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[Return to Guest Poets Page]Russell Salamon
Russell Salamon lives and writes in Los Angeles, CA. He has published
many chapbooks and one "official" book: Descent into Cleveland,
about growing up in Cleveland. Contact Russell at thesalamons@earthlink.net Spy from the Future In the future we know meanings of all words so that poetry, a word art, once more carries news, real news. People use poetry to speak and listen to new creation. Here is a sample intercepted by our spy from the future. Say those stars slowly like molten stones giving off hot springtimes, or say cold stone-breaking winters. Make natural laws natural like slow music. A planet must be solid so it can hold war or famine or rainforests. It must be made to bear fruit and blood. But that was old-style century management by slow decay and slow growth of life forms. It kept us busy for a long time. But here, time is more fluid like blue sea water, like plankton gardens shining iridescent forms of thought and in that dense water, like love, a liquid so alive we drink sea wind and sea water. We start to see from all directions of time. I see you from this angle in the future. There you are, your feet firmly on terra firma and firmly on the road to freedom. Some are still shooting friends and refuse to go free, but most of us are pushing light out of the swamps and into leaves of trees and into faces of friends. Heaven is a group activity. And so we build. Brain Storming Sam, an old man sat in a cafe, pretending to read the paper, three cups of coffee in a row paid sitting-rent. Across town there was a meeting, he was listening to the plans. Men were trying to buy death with money again. Bill, a young one, the lender, had no plan; it was his father's money. Sam looked from Bill's mind and whispered, "Make them sign a non-pollution agreement, with penalties if they violate it. Put in a life form replacement clause. They must replace the lives they take. That means hatcheries and tree nurseries and clean water for fish." "Have some cocaine," offered one of the dark ones. He sensed too much intelligence in Bill's space. Sam switched mind locations and gave the dark one a brain flash, a jolt of hot light. "Ow," said the darkest one. "I've got it!" said Bill. "You may use the money but only if you sign a non-pollution agreement, and a life replacement clause. And you must make your water clean for the salmon." Sam turned the page of the newspaper. "Warring Parties Refuse to Negotiate," the headline read. He searched the planet until he found the mind that controlled both sides of the conflict for personal profit, who felt safe, hundreds of miles away, in another country at a villa near the sea. Sam sipped his coffee as he considered what to do. He had a bright idea. He declared Logic War. The man, shall we call him Greed, didn't know what hit him. "Oh, no, I am having a Conscience Convulsion! Call the doctor," he screamed at his wife. Sam showed Greed his future on a bald planet, eating sand to make life habitable for bacteria, for worms, for plants, for higher life forms, rebuilding the planet slowly. "You must bring back to life what you kill." "What's the matter, darling? his wife asked. "Call my psychiatrist, I am having an attack. Lightning is flashing in my brain." "Not brain, mind," Sam corrected. Battle Plan Seventeen thousand of you hide in reflections on the water. The elf unit, take the south side of the city. Bring as many as you need. Millions is all right; bring shovels. Those of you with music still ringing in your ears from Palestrina choirs stand here. We have them surrounded with a bright future. You, backup troops, hide in next Tuesday. When the city sails forward in time, release the minds. Be careful not to leave any leashes on the hummingbirds. When we attack there will be a lot of blood in the streets. The symphony orchestras will absorb it all, not to worry. Are you properly armed with long range purposes? Let me see them. Ten hut! Present time without limits. Let's see those dreams. Sleepers awake and present the ramifications. Games. Light. Snow falling on mountains. Load. Ready. On the count of three. Start! The following is a series of "Hello" poems Hello Dog, Don't bark so loud. You'll knock them all off. The ground is already covered with cherry blossoms. § Hello Cow, Your moo smells from iris flowers. § Hello Cat, Good night, out you go. I throw you out into the smell of hyacinths. § Hello Frog, Do you jump into the reflected leaves to hide? § Hello Sun, You are warm today. Yesterday, I had to use the pot bellied stove. § Hello Sound, After the violin, do you become perfume? § Hello Music, Are there sound-trees and are you its delicious fruit? § Hello Bird, Just stand there trembling; it's all right. You were nearly hit by lightning. § Hello Bird, Your silver cry cuts space. You must be hungry. § Hello Snow, You are so white. Have you been sleeping on a sad lady's face? § Hello Rainbow, Are you digging a hole in the monutain to pour your colors in? § Hello Flower, Your perfume seems sweeter. Was she crying here last night? § Hello Rain, What a nice way to thank me. My portait in raindrops. § Hello Car, As you move, your headlights extinguish the moonlight. § So there you are, cheese face. What are you doing down in that pond? I have been looking for you in the sky: Hello Moon. § Hello Washbowl, Washing my face in you-- my face leaps around in your reflections. § Hello House, As heat returns into my fingers, I am happy I was out in the snow. § Hello Tree, Your leaves are a green fire where birds sit warming themselves. § Hello Mist, Rain is making thought sounds as it falls on my hair. § Hello Fire, I bend to smell you, my eyebrows burn. § Hello Log, You grin in the fire, losing more and more teeth. § Hello Shadow, When I am asleep, do you meet your family and play werewolves in the front yard? § Hello Mud Footprints, When the kids leave do you walk away? § Hello Kids, Your big laughing eyes show through your monster masks. § Hello Rock Music, If she makes any more moves that girl will fall apart at the curves. § Hello Chicken's Knee, You bend backwards. § Hello Jazz Concert, Everyone is sitting on little springs. § Hello Sheriff, I wasn't speeding. § Hello Stream, As I wade in you, I stand inside the sky. § Copyright © 1999. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Duplication of this poetry and/or art without permission of the author/artist is forbidden under copyright law. Please ask permission if you wish to use for non-commercial purposes
Tuesday, July 11, 2000 |