C. K. Tower


Do You Remember Me Santa Barbara?

“Let me escape the smells and cages here...”
- Berryman

No streetlights, or moon, another obtuse
afternoon in January. All’s well,
if well can be stretched to include weary.
I can only smell snow, long gray blankets

that used to outshine the sun, soiled by
passing cars...they rush to nowhere. The dog
has made a settlement with the carpet,
it lies still, as he sighs through his dream...

where’s he running, on sloped and narrow trails
to grand rivers, or dense woods carpeted
with abandoned jewels from oak fingers?
He doesn’t know Pacific waters, or

ocean-front mansions, adorned with Spanish-
style ambiance. I read of them in
a letter from my mother, mourning for
great lakes...what was she missing there? Read of

jasmine, and cattleyas, blooming between
the lines of one man’s verse. A bittersweet
song, the solitude of flowers...lonely
fragrance. Only rain to replace missing

notes, from four lost seasons...no harmony,
but a singular hymn of wondering.
I hear it in snow, reorchestrating
austere measures, new melodies, sung here.


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