Daily Prompt 11/24/15

I sit with Marvin Gay on Georgia O’Keefe’s porch in Abiquiu.
We listen to Billy Collins recite his poem,
Taking off Emily Dickenson’s Clothes,
reminding us that life is a loaded gun.

Ted Hughes wears a precarious smile,
a bossy wind ruffles Sylvia’s hair.
Billy Joel riffs behind the black door.
Diana Ross scat sings with Lady Day,
tossing random syllables at bleached bones.
Georgia mixes adobe red and ocher for Frida
who paints herself in frontal pose,
a crown of thorns around her neck.

There’s a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on in the courtyard
where the boys in the band are jammin’
where John Coltrane lays sheets of sound
where BB King lets Lucille do the talkin’
where Satchmo grins a rainbow of teeth
where Ringo kicks in the backbeat,
and Jerry Lee Lewis rakes his hands across the keys.

Later Pavarotti and Sting braid strains of the Angelicus,
send them off on the katabatic wind.
There are more poems from Billy,
Donald Hall and Mary Oliver,
Arthur Miller revises the script for All My Sons,
sips his nightcap cigarette.
A shower of meteors arrives like fan mail.

Faces tilted toward the moon,
we count stars over Chama Valley.
Julia Child brings out platters
of Champignons Farci and Salad Nicoise.
The Creator joins us at the long plank table
and we lift our glasses with Her
to honor the art written into our inheritance,
priceless leavings of the past.

I tell Her I know what Heaven is all about.



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