The year turns away

This is a picture from yesterday's walk. Today the sky was pure blue

and without a single cloud. I didn't take any pictures. The dog pulls ahead 

and I go with her, but you can see S coming along near the end of the sidewalk.

He's wearing blue, like the sky.

THE YEAR TURNS AWAY FROM ME

The year turns away from me.

I'm here,

on the other side of the hill,

where winds are flames,

blue wings in the meadow.

Tall steeples of ashes

diminish at the meadow's edge.

And far down the hillside

a deep chorus of boulders

is singing the pebbles awake.

Morton Marcus

The Santa Cruz Mountain Poems,

Capra Press, Santa Barbara, 1972, unpaginated.

I was reminded of this book by reading Speaking Through the Masks (Capitola Books, 2008) by Morton Marcus in which he assembles writings about a vast crew of characters in the Northern California Poetry Scene I knew in the 1980s (and before and after.) It is a wonderfully interesting book and seems to be very honest and fair to the topics and people he discusses. So I had to get myself other copies of some of his books I already had in California. This copy of the Santa Cruz Mountain Poems happens to be the first edition, different from the one I already had, so I can see the drawings reproduced in brown ink and the interesting cream colored paper. The account in Masks of the creation of this book --from many small,  nature-inspired writings that he had been making because of his love of the land -- is inspirational and very pleasing.

His account of Al Young, another Bay Area poet (who is blessedly alive and posting on Facebook!) is measured, affectionate and steady. I'll be returning here to things Marcus reminded me of.