sw00238s-br.d6.yellow

Sets: set 2 -
 Birthday Ribbons - Day Six

          "1-16-77      yellow"


          This day I begin
            year 37
                    toward heaven
            though I'm
              someplaces told
            I'm a
              hell-caught fool:
          somewhy   it seems/
                      we/ 
                           just drift
                purgatories,                   
            our left
              shoulders
                angled against
                  door jambs,
            our eyes
              full of nothing--
                their powers
              drawn back
                upon
            themselves
          as the energies of
          black-hole stars,
            our          minds
                so lost
              in the mazes
              of loves
            it's likely we'll
                  never
                consummate
          (despite desires)
              we have to ask
            that if     they're
                          seen
              somewhere
            they should please
            be led back,
                  thank you:

          And today is Sunday
            & ice-age cold
              and bright
              only
          in the snap-
                      ping wind,
          and the Sabbath
          commandment
          we are keeping
                here
            at home:
                     and I still
          would celebrate
            to the riffs             
          a fireplace warmth
              forgetful of
                the -60
                  wind
                  chill
              & the charges to
                    fill a mold:

                Crows
                    bump
                through the
                bleak
                    gusts
          while, snug
          in the poignant caves
          of their choosing,
          bears dream:

                          As
          I celebrate,
            I celebrate:
          had I gone
                to church
           I would have
                celebrated
       thus:
       were I to make love,
          I would celebrate
                          so:
          if I'd go
          early
          to the inn
          to talk & drink,   
        to laugh,                   
            to relax, 
          I/ must      soon
          go to bed  
            to celebrate:
          if I heat               
                this chair
            tapping for
              riches,
                    these acts
                    will be
              my celebration:

          In the freezer
            waits
                  ice
                  cream;
          in the refrigerator,
                  cherry pie:

          I am a man,
                      a kid,
            a corpse,
                      a spirit,
          an insatiable
              spy:
                if you try me,
          you will find
          my
              tolerance long,
          my patience
          lengthy,
                  though
                  I curse
                  & spit:
          my need   
          to be loved and
          to love
                a frozen
                grandiflora,
                  a present
                  forever,
                    ribbons
                    constantly
                            loosened,
          bowed,
                 & twirled &
                 hurled
          in the blank air.

  


~ 
Brian A. J. Salchert                      

sw00237s-br.d5.blue

Sets: set 2 -
 Birthday Ribbons - Day Five

          "1-15-77      blue"


          And the 
          Arctic Tern
              flies farther
                to nest
                  than    any
                      other
                    bird
            because I
                need it
              to:
                  and lives
                  in sunlight
          more than any
            creature
                on this
                    Earth:
            as far as
              10,000 miles
              & 8 solid months
                    of day:

          Today
          Janice & I
          drove north
          northwest
          32 miles
              to celebrate
            my 36th year
              with her mother
                & father
                & 1st sister:
                    Edie,
                    Kenny,
                    Julie:
            spaghetti 'n'
                      sauce
                by Julie;
            banana cream
                & cherry pies
              by Edie;
            when Kenny
                  got home,
              a wish for a
              happy birthday
                with:
          "May you live forever
            and I
                  never die."

          Here & there
              swirling across
            the highway home,
                smoke
                  of snow:
            the mailman brought
            card #3:
                     a greeting
               from Janice's
               brother, David,
               and his wife
                     & boys:
            the Lamplighter
            called:
                    our lamps
                are fixed:

  


~ 
Brian A. J. Salchert                      

sw00236s-br.d4.teal

Sets: set 2 -
 Birthday Ribbons - Day Four

          "1-14-77      teal"


          How I could
                      run
                    & skate,
                  tease
                          the winds,
            yet not until
            competing
            was a lie
            test
            my gift
            100 yards!
                        How
              confess
              & confess
            until ears scream,
          yet breathe
          so little
            of who I am!
                        born
          into Fond du Lac
              (unfit to smile)
            to godly parents,
              even if
            to a mom too gentle &
            a dad too firm:

                Take me for
            a conservative
                    guy:
                  often enough
            a demanding 
                        encounter
                  closes me
                though I
                           want
              to say
                     I love you
                     love 
                       love you
                with ringing arms
            & deep-tongued eyes,
                  hold you with
                entrancing kisses,
                    though I
                             surge
                        inside:
                  the arms so
                slightly rising,
                  the half-
                smile,
                  the corny
                phrase:

          And we climbed
              with
                    Bobby's kite,
                      climbed
                      & climbed,
                until it seemed
                      our climbing
              would never end
              though we knew
                how tense
              the strain
                on
                   the curved
                    string:
                  the exalting
                & exalted
                              kite
                finally found
                  by the
              railroad tracks
                  over
                half-a-mile
                    away:

  


~ 
Brian A. J. Salchert                      

sw00235s-br.d3.red

Sets: set 2 -
 Birthday Ribbons - Day Three 

          "1-13-77     red"


          From the spools
          of memory,
          vignettes
                    appear:

          me with my
                     father
          in our garage
            mixing cement,
            sawing a 2-by-4,
            storing screens;
          out in our lot
            digging
                  postholes,
            trimming a bush,
                planting,
                  mowing,
                    raking,
              chopping
              a head
                off
                a chicken;
            in a rocking boat
              listlessly
              waiting
                for some
                tricked perch
                to liven us;
            in our basement--
              with 15 kids from
              the neighborhood--
                mesmerized by
              "No Indians, Please"
              & World War II news
                  flickering on
                the projector
                screen portion
                of the east wall,
              or the Lionel
                (oh, my 2 sisters
                 were also there)
              as it clattered on
              its well-governed
                            track,
              or
                --with other
                  boys only--
                      the keyhole
                  ladies
                in the frosted
                bar glasses;
          in our living room
            rollicked
            by Milton Berle,
            or sombered by a
            Graf Zeppelin stamp
              he      will sell:

          with
          my mom
          in our kitchen
            working a
            rolling pin,
            pressing
            cookie cutters
              for santas, bells,
              gingerbread men;
            drawing maps;
          on the stairs
            picking up
                  forgotten
                  toys,
            vacuuming--
              I day-
              dreaming,
              playing
              with sound--
                          yet
            that whirring
            by the moss phlox!
              the dwarf hyacinths!
              that larger
              than bumblebee!
         that--                   
              I whisper
                    to my mother
                    to quietly           
              come closer as,
                        carefully,        
                    I crouch
                    on my toes--
              that
                  ruby,
                yes, male,
                      yes, Ruby-
            throated Hummingbird,
              ah!
                  windmill
                  of the Lord!:

            with           whomever
                      snatching
                    tadpoles,
                 those
              wriggly wriggly
                  out of Hadley's
              inlet!:
            and those long
                    evening walks
              with Gary,
                        Ron,
                            Tom
                 and the radio,
              listening
              to the Braves'
                 games (through
                        crickets/
                        nighthawks/
                        revvings
                        of cars)
                   when the
                   Braves rode
                   Milwaukee's
                          hills
                       chieftain tall!

~ 
Brian A. J. Salchert                  

sw00234s-br.d2.white

Sets: set 2 - 
 Birthday Ribbons - Day Two

          "1-12-77     white"


          Such things
          to choose,
          let ricochet, 
          dodge!:
                cornucopias
                tumble
                at us!:
              anyone's
              Gobis
              Urals,
              Niles:
              anyone's
              riddles:
              anyone's
              mines:
              the ticking,
              creaking,
              sputtering
              of time:
              loves /
                terrors,
              angers /
                delights,
              rots /
                fruitions--
                      of the
                      globed
                      & bright
                      & juicy
                      Snow,
                      of the
                      dandy
                      civilized
                      yam,
                      of a
                      roseate
                      star:

          Such
            cor-
                 nu-
                      copias,
            ka-
                lei-
                      doscopes,
            skies!:

          in the root web
          of an oak,
                     cantatas
                     of droplets
                     of water,
            strength-laden
            insects
            of soil,
                dreams
                for the deep
                choreography
                of leaves:

                       we are
          axial
                & galactic,
              expecting
                        to die:

          The ribbons
          of our commitments,
           frayed,
                   faded:
            we can only
            replace
            & replace:
          the presents
          of our caring,
          borrowed,
                  taken:
            we can only
            return
            & return:

          Aphrodite
                  out of the
                  sea,
          Artemis
                  out of the
                  moon,
          Apollo
                  out of the             
                  sun:

          Crawl,
                 walk,
                       run,
            jump                                                     
                     to fly,
              excitation
              to excitation
                tingling
                our spirits,
                our spines,
            mad,           
            foolish,
            blindingly
                       divine:

              At the gate,
              the sagging
              splintering
              gate,
                    we meet,
              say hello,
                       enter
                where mists
          from the ocean
                         touch
                  & sway;
            and the curve
          of our communions,
              speeding
                    to the peaks
                of who we are
                  in our hearts
                      & bones:
                gentle,
                    fierce,
             ancient:
               as the blossoms
               of the void:
                     obliterates
             adagio:

                      atoms
                      in
                         me
                      shivering
                      atoms
                      in
                         you
                      &
                      atoms
                      in
                         you
                      shivering
                      atoms
                      in
                         me:

          In the measure
          of this quack stem
          I chew on,
          in the hazel
          penetration
          of your eyes,
              Florida
              & oranges,
              California
              cliffs,
              the marshes
              of a child's
              warm
              Wisconsin,
            someone
            rummaging garbage
            in an alley,
            someone
            who has made
            the bedding clean:

 


~
Brian A. J. Salchert                      

sw00233s-br.d1.violet

Sets: set 2 -
 Birthday Ribbons - Day One

 with an infinite thank you to
 George Starbuck,
        A. R. Ammons, 
               Donald Justice, 
    and 
 Marvin Bell

          "1-11-77     violet"


          And the wrapped
                     presents:
              dimensions,
              horizons,
              trajectories?

            Violet
                     white
              red
                  teal
               blue
              yellow,

          the anxiously freed
            birthday ribbons
                      swirl &
                          cork-
                        screw
            through the
                        silly
                  air

          as I,
          drowsy
          in the pinched
          light,
          compose:






 


~
Brian A. J. Salchert