jopomojo

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early morning flight path

descends to montreal

as the sun's ascension

presses pink and orange

up against the wind wall

of the cold-sky river

flight attendants secure

the cabin for landing

as the bare limbs of night

prepare for the morning

and the winter begins

to succumb to the spring

sunrise vomiting love

in violent beauty

as the morning gives birth

in purple majesty

to the golden-splayed day

and the burden of light

in solidarity

and relief the music

of the river and sky

and the thawing of the

long-frozen ground combine

to make a dancing rise

up from the roots in time

for me to join despite

the windchill undeceiving

me of my of my urge to bare

my skin to the burning

of a molten skyline

retreating to the car

to await the breaking

there next to the bridges

with the planet's turning

the sun the sun the sun

burning with all its might

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up again to greet

the post-traumatic

gray katrina hangover

of a new orleans catfish 

lenten-fast friday

mississippi dawn

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fingernail moon

rising ahead

of the sunrise

above a palm

palm trees standing

in ecstasy

perpetual

for the sunrise

riverboat waits

for coffee at

sunrise and booze

when the sun sets

mississippi

river sunrise

music echoes

big easy dreams

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From the end of Canal Street,

looking across

The river to Algiers and McDonogh

and Whitney,

I ponder the sun's gain and loss,

And whether the weather will suddenly

hit me

With sheets of rain and fists of wind

Like Monday evening when we rode

in a jitney

Through flash-flooded streets where we

grimaced and grinned

At the faces of folks who were fleeing

for cover

Or wading through puddles, clothes soaked

or bare-skinned,

As thunder and lightning made good

to deliver

More buckets and barrels and tubs

of rains

From voodoo tricksters in the sky where

they hover

Invisibly, risibly, dancing the pains

Away with the torrents flowing in streams

And spouting like fountains up from

the drains

Until the night came down with its

dreams,

A blanket of gray hiding the stars,

And a new moon with clouds shrouding

its beams

Until Canal Street woke up and streetcars

Began to travel their ancient tracks

And workers began to clean the bars

Of Bourbon street, the trash in sacks,

The sun not seen. But now, a day later,

The dawn is getting through these cracks

To smile like a grinning alligator

Or like a gold-toothed voodoo boss

Or a crazy sunrise poem creator.

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streetcars of desire

bringing the sunrise

after a night of flash floods

magician mississippi

continues its sleight

of hand to the gulf

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nullification

of the rising sun

in jackson square by the fog

nonetheless i do declare

i'm glad to be way

down in new orleans

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* [unpaywalled following a one-year embargo]

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still asleep i leap

from my bed into

the confusion of the day

the sun just risen and blue

sky surrounding

white and gold and green

white van and black truck

nose to nose in snow

the driveway and sidewalk clear

the zen scene of yang and yin

squaring off under

a late winter sun

on high drive a car

affixes its beams

on me perhaps driverless

as if doubting the sunrise

and i look beyond

to the gold-rush sky

i hazard to stand

in the middle ice

refrozen on the asphalt

and feel the possible cars

rumbling out of

the rushing future

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jopomojo.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jopomojo.substack.com/subscribe