosaurs

push your shopping

cart around other pushers

who do not wish to be

delayed by your presence

wait in the very small

micro queue of humans

with hands ready to nab

samples of some food

navigate your loaded

rolling basket into the faster

of two lanes for shoplifting

inspection before exit

speed your exiting

vehicle around others

as you attempt to reach

red lights first and in front

21 > Aliens Observe

stupid humans

thinking they are superior

because of the color of their skin