SORROW, MAGIC, HUNTING AND GATHERING

HUNT, GATHER
by Don Brennan.

as the ancestors gathered
nourishment from the Savannah
we embrace psychosis

this surrounding madness
arms outstretched
gather it

help one another pack it
back to the condo
wire it in, hard-drive it

God so loved the world
arms outstretched
against His tree

We so love the world
that confines, cages
imprisons Our children

butchers them
arms at odd angles
akimbo, bulleted

sainted ones continue
filling bassinets
see their little

faces in the strollers
rolling around the globe
protected by mothers
fathers

we can teach the babies
war, drunkenness
rape

our accumulated
psychoses
lie in wait

or we can hunt
and gather
ourselves

teach the babies
love.


SORROWS 7/15/07
by Don Brennan

sorrows rising on the horizon
a dawn of limited
visibility

don’t need it now, yet
up they come
cold, indifferent

prow of a mystery ship
churning the sea

trailing a wake away from
you and me

plowing the waters

all that power
in our direction

careless as a belligerent
innocent

if sorrow had eyes, they’d be
empty

but the course is set
no need to see

no need for us to
back away

running in sand
plowed up to
our feet

lay us out
crush us up the middle

what do sorrows weigh
but a ton a foot

a hundred ton
football field

high enough
to obliterate sky

furrowing our
chest

saw it coming
toss them aside

still able, ourselves
to rise.



MAGIC AND MIND
by Don Brennan (7/18/07)

reason, a sparrow
on a fly by

magic crawls away
in panic

a startled caterpillar
bird wing shadows

a hundred legs scrambling
no peace in Nature

a belly hungry for
caterpillar meat

looking to swoop
peck, taste

swallow the larva
disrupt metamorphosis

solve the mystery
the problem

burp, digest
the flesh

poop, then fly
away

try to catch
the butterfly

LANGSTON HUGHES

SOME WHERE HE SAID, "Life ain't no crystal stair..."
and in THE PO' BOY BLUES, Hughes finished with,

"Weary, weary,

Weary early in de morn.

Weary, weary,

Early, early in de morn.

I's so weary

I wish I'd never been born"


BUT THEN THE MAN WROTE "LIFE IS FINE"
like this:

"So since I'm still here livin',

I guess I will live on.

I could've died for love--

But for livin' I was born"

FOR LANGSTON HUGHES, POET OF
RAGE AND HOPE:

HOPE SHOUTS
by Don Brennan

When we find it difficult
to move with the beat of the heart
because the heart is moving
to more frantic rhythms

We often curl around ourselves
yearn to return
to feel the mother’s belly
from inside, return

To the depths of the sea
to life before birth
to death before life

Believing hope is lost, we
cannot feel her calling us
as we run from societal madness

As we dream that violence
has found its
way inside our ribs

Discovered us sleeping
defenseless, as in a nursery

Has decided to feast on us,
chew the heart,
taste us with
drooling lips

We run into night
screaming
believing we are doomed

Not seeing that our
doom-dream is
hope shouting at us to
wake up, calling out
to us who have forgotten

Hope is the deity
of time, she has all
that we need.

Hughes, a literary genius, lived his life as a second class citizen in his home country. He advises us all with a few simple lines: WHEN DREAMS DIE
by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

DYING DREAMS
by Don Brennan

If your dreams should ever die
you may meet their ghosts
coming back to taunt you,
haunt your sleep, it's what
ghosts do.

They mean to shake you
awake from that fearful corner
of your brain, where crushed
dreams are forced into windowless
seclusion, to struggle like terminal
asthmatics for air, raging desperadoes
seeking light.

Hope summons the strength to
scream at you from that tortured
corner in the voices of a multitude
of lunatics chained to walls, refusing
to let you rest in the underground
of dead dreams.

No, you must rouse yourself and sing
with the power of Orpheus among the
phantoms; persuade the guardians of Hell
by your song, convince them by your love
to release the dead to your care.

To prevent hope's silencing, hope's
vanishing, you must guide the dead souls
back to life.

Oscar & Raphael

POEM:

Say Hello
to my little friends...

Raphael
upside down on the left

and Oscar

twin grandsons

two more reasons to
reduce carbon emissions

create a sustainable
human environment
on Earth

eliminate poverty
and war

stop all the violence
right away

free global health care

free education

for everyone

share all the
wealth

right away

too late is too late

there's not much time

they're growing fast.

Don & Oona

Hi, Introducing my granddaughter, Oona Grace Brennan. Poem for Oona:

GRACE
by Don Brennan

So much affection
ensnared me
a smile is all I needed
to see
a laugh was all she
needed from me
her comedy, my delight

Some luck, yes!
call it grace
something had fallen on me
a sea spray on a
hot day
caressing my face

By grace
beauty falls
softly as our need
drifting on us
down from
clean places
outside desire

The way rain and
snow touch the Earth’s
fragile face
when she is new

When she needs them to.
Grace speaks by singing
In a whispering
voice from inside

Enchantment moves
by rocking it
dancing close
rock it, Baby
hand at the middle
of your back

We, the earth, able to hear
to feel affection in the weather
rain drumming
sun steaming

Behind a beat dancing
singing to us

Able to feel
affection moving
in one another

By grace our universe
moves us
in our own dance

Our forever, ongoing
love song
so familiar

listen.

ROSES, IRIS, TULIPS

Aura

POETRY WORKS
Chap book Sales and Exchange
Don Brennan

NEW POEM:

ROSES, IRIS, TULIPS(for my wife, Aura)
by Don Brennan

roses, iris, tulips speak purple

lower their voices
to a deep red whispering

a private conversation
in the damp grass

certain yellow flowers
known as weeds
begin a wind song

we are brought back
to lives of struggle, of

keeping on, of taking up
ourselves again
in wordless places

how shall we allow the wind
to sing our songs

to speak to one another
in displays of color

as though our thoughts
were petals

connected to roots by
green stems

how to release pollen and
leaves into the
musical air

that is our unmarked question
for roses, iris, tulips

in their purple season, dropped
to deep red whispering

the way that flowers speak
and seeds spring airborne

in concert with insects
and birds and rattling winds

as if our thoughts were petals
and our roots a tangle of

garden spirits
beneath the damp grass

us leaning over
engaged in ancestral
conversation, our
faces to the sun.

The following chap book titles are currently available:
For more information email brennan.don@gmail.com

Try Those Shoes (Poems by Don Brennan), 2006, 48 pages, $5.00
Excerpt: Let Me Fly(pg. 5)

whenever you can/Old World/just let me fly...don't send us to Heaven...please keep us here/around you/part of the fire and smoke/energy and love cycle/until you die yourself/and fly off to Planet Heaven...

Prelude To Uncertainty (Poems by Don Brennan), 2007, 44 pages, $5.00
Excerpt: Word Of Mouth(pg. 35)

The way his jaw swings/somebody could hang it on a porch/spend summer evenings waving to passers by/...eagle with a broken jaw needing heroin now/more than all the oil leaking out of the Euro into/golden bathtubs of Dubai, and looka there, Dubya/and Condi fluffing one another with baby powder/about to give birth to twins...

SEASONAL WORK (poems by Don Brennan), 2006, 48 pages, $5.00
Excerpt: DETOUR pg. 24

For a creature locked out of a cafe, motivation is of
course irrelevant, as are doubts, self or otherwise...

it's not a question of departure. We need
shelter, the canine and I, a place to feel safe
before it's too late...

Leavenworth Poets Summit V (Edited by Don Brennan) 2007, 42 pages, $5.00 donation to Central City Hospitality House.
Excerpt: Live Concert In The Tenderloin by Charles Curtis Blackwell(pg. 5)

A pigeon does that strut thing/Marco Polo traveler/S.F. beat...This brother brings the stereo tuned to a jazz station/To this concrete park with rod iron fence/freedom in the park/Catching the sound there of the/Pause, stand, listen/In the middle of hardcore deprivation...

TRACKS: Leavenworth Street Anthology (Edited by Don Brennan) 2007, 39 pages, $5.00
donation to Central City Hospitality House.

Excerpt: A Kind Of Death by Marsha Campbell (pg. 27)

We confine ourselves to a small room.
The small room of your mind.

Heavy curtains close in on us
and there is no light.

Your speaking voice was gathered
by the dust of the night.

Listening became a chore
until I could touch you no more.

I begged for you to open up the door.

Please send cash, check or money order (plus $1 for shipping by regular mail) to:

Don Brennan Chapbooks
2959 26th Street
San Francisco, CA
94110.

AND YET TO WEEP, TO WONDER

POETRY WORKS
Chap book Sales and Exchange
Don Brennan

NEW POEM:

TO WEEP, TO WONDER
by Don Brennan

tragic innocents accustomed to time’s howling winds
love’s invincibility, the sun’s nucleus
distances that feel like dreaming

white noise drifts away
with thought
we see for ourselves
what is truer than war, than poverty

kindness, innocence

all the mind
is able to perceive
distinguishing destiny
from the many ugly
faces of slavery
from delusion

rape and pedophilia are
inconceivable
murder ceases to exist
truth that is beauty is
all we wish to know…

to weep, to wonder
empire drenched streets
the philosopher’s
yearning, eternal return


The following chap book titles are currently available:
For more information email brennan.don@gmail.com

Try Those Shoes (Poems by Don Brennan), 2006, 48 pages, $5.00
Excerpt: Let Me Fly(pg. 5)

whenever you can/Old World/just let me fly...don't send us to Heaven...please keep us here/around you/part of the fire and smoke/energy and love cycle/until you die yourself/and fly off to Planet Heaven...

Prelude To Uncertainty (Poems by Don Brennan), 2007, 44 pages, $5.00
Excerpt: Word Of Mouth(pg. 35)

The way his jaw swings/somebody could hang it on a porch/spend summer evenings waving to passers by/...eagle with a broken jaw needing heroin now/more than all the oil leaking out of the Euro into/golden bathtubs of Dubai, and looka there, Dubya/and Condi fluffing one another with baby powder/about to give birth to twins...

SEASONAL WORK (poems by Don Brennan), 2006, 48 pages, $5.00
Excerpt: DETOUR pg. 24

For a creature locked out of a cafe, motivation is of
course irrelevant, as are doubts, self or otherwise...

it's not a question of departure. We need
shelter, the canine and I, a place to feel safe
before it's too late...

Leavenworth Poets Summit V (Edited by Don Brennan) 2007, 42 pages, $5.00 donation to Central City Hospitality House.
Excerpt: Live Concert In The Tenderloin by Charles Curtis Blackwell(pg. 5)

A pigeon does that strut thing/Marco Polo traveler/S.F. beat...This brother brings the stereo tuned to a jazz station/To this concrete park with rod iron fence/freedom in the park/Catching the sound there of the/Pause, stand, listen/In the middle of hardcore deprivation...

TRACKS: Leavenworth Street Anthology (Edited by Don Brennan) 2007, 39 pages, $5.00 donation to Central City Hospitality House.
Excerpt: A Kind Of Death by Marsha Campbell (pg. 27)

We confine ourselves to a small room.
The small room of your mind.

Heavy curtains close in on us
and there is no light.

Your speaking voice was gathered
by the dust of the night.

Listening became a chore
until I could touch you no more.

I begged for you to open up the door.

Please send cash, check or money order (plus $1 for shipping by regular mail) to:

Don Brennan Chapbooks
2959 26th Street
San Francisco, CA
94110.

Raindown Shuffle

From chapbook, PRELUDE TO CERTAINTY, PG. 28:

RAIN DOWN SHUFFLE by don brennan

When the rains lose us in afternoon magic
stippling window glass, sending birds to shuffle
among leaves and think

Time takes on a semblance of relaxation
pulling on leg warmers
fur lined slippers
suggesting that we boil water for tea

Sip with rain down hours
bring peace into focus
swirl unspoiled anxieties in the bottom
of china mugs, chiding our distresses

dazzle the heart's need for mercy
when the rains find us at our
window panes

An evergreen mystery
muted and bowing heavily in our
presence, as though we were idols
and the glistening citrus against a
gray sky our misguided worshipers.