Bill Cushing's Potpourri

Photo by Chris -- 2009
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/

With this title, I think I must be watching too much Jeopardy! this summer.  Tonight I am posting a non-driving poem and several poems about water, all by Bill Cushing.  Even though the non-driving contest ended, as a non-driver, I am always happy to receive poems in this category.  I am also happy to receive poems about water as well.

RIGHT ON TIME

While waiting

at the bus stop,

he approached,

asked for the time.

Once told, he recited

the bus schedule

            within that time frame

for both lines

that run

past here,

plus

where they meet the outgoing driver.

“But I never really depend

on either one,” he said,

forgetting, I suppose,

that it was he

who asked me

for the time.

-- Bill Cushing

AT A MOUNTAIN WATERFALL

water slaps

my face

forcing my eyes

shut

as we climb

            crablike

                        scuttling

            platform

                        to platform

            along the rocks

that form         an opening

not more than   a half-foot across

                           and

from that six-inch

                        aperture

                                    water

                                    shoots

                                                out

                                                and

                                                down

rocks

            run

            in steps

                        handholds

some jut out with

holes    in them

vines crawl

down

and—nourished by

                        water that

            splashes

                        runs

            pounds

                        and

            flows—

begin to

take root

as they

touch

down

on

another base of rock

holding a stone

shaped

like an ax

blade

as big

as my hand

and as thick

and

almost as flat

except for one

hard wart at

the broader end

           

other men

might have been

here using rocks

like this one

chipping them into tools

and weapons

this island

reminds one

of all things

primitive

-- Bill Cushing 
The poem above first appeared in Barbaric Yawp, and it is also part of Bill's book, Notes and Letters.

PELICANS

Slowly circling,

the pelican

drops like a stone

into water.

Then climbing the

air, he stops, and

with a single

motion of wings,

glides on the wind.

-- Bill Cushing

SAILING

            for Joseph Conrad

I have always taken

the four a.m. watch:

those three hours before dawn when,

inhaling the moist sweetness

of a new day, we awake

and escape last night’s darkness,

leaving technology

to experience

quiet and primitive satisfaction.

The ocean rushing underneath,

its volume

dependent upon current hull speed,

spills a phosphorescent wake —

the only natural source of light

besides the moon.

Rolling up and down,

swaying into balance

on the balls of my feet while

cradling the warmth

of a mug’s contents.

Soon

an orange sliver appears

and grows, as the sun

finds the seam in the weld

that fixes sea to sky.

-- Bill Cushing

The poem above appeared in River Poets Journal and the UK anthology Along the Shore. 

If you go to this link, you can hear Bill read "At A Mountain Waterfall":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKQ3wG6mQ3s 

Here is his "Pelicans":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pg-_KA2liKE

To listen to "Sailing (for Joseph Conrad)," go to this link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQymn92EFxY

I had meant to post a video of "Music Isn't About Standing Still and Being Safe":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odMJPXePsn4

To finish up, here is some Afro-Peruvian jazz!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07vv6u5noPU

This video was actually recorded in LA:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qm5FWxhm1vE

I'll conclude with Tony Succar's TED Talk on Afro-Peruvian music:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keboPv6ZAvE

Enjoy!