Santa Cruz Good Times

Wednesday
Jul 29th
Text size
  • Increase font size
  • Default font size
  • Decrease font size

The Poems of Brad Crenshaw

ane_bradEditor’s notes: Brad Crenshaw received both his MFA and PhD in English from the University of California, Irvine. He later obtained a second PhD in clinical psychology and neuroscience from the University of Massachusetts, where he teaches neuropsychology in the graduate psychology program. For many years he worked as a neuropsychologist in a New England medical center. His poems and critical articles have appeared in various magazines, including Chicago Review, Parnassus, Massachusetts Review, Shenandoah, The Formalist, The Sandhills Review, Illinois Quarterly, Faultline and others. Greenhouse Review Press has published his chapbook, Limits of Resurrection. He lives in Amherst, Massachusetts, and part of the year in Fallbrook, California.

 

The Book of Coming Through by Day

I
Constructive and merciful forces carry us by day in great machines upon a rule of air, the
blue and black-blue tons. Our stewardess has run her sleigh beside me wearing jewels and
other cool gear to pour the tea at this seraphic altitude between the Hero Twins. All along my theory’s been at one with Cosmic Monster—meaning catholic and grandiose emotions ooze like crocodiles through my stealthy nature—or intellect, I mean, or inhibitions, or what I
really mean is that turbid, healthy lady with the permanent is in my seat as we soar toward the stream of ocean. 
II
Dawn in yellow robes was nuking breakfast for the revelers and pilgrims packed in rows and half awake, or sleeping. In the past the learned Greek beside me would have dozed until New Mexico, but woke instead in turbulence, coffee slopped across the Sabine beetles—luminous
but dead—that he retrieved from Suriname at the cost of boils, he said, and numbness in his legs. I like his concepts. The gifts he brings Persephone, his sweet diminished friend, would maybe beg forbearance of his failings. As shadows, singly, we do offend our graces. Right.
Our plane slips to the little world of, oh, I don’t know, cities.

III
I call myself a true Confucian while our plane with no relation to my enemies taxis by the waste sea, and filial piety descends. Apart from these remaining bullet holes, the signs of fate are ane_poemsindistinct. Visible spirits disappear down the billion bright steps to the gate and out to
chase a living in the queer guilt of California, my native place with its pelicans and old
dopers littering the beaches. Nah. I said that wrong. I’ve raced here through the superflux to join the glittering stars because my weary, awkward, preoccupied, certain father, as I feared,
has died.

IV
Ravens flopped before he knew it through the blue light of the first three worlds to bend him toward the afterlife, a black crew of princes. To the mystic circus of winds and spirits he descended, the Skeleton Man abandoning our brute creation where the dirty ground of love inheres, and famine rubs our sense. We eat ourselves. Scared and grieving, my mother’s
overthrown, shattered like an egg exactly as he left her for his iteration out of matter, the
quantum trick of tunneling or deftly reoccurring in a time, or caught in space outside the
atom of our thought.

V
Yeah, well, you, ah, know that’s just like your opinion, man, this toothless varmint tells me
on the beach. I spill the dust and ashes of corruption, weeping, and get to wish his genius would hush or channel elsewhere. He sucks his paunch in and proclaims the nature of my karma in the inessential round of birds and quadrupeds. My fame among the Mayan priests arose in seven murders, though four were undeserving. At Troy on the windy plains the
armies slaughter men and children. I rub my bluish wound and toy with remorse before my father picks me up with his philosophy and beautiful conduct.


Comments (0)Add Comment

Write comment
smaller | bigger

busy
 

Share this on your social networks

Bookmark and Share

Share this

Bookmark and Share

 

Health Screening

Santa Cruz wellness expert releases app to improve workplace well-being

 

Leo Sun; Full Moon, Venus Retro in Leo; Saturn Direct

It’s a complex week of planetary movements, challenges, demands and callings. We’re in the time of the Leo Sun. Leo—fixed fire, gold, the heart, generous, strong, noble, the king/queen—needs appreciation and praise from everyone in order to move forward. During Leo we gain a greater sense of self-identification by recognizing our creativity. It’s therefore a perfect time for Venus retrograding in Leo. In Venus retrograde we review and re-assess values. Venus retro in Leo concerns our self as valuable, acknowledging talents, gifts, abilities and offerings. Friday, Venus re-enters Leo (29 degrees, a critical degree) continuing the retrograde to 14 degrees Leo on Sept. 6. Friday (Full Moon) is also the (8 degrees) Leo solar festival, Festival of the Future. Leo is the heart of the sun, the heart of all that matters. When attuned to this heart, we have understanding and inclusivity. The heart of the Lion is Mitra (think “Maitreya,” the coming World Teacher). Leo prepares humanity to receive divine love from subtle sources and later to radiate that love to the kingdoms. Sirius, Ray 2, where love originates, streams through Regulus (heart of Leo), into the heart of the sun (Ray 2) and into all hearts. The heart of Leo is Regulus. Joining Venus, the love underlying all of creation appears. Saturday is Sun/Neptune (confusion or devotion) with late night Saturn turning stationary direct. Ideas, plans and structures held long in abeyance (since March 14) slowly move forward. (Read more on Leo and the week at nightlightnews.org and Risa D’Angeles’ Facebook page, accessed through my website.)

 

The New Tech Nexus

Community leaders in science and technology unite to form web-based networking program

 

Jailbreak with Reality

‘The Stanford Prison Experiment’ revisits one of the most notorious studies of all time
Sign up for Good Times weekly newsletter
Get the latest news, events

RSS Feed Burner

 Subscribe in a reader

Latest Comments

 

Holy Cannoli

New bakery opens in Ben Lomond, plus Randall Grahm’s quest to grow 10,000 new grape varieties, and Mexican cooking classes

 

Is Santa Cruz turning into Malibu North?

It's got a ways to go before it gets wrecked like Malibu, but I think we need to be very careful about growth. Maria Mattioli, Santa Cruz, Psychotherapist

 

Bargetto Winery

A much-anticipated annual event at Bargetto Winery is the release of their very special La Vita red wine. June 7 was the day to be heralded this year, and I happily squeezed my car into their overloaded car park in eager anticipation of tasting the new La Vita nectar.

 

Margaritaville

Popular Capitola spot gets new owner and complete makeover