I was acquainted with Jack in North Beach in the nineties and early oughts, he would come out to read in North Beach at Cafe Prague, a regular series organized by the late Mark Schwartz. That scene and that era marched on, but I remember. Jack was poised, humane, generous of spirit, as in the poem.
1. There was a redtail hawk, a crow, and a raven. They sat upon a branch and looked towards a cloud around a mountain where a storm seemed to be brewing. The crow crossed its head on the right shoulder of the redtail hawk, the raven did the same tapping the redtail hawk on its left shoulder. The redtail hawk flew off into the storm cloud- the eye of which continued to form into a red eye.
The voice of Michael the Archangel said: "And the youngest shall carry the banner forth against the coming storm"
2. St. Peter was managing the Pearly Gates. An archetypal family man in his suit was there and Peter was reading off the things the man had done. Peter finally paused and said "Look here you degenerate excuse for a soul, tell me, did you honestly believe that just because you said sorry every so often you darkened the doors of a church that was enough to receive penance for these crimes against God, your fellow man, your fellow woman, and mother earth ?"
The archetypal midwest family man sweated for a minute and then answered: "Well yeah, if I hadn't said sorry I'd busted Hell wide open. What's your problem ? This death business is a real inconvenience."
St Peter scratched at his beard and said "Bust hell wide open, you say ?"
The Archetypal Family Man said: "Well that was the theory, yeah."
St. Peter felt off to the side, grabbed a lever, and said "Let's test that theory."
The last thing that could be seen of the "Family Man, the Good MAGA"- was his eyes becoming as big as saucers as he fell through the clouds.
St. Peter looked down a few minutes later when he heard the sound of planks and masonry breaking.
St Peter heard a buzzing behind him, it was his phone, and he answered:
"Yeah, don't that beat all, the things some of these sick people are doing, boy is Hell going to have to expand its repair budget. Cause a lot of them are going to bust Hell wide open. I think I'll form a new line..."
3.
I was in the middle of a bamboo grove someone had put down by a bunch of evergreens.
I was a bat. Melchizdek was beside me, and he had taken a smaller form of himself. He said to me:
"Remember that to carry the message forward you must sometimes hang as a bat, fly low as a condor, fly as high as the falcon, prey as the hawk, but never forget your faith and soul grounded in God and his mercy and word. Faith without works is no value, works with no faith little better. Maintain your faith, maintain the work, carry it on."
End of Dream
4.
Melchizedek had this to say:
There will be an election in 2028. There is a future forward. There is a whole segment of the population to afraid to say publicly what they think- which is that a raving narcissist lunatic doesn't have a path to peace, and wouldn't know it if he saw it or if it was disguised as a vagina with a "Grab Me" sign affixed. He and his hold not the future. The future is in the hands of those who will embrace peace, embrace love, live life as the Christ of the Gospels outlined to live life, embrace all- from the lowest of the low to the Kings who they are but the finest. The people with the future and the path to get there are those who balance faith and action, and embrace that which is "GOOD" and give it a future.
Melchizedek patted me on the shoulder and said: "You have your path to do the work, and Donald Trump does not know the first thing of the work. That you find yourself at polar opposites is a good thing. Same for Sloan"
My friend added:
It is 6:35am here. I am going to go help do what I can at the soup kitchen, and have taken down an inventory of the supplies that K-12 students will need and we'll organize to get them(me, my sis, an old Greek orthodox priest who has retired, and three little ladies who are retired teachers).
Years ago, I experienced Jack Hirschman reading his poetry at City Lights Books in San Francisco. Between his thick mane of hair, walrus mustache, and ferocious reading style, he was truly a lion of an artist. I sat at his feet, sketching his portrait, and every time I looked up, his spittle rained down on me. I felt anointed. I interviewed him twice (off camera) for my in-progress documentary on Berkeley street poet Julia Vinograd and as much as he adored her, he kept veering off into long diatribes on Communism. So, his testimony never made it to the film, alas. As one can see from this poem, 'All That's Left', he was passionately politicized, God bless him. We crossed paths many times over the years at various cultural events and I even recited a poem of my own for him while standing in the streets of North Beach. He offered no response or comment afterwards; his face was literally blank. His silent critique felt harsh at the time but I really respect it in hindsight. Everything about Jack was enormous; his physical countenance, his rumpled-come-regal bearing, and that voice...that deep and resonant voice. Even in intimate conversation, it bellowed from his cavernous lungs and immensely embodied spirit.
Yes. Surrender to and know the balancing act of life is death is life is death awareness in a chaotic, beautiful, messy world where we are but a fleeting presence. Act wisely.
"I testi di tutti i brani sono infatti contenuti all’interno dei famosi Arcanes hirschmaniani, in particolare quelli scritti negli ultimi due decenni della sua prolifica produzione. 11 i brani composti dal giovane pianista romano d’adozione tutti ispirati da un unico concept: la lotta alla sopraffazione e la difesa dei diritti umani, come ben dimostra l’acrostico “Human Rights” che si forma leggendo le 11 prime lettere di ogni titolo. Un’ispirazione letteraria, dunque, per raccontare un contesto politico-sociale ben preciso..."
I was acquainted with Jack in North Beach in the nineties and early oughts, he would come out to read in North Beach at Cafe Prague, a regular series organized by the late Mark Schwartz. That scene and that era marched on, but I remember. Jack was poised, humane, generous of spirit, as in the poem.
Lucky you!
City Lights also published Bukowski who was only 13 years older than Jack Hirschman. I'd bet they shared a beer or three.
What a treasure trove of writing came out of San Francisco.
Ooph! Truth.
You inspired this first draft.
I'll continue to play...
We all know how it ends, don't we?
But when the death's breath
fogs one's evening mirror,
condensation embodies
new meaning.
Awesome. And pertinent. Stay safe out there poetic outlaw friends.
"It's just a ride"
Well, yeah
Death takes care of every mess, hope and dream-
unless-
something waits beyond Death,
something unfathomable,
despite Christendom claiming otherwise,
having learned nothing from
credible near death experiences-
who is more in the dark,
Christians or agnostics?
Christians or atheists?
Christians or Jews?
Christians or Muslims?
Christians or ... anyone else?
Jesus said in the Gospels,
take no thought for tomorrow,
for each day has enough trouble of it’s own.
Today is all there is.
Yesterday already happened.
Tomorrow is unknown.
Today, and yesterday, and the day before,
going back as far as anyone still living
has lived in America,
prove Charles Darwin had it backward-
people didn’t descend but devolved from apes-
apologies to apes.
Be that as it may,
a friend reported 4 dreams
from yesterday and early this morning:
1. There was a redtail hawk, a crow, and a raven. They sat upon a branch and looked towards a cloud around a mountain where a storm seemed to be brewing. The crow crossed its head on the right shoulder of the redtail hawk, the raven did the same tapping the redtail hawk on its left shoulder. The redtail hawk flew off into the storm cloud- the eye of which continued to form into a red eye.
The voice of Michael the Archangel said: "And the youngest shall carry the banner forth against the coming storm"
2. St. Peter was managing the Pearly Gates. An archetypal family man in his suit was there and Peter was reading off the things the man had done. Peter finally paused and said "Look here you degenerate excuse for a soul, tell me, did you honestly believe that just because you said sorry every so often you darkened the doors of a church that was enough to receive penance for these crimes against God, your fellow man, your fellow woman, and mother earth ?"
The archetypal midwest family man sweated for a minute and then answered: "Well yeah, if I hadn't said sorry I'd busted Hell wide open. What's your problem ? This death business is a real inconvenience."
St Peter scratched at his beard and said "Bust hell wide open, you say ?"
The Archetypal Family Man said: "Well that was the theory, yeah."
St. Peter felt off to the side, grabbed a lever, and said "Let's test that theory."
The last thing that could be seen of the "Family Man, the Good MAGA"- was his eyes becoming as big as saucers as he fell through the clouds.
St. Peter looked down a few minutes later when he heard the sound of planks and masonry breaking.
St Peter heard a buzzing behind him, it was his phone, and he answered:
"Yeah, don't that beat all, the things some of these sick people are doing, boy is Hell going to have to expand its repair budget. Cause a lot of them are going to bust Hell wide open. I think I'll form a new line..."
3.
I was in the middle of a bamboo grove someone had put down by a bunch of evergreens.
I was a bat. Melchizdek was beside me, and he had taken a smaller form of himself. He said to me:
"Remember that to carry the message forward you must sometimes hang as a bat, fly low as a condor, fly as high as the falcon, prey as the hawk, but never forget your faith and soul grounded in God and his mercy and word. Faith without works is no value, works with no faith little better. Maintain your faith, maintain the work, carry it on."
End of Dream
4.
Melchizedek had this to say:
There will be an election in 2028. There is a future forward. There is a whole segment of the population to afraid to say publicly what they think- which is that a raving narcissist lunatic doesn't have a path to peace, and wouldn't know it if he saw it or if it was disguised as a vagina with a "Grab Me" sign affixed. He and his hold not the future. The future is in the hands of those who will embrace peace, embrace love, live life as the Christ of the Gospels outlined to live life, embrace all- from the lowest of the low to the Kings who they are but the finest. The people with the future and the path to get there are those who balance faith and action, and embrace that which is "GOOD" and give it a future.
Melchizedek patted me on the shoulder and said: "You have your path to do the work, and Donald Trump does not know the first thing of the work. That you find yourself at polar opposites is a good thing. Same for Sloan"
My friend added:
It is 6:35am here. I am going to go help do what I can at the soup kitchen, and have taken down an inventory of the supplies that K-12 students will need and we'll organize to get them(me, my sis, an old Greek orthodox priest who has retired, and three little ladies who are retired teachers).
I can't do much, but I'll do the work.
Years ago, I experienced Jack Hirschman reading his poetry at City Lights Books in San Francisco. Between his thick mane of hair, walrus mustache, and ferocious reading style, he was truly a lion of an artist. I sat at his feet, sketching his portrait, and every time I looked up, his spittle rained down on me. I felt anointed. I interviewed him twice (off camera) for my in-progress documentary on Berkeley street poet Julia Vinograd and as much as he adored her, he kept veering off into long diatribes on Communism. So, his testimony never made it to the film, alas. As one can see from this poem, 'All That's Left', he was passionately politicized, God bless him. We crossed paths many times over the years at various cultural events and I even recited a poem of my own for him while standing in the streets of North Beach. He offered no response or comment afterwards; his face was literally blank. His silent critique felt harsh at the time but I really respect it in hindsight. Everything about Jack was enormous; his physical countenance, his rumpled-come-regal bearing, and that voice...that deep and resonant voice. Even in intimate conversation, it bellowed from his cavernous lungs and immensely embodied spirit.
A revealing and helpful bio from a favorite site on this consummate thinker, writer, and activist:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/jack-hirschman
Yes. Surrender to and know the balancing act of life is death is life is death awareness in a chaotic, beautiful, messy world where we are but a fleeting presence. Act wisely.
Brilliant
https://open.spotify.com/album/1NmgWiGRcZzaGxhQdxAuXx?si=3_L8Zjn2Qruh8By555I4Ng
"I testi di tutti i brani sono infatti contenuti all’interno dei famosi Arcanes hirschmaniani, in particolare quelli scritti negli ultimi due decenni della sua prolifica produzione. 11 i brani composti dal giovane pianista romano d’adozione tutti ispirati da un unico concept: la lotta alla sopraffazione e la difesa dei diritti umani, come ben dimostra l’acrostico “Human Rights” che si forma leggendo le 11 prime lettere di ogni titolo. Un’ispirazione letteraria, dunque, per raccontare un contesto politico-sociale ben preciso..."
Wise without letting on that it's about wisdom he speaks...
Love it.
Thank you for sharing your gift I am very moved