A VERY NARROW PATH
-for Hannah & Olympia

“Of what can a man be proud, if he is not proud of his friends.”
-Stevenson.

The bees do
love the yellow
flowered thistle that
so like sudden scorpion
bites my calves as
I meander alongside The
Lindo creek its
every rock dry
dry
dry as I am
up and down the creek as
far as I could see
not a drop of water-

THAT’S THE EXTENT OF MY KNOWN ABOUT ANYTHING: “SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”

“The stony Shallow Stream
So pure that even the moon
seeks it out to dwell in it.”
-Chomei.

With this dry poverty
stricken well
deserved loneliness
with this heavy
nevertheless
very next future
exists a fifth of
gin and a tall
can of beer and a
consolation prize of slight drunkenness and a word of
God
every which way
but to be found
but to be written as a trace
with summer morning
everywhichway
breeze

Ray Foster
6/25/94

PALETTE BEGINNING 13TH
(April, Nineteenninetythree.)

ecrue. my favorite; like coffee bean sacks;
like muslin, like cotton cloth with seeds;
unbleached.

White. bright; wild; disconcert. Erasent;
absolute. ( To be brightest:
titanium.)

black. abyss; ivory or ebony: hard,
shiny; bone or half: charcoal or
profound grey.

grey. every fertile void; becoming
but who knows what; pain;

the unimagined with hope.
red. how heartwarming in this
cold, cruel world: all the
myriad colors of red; cadmium

for
fiery breaks of further growing
boundless; earthen red like
indian or cinnebar.

blue. the bluebird of happiness; or
sad like deep indigo; or
bruised flesh like a black eye;
inevitably the truth of water
or sky.

yellow.cadmium: brilliant;
a burst like white; earthen
warmth of Naples yellow;
or more earthen yet like
Sienna.

brown. a promise like caress;
ground;soil;becoming like
grey becomes above, brown
becomes below.

then. there will always be:

purple. growing old in beauty or
orange forever smiling O.K.
violet; pink; chartreuse;
rose, clear like grenache or
opaque like madder, but
those roses are merely more
throws of red; sepia(but
another ecrue); turquoise
(but a smile of blue); green!
where would we be without
green? set; trees, bushes, I
know a chicken who lays
green eggs; bugs ( better green
to be hiding amongst leaves);
no matter what extreme (to
be on both extremities simultaneously)
reach or jump, there is yet
another ungraspable color-

Ray Foster, San Jose, California.

A MINOR
( “- the soothing key. “)
-for Mom and
Gramma

I pray for togetherness

I must put all the energies;
compassions; creativeness;
ingenuities; feelings-feelings
for ensemble , feelings for where
I hurt others, for where I
thrust too hard, to fast; call
up all my enthusiasms,
exhuberances; call up all
my love

I praise the sun

its warmth making the
world so much more fun,
adding colorful flowers,
play, new energies, new
growth got body, food-
inculcating, germinating
re creating

the rain
its cleansing, nourishing
the wind
its spreading seeds
the earth
to its desert centers
the water
to its ocean centers

the aloneness
source of all creativity
the cold
sets sugar; brings people
together; reestablishes priorities

this is incomplete as I am
incomplete as i always will be incomplete- except dead
-there, it might be where there is nothing more to be lost; it
might be freedom; it might be
beauty, it might be complete

it sports* a changing countenance
as I do. as I keys,
prayers and praise
as I do
living
live
sport here refers to
the phenomenon like a field of red poppies,
on of precisely the same kind, for no reason
flowers white.
Ray Foster
San Jose 4/20/80.

the social touch

procreating; music;
a poetic word, paintings, all
our human animal arts and
science; a pleasant interchange, or word-to the wise to drive out
the lethargy or stimulate or
aye! finally to inspire
the changing sky
sheltering
earthly creatures, opening
eyes, hearts

MIDNIGHT TRACKS
-for the WEDDING
of DAVID and HANNAH

(could you show to Olympia and Emmanuella & maybe get a copy to me: each reading makes me think it is more & more important).

MIDNIGHT TRACKS

“A MEZZANOTE” DICE TOTO. SOLO.

Lightnings
Striations
bougainvilla red
rosey red pink
butterfly orange
but edged with a blinking black

strips
of
thinking
dry
sighted
unseen
social
agape
nevertheless
see
everywhichway breezes
see
from, to and at,
noon through
see
our
whistle
(like a full moon
rolls over some
cemetary
sweat)
pass
tinkling
unmetaphoric machine
continno e
bubble
its standstill
aburst
my thirst
from desert
to dessert
its tracks
through the impregnable
its tracks
through
hold within these warm
cuts


\

13TH FRIDAY.PRECISELY 2:19
-A BALMY AFTERNOON

open
eyed
caffeine desire
tracks
aburst
sedentary
glued
solitude

stolen
time,
a hooky
of being
of time outside
of precisely
obligation
needed strings
needed bridges
wanted
unwindings
wanted
reward
embraced
between
deserts
and
just
desserts
solid sun rays
spiral
high and wide
shoulders
sore and stiff
nape
stimulant and aye! -inspiration
a
sky
unbounded


{Clarence, who was killed by a train as a young man.}

MAY OUR TRACKS CROSS IN HAPPINESS
passion flower
in folded paper
short eyelashes
are these the same butterflies
as the same ocean water
beats on its own
beach

as august
a principle
vulgar
ripe
with juice
later
seeds
thistles
aburst
in big BBQ pits
and the benches
to the tables
bleached and warped

IF I DONT HAVE SOME UNCONSCIOUS
KNACK TO CONTINUE TO EXIST
THEN I’LL SIMPLY DIE: THERE
IS NOTHIN’ CONSCIOUS THAT I
CAN DO ABOUT THAT

stolen
frayed
spire
my ray
beams
contrapuntal
to our morning stars
his
gives us our
hot and furious
nose
to

WHERE ARE THE CLOWNS?

after
the
forty
thousandth
try:
what do you think
I’m made of
beams?

I AM TOLD “ WHY DO YOU WORRY? YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE.”
fenced
by
flight
a foot
full
of
breath
ragged
but
nevertheless
leaping

3.
AN UNCONSCIOUS DISCONCERTED BUT ALMOST CONSTANT RETURN TO THE THEME -(- SUBTITLE TO SECOND PART OF ROSE)

lawn
chair
I sleep on
inside tin shed
lawn
chair
(its twin)
i write on
outside on lawn
no cloud
an infinitesmal
fraction
of
a
breeze
a cloud
of flies
buzz by
nevertheless
still plan
to walk lumps
the little old
dachsund
through the old
abandoned Seuter Creek Park

upper
lip with beads of sweat

I CHANGE. I KEEP GROWING
MORE LIKE MYSELF

upper
lip catches more the breeze
nape
resists
writing
position
breeze
quickens
my quick
of
shadow
of my propellers
slow
my quick
and striated
nevertheless

Ray Foster
San Jose, Calif.

Gracias to everyone for participating; thanks for your spirit.

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