Richard Montillo

Duo

The big bass 

        framed 
                    against the tall cold 
window 

       picks and strums 
his leaned stringed warmth 
      the man 

              no longer 

                    man 
 his eyelids shut 

        against the room 

           deaf to tables 

                     deaf 
to white foamed cafe 

      lattes 
           deaf 

                  hears
                          only as his partner 
                                    plays 

a bugle note

   and then 
a line of trumpet 

   poetry 
beneath the bar 

     like neon 
letters Fingers 

      in a simple way 

           tap 
out 

      what 
appears 
     to be 

           impossible 
Outside 
       above 
          the flags 

                 as though nourished by the late night 
durge

         flap
quickly

              in the rippling 

                   spaces 
of the hurt 
     Where 

               the corner of the room 
behind them

     meet 
              shadow 
a dancing 

   cubist 

        silhouette 
             makes them 
one 

      with one

                heart 
beat 
 
 

In Children's Fists 

 This summer 

         again 

           cattle graze 
 on a Miles Davis sketch 

      and the power plant 
             shuts down 
 it's murky juice 

       it's starry striped 
          freezers 

                  Black fruit 
 from Andalusia 
          have been sampled 

                   in the Humboldt 
 and Mendocino 
        haze 

             In Calistoga 
 new vineyards 

         open up 

                  their terraces 
 and other dark 

        and bright 
 terrain 
     Tourists 

             have seen 
 visions 
    between the shield and blade 

        of nexus and infinity 
 seen 

      envelopes stamped with kites 
 floating 
        as the sky 

             heard duets of cubist chords 
 Hikers 

       have encountered Basho 

               in new clothes 
 on the mountain 

       road 
            to St. Helena 

                I myself have witnessed 
 something strange as I snapped 
          my fingers to the beat 

                 Frayed rope ends 
 in children's fists 

     were whipping the non fat 

              air 
 into heavy creams in which 
     the dark girl jumped 

           I swear 
 I heard 
    the concrete 

          cry
 
 
 
 
 

Back to SRLU