March 3, 2003

Ragged Lion

Recalling Jack Micheline

Thursday, February 27, marked the fifth anniversary of poet Jack Micheline’s death. To measure his passing, a small group gathered at the Abandoned Planet bookstore to read poems and share gossip. The venue was appropriate, because many years ago Micheline transformed the walls of a small back room into an oasis of brightly colored poetry. And because bookstore owner Scott Harrison has written a wonderfully evocative description of Micheline as poet and painter.

To continue the commemoration, the Call posts the following poems by Jack Micheline, from sixty-seven poems for downtrodden saints:

POEM

crooked streets

curve into the night sky

San Francisco 1 AM

Drag Queens whistle

we're ready

as the jets rumble on

and the voices

pour out of the bars and cafes

cash registers

and wheels

all over a nation

action is life

bright colors of clothing

always that voice and moans

at the Flea Bag Hotel off Market

Thirty years kicking death in the Ass

The fool is never ready for recognition

He is

October 22, 1986

---------------

HIDING PLACES

There are hiding places in my room

where beautiful poems are hidden

Poems hidden away in boxes

on sheets of brown paper

Poems of spirit and magic

workers hands hidden in boxes

beautiful thighs

there are blue skies hidden in my room

dolphins and seagulls

the heaving of breasts and oceans

there are skies in my room

there are flies in my room

there are streets in my room

there are a thousand nights hidden in boxes

there are drunks in my poems

there are a million stars on the roof of my room

all hidden away in boxes

there are steps down side streets

there is a crazed eye of a poet in my room

there are old Arabs exploring the desert near Escalon

there are sparrows and bluebirds and wildcats in my room

there are elephants and tigers

there are skinny Italian girls in my room

there are letters from Peru and England

and Germany and Russia in my room

There are the steps of Odessa in my room

the Volga river in my room

there are dreams in the night of my room

there are flowers

there is the dance of affirmation in my room

the steps of young poets carrying knapsacks full of poems

there are the Pictures of an Exhibition in my room

Moussorgsky and Shostakovich

and Charlie Mingus in my room

Composers and painters all singing in my room

all hidden away in boxes

one night when the moon is full

they will come out and do a dance

November 19, 1976

San Francisco, CA

---------------

POEM

To capture the feeling

To feel its pulse

To see the stream has been muddied

I am busy reshaping the stars

I cannot be bothered with your

Earthly pleasures

All these rantings and ravings

Have nothing to do with poetry

Have nothing to do with magic

Only the ears of butterflies

And birds

And the delicate moths

Matter

Let the Angels in

Let them into this Market

Now

Feel, see, and breathe

February 25, 1998

San Francisco