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The Road to Kaliskia
The ocher earth road
spools down, sails out,
plunges into sapphire,
into the swaying sea.
Marble-strewn coves
shelter solitary boats,
sun-blown branches,
slow-swimming bodies.
A lyre-wind
plays gently, lyrically
over the waters,
over the wonders.
Colin Goedecke
Kaliskia, Kea
The Cyclades
August 2012
Picnic in the Air
Where gravity is suspended
by late-afternoon.
Leaving you free to picnic
or frolic past sunset,
moonset,
at any altitude you desire,
on deep cushions of air.
Round an awning-striped
tablecloth spread
weightlessly,
elegantly
with cold, blushing
bottles of wine,
hard and soft cheeses,
cow and goat
from France and Spain;
wildly crusty loaves
of bread, whose crumbs
drift off here and there
on the breeze
to feed peckish passing birds.
Wrinkled olives,
ripe berries,
sparkling water;
bubbling laughter
and languid pleasure
over the floating feast.
Colin Goedecke
Convent Station, New Jersey
July, 2016
Let the Fireworks Begin
The star showers.
The wild flowerings.
The palm trees and peonies,
dahlias, chrysanthemums
of high-flying light;
The waterfalls
of sparks, colors.
The bright night-burnings
embering down
into dark.
The flashes
and shimmers
of earth-flung comets,
bracelets, diadems.
The rocketing arcs
you follow with wide-open eyes,
almost held-breath,
till you ohh and aah
from the outbursts
of silver and gold;
emerald, rose, rare blue.
Feel the ensuing booms
reverberate in your belly
as you lie face-to-sky
on a wide-spread blanket
easy and cozy with friends.
And savor all ~
amid the dangling spangles,
and wizzing, crackling,
whistling sounds ~
with innocent wonder.
Through the last fanfare:
the blazing, rousing finale;
the applause,
the drifting clouds
of smoke and contented crowds.
Colin Goedecke
Morristown, New Jersey
July 4th, 2016
A Day the Sun Stood Still
for this summer solstice
Today.
A day unlike any other,
past or future.
Not because the sun will stand
still, at the Tropic of Cancer,
then reverse
its northerly arc
and head radiantly south,
toward the Tropic of Capricorn.
Not because a full moon,
a native, votive Strawberry Moon
will, just once
in most of our lifetimes,
rise on the same plane.
Today is a day unlike any other
because it’s a new day
of light, lightness;
rareness, wonder
open to one, to all.
A day where our own stillness
can greatly illuminate.
Where we can choose
to move likewise;
clock-or-counterclockwise,
in phenomenal directions.
Can invoke a fresh season,
infusion, green summer of self;
bring ripening
to our life seeds,
fruits, vines, visions;
connect more deeply,
simply to the earth;
to the purely elemental
shining inside, around
and above us.
Colin Goedecke
On the Summer Solstice,
at the Loantaka Brook Reservation
Convent Station, New Jersey
June 20, 2016
I See Him
I see him
in the self-portrait
I make
on the road to Vourkari:
his pure manliness,
his handsomeness,
fathered
into my face:
eyes, nose and brow
in deep shadow
under a brim
of coconut straw --
a touch like the summer hat
he used to wear
with a madras band;
mine unbanded.
Half my expression
in shadow, the other --
mouth, chin and his jaw,
our jaw,
in high sun;
turned at a slight right
and upward angle
to the camera:
a portrait
in son and shade
of father.
Colin Goedecke
On the road to Vourkari, Kea, Greece
August 2012
for Ute Dugan on becoming an American citizen
When you took your oath to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness
today, the statue
of the colossally copper-clad lady
standing since 1886
at New York’s door
with her sunlit torch of gold,
smiled. And as she smiled,
ships of all shapes
and sizes and ages,
especially ferries and tugs,
blew whistles and horns
sky-high and bass-low.
And bells on bicycles
and church towers,
from the Battery to Gramercy
rang clearly, and joyfully.
All to salute you
and your declaration of independence,
your pledge to pursue the possibilities
and great freedoms
that come with being an American;
that belong to us as citizens;
who, us among them, welcome you
today with broad stripes and bright stars.
Colin Goedecke
New York City
April 2007
Green clouds
lie along the surface
of our coastal passage.
Clouds of conifers,
of Sitka spruce and cedar,
shore pine,
hemlock and alder;
that change shape by decades
instead of days;
by generations
of snow and light;
that share the shelter
of their deep-rooted solace
with the water,
the earth, the birds
and sometime-passing men.
Colin Goedecke
The Inside Passage, SE Alaska
July 2009
a poem for the spring equinox
It's The Day to Spring,
from winter's bare coil.
The Day for Self,
and Nature,
to draw its longbowed
heart and sap back
and let fly,
freely,
swiftly,
vernally forth,
air to ground,
arrowing
with anticipation
into the marrow
of all newness,
all awakening,
all fullness.
Colin Goedecke
Central Park, New York
March 20, 2016
There's a glossy, moss-hatted leprechaun
smiling Irishly on the subway platform,
waiting to travel underground
(as all leprechauns do) up to Fifth Avenue,
where the street is paved
with red-headed men
and freckle-faced maids
and a St. Patty's parade
is in full swing;
the City a wild shamrock,
lilting with Danny boys and
sweet Kathleens
and people dressed
in every shade of Spring.
Colin Goedecke
New York City
March 17, 1998
Sea Cycle
A man rides his bicycle
on the sea;
salt rubs the tires,
sun reflects on the soles
of his shoes
as he pedals
over starfish
and speckled crabs,
under seagulls
and threaded clouds,
past fishermen
and upright bathers -
until the pier,
where he turns left
and follows the sun down
over the horizon.
from The Speed of Sight
Colin Goedecke
Forte dei Marmi
October 1997
Klimt in His Garden
for Jasper Krabbé at his 2007 New York Opening,
on a painting of the painter Gustav Klimt
He moves in a moonlength robe
through an evening green garden
of quietude; with hidden feet
that touch the muted grass and moss;
his figure almost afloat
under the first blooms
faint and soon fragrant
on the branches over his silent head
and soft beard, without thought
of brushes or canvases,
only this moment
savoring the poetry
of a Spring night
in his garden.
© Colin Goedecke
In Chelsea, New York City
March, 2007
The upholstery is vast
and varied.
Overstuffed divans
wildly embroidered
with orchids
and scented with cedar.
Chaise-longues
with legs of living wood.
High, wing-backed chairs
of granite and quartz,
doilied with distant snow.
Seedling-stuffed ottomans
fit for the feet of Gullivers.
Fans of delicate ferns.
Headboards of hemlock
carved with eagles.
All carpeted with barks
and cones, and plush
mosses made for the touch;
all dappled
with serene summer light.
© Colin Goedecke
Frederick Sound, SE Alaska
July 2009
Earth Man
Earthman.
Planetarian.
Worldling.
Humankindler.
Homeric sapien.
You.
We.
Solar beings.
Seeking,
drinking,
reflecting
light.
©Colin Goedecke
in NoMad, New York City
January, 2016
Snowfall
It powders down
onto the heads and shoulders
of men, houses, and horses,
whitens the teeth
of picket fences,
lathers the bristled faces
of Northern forests.
It boughs down
to the outstretched arms
of trees, tongues of children,
the folded wings of sleeping owls.
Confettis down
past millions
of living room, bedroom,
office, train windows,
seen and unseen.
Swirls down
in great silence,
eloquence;
with pure, hushing,
comforting presence.
©Colin Goedecke
January, 2014
by Central Park
New York City