At an open poetry reading in Monterey,
another poet got on stage and said he had nothing to say.
And that made the audience go ballistic,
and some got so pissed, they even got pugilistic ~
till the authorities came ~ and took all our poetry away.
The Midnight Fog of Monterey Bay
David J Walker
Yes, wet, and fertile
The air was like consuming sex
Forgetting to breath
Forgetting any need
Forgetting the flavors of dry
Or what I remembered of the
The perfect hue of any other
Night sky
Monterey Bay was my first
Dance partner
And I was its awkward first time
Teenager who would
Fall in love with the experience
Of fog
And would soon be gone
Retaining the memory
She would forget
Written May 4, 2020
I can feel the sun beat down
O’er the sailors as they say
That we should have gone a different way
A compass if I may
Storms a brewin’ anyways
The horizon slowly fades
Silence grows as we slowly slip away
With an ocean between us
I never loved you more than Monterey
Gloomy's the yard covered with fallen leaves
Winter's coldness comes with winds wet with rains
Lonely souls dread most the lengthy cold nights
A quick-paced life about thin frosts complains
A cocoon imprisons the silkworm tight
Burnt out candles waste their flickering light
The empty house is a daily sad thing
Only the beauty's worshiped in painting
Clouds cap mountains
Making them like models
My eyes see toys
Green paint and fuzz
Card-stock and brush strokes
But its real
And it makes me think that nothing could ever really be bad.
Even before she left she was not here
Her blue eyes focused somewhere far away
I try to smile as I hold back the tear
While I walk the dark streets of Monterey
She said she loved me in the warmth of Spring
I did not think about the coming cold
Looking forward to what Summer would bring
Never worrying what Autumn might hold
Then Winter came and brought warmth to an end
With swift goodbyes she took her love one day
And ripped the fabric that will never mend
Left me to walk the streets of Monterey
It's cold here now and that's the price I pay
For crying in the streets of Monterey
10/13/17
Tight clutched meat pocket
White melted cream held within
Hot meal tongue’s delight
By Robb A. Kopp