Afterbeat, a new recording on CD and MP3 for downloads.
Readings:
Wed, Feb 17 at Beale St Bar & Grill, San Francisco, 7pm Mon, Mar 15, Winston's, San Diego, 7pm
Josef Aukee is the author of the poetry collections Town and Country, Where Bright Stripes Go and Hill People, and together with Giles Reaves, he recorded a live production of his poetry show Industrial Strength.
His work ranges from meditations and satirical commentary on
contemporary urban life to the poetry of place. Josef often colors his
live performances with vocalists and instrumentalists who provide
dramatic voices and experimental musical backdrops, using spare
electronic sounds and pop and jazz stylings. He lives in Sausalito,
California.
Town and Country, a new poetry collection, is now available.
Order online from Amazon or by mail by sending $16 (includes taxes and shipping) to:
Josef Aukee PO Box 191586 San Francisco CA 94119-1586.
Also
available at Depot Bookstore & Cafe (Mill Valley, CA) and Habitat
Books (Sausalito, CA) and online at abebooks.com, Alibris, BookSurge
and BooksinPrint.
Photo: Kurt Fashimpaur, Northstar Productions Book design: theengineroom.cc
Buildings and Fields
I can’t count the number of acres in a field, but factories and files I know.
Walk straight into a July cornfield to eye the height of the stalks against my shins, then thigh; an approximate farmer.
I am a letter and envelope unable to reconcile how this tractor and barn— so lost and pliable— became no match against the Empire.
Those long rows of grain— a maze of traditions in all that green; so many miles between buildings, dry earth so far from the water source.
Come January, a big box of brick and mortar rises beside a shuttered house. Acres of the hibernating soil filled with bubble-wrapped gadgets. Safety lights mask open country sky.
So many parking spots— so far from where people live.
Up Above Sausalito
Richardson Bay is lapis when the brilliant pink sky soars above; a canopy for the fleet of sailors.
A cluster of bicyclists clad in bumblebee tights fade into an orange western silhouette. Wisps of waves overturn the buck-naked swimmer.
A dog-walker can see breath condensing on Sunrise Trail. Slips of ruddy wood are dusted salt-gray marking rows of silent sailboats and cruisers.
The golden toned sailors carry their coolers, losing time in the wide deeper blue that hints of an endless spray of dark emerging.
Globes of white lights lining the streets disrupt the years completely changed by mood, history, age and the festivals passed.
Down at the waterfront, conversations start, cars pull up to the boat landings. Fish is had, wine is poured and night has begun.
In every window, imitations of candles: shadows in kitchens, flickering lunar blue televisions, all imitations of the natural light.
All the the jewels are stilled inside, warm beneath the knowledge of the bright simmering day waiting to commence.
Wherever You Are From Now
On the jet stream of the gray sector of a man’s life precariously in flux, Solidified by touchdowns in pliable fields– untamable intrusions are wild underbrush.
The insider outlasting a refurbishing left plain, culpable and leering Decade-old emotions thrown back like fish– cut and wounded, but still swimming.
Early documentation signals final gestures estimating the departure from wherever you are: Civilized and excruciating tentacles have spread again– it’s solid bread and butter stuff.
Reminiscent, notably inconsequential corn-fed confessions on a $350-a-night bed Landed upon after the big leap– Americanized and curved.
Hugging sophisticated cycles when every inquiry, at arm’s length and with a voice that’s all eyes asks, “Will those cold-blooded words run right past the suitable consequences of framing?”
It is a matter of how a necktie moves from the fore on a hanger to the middle– Then to the rear and beneath until it is lost, finding its way as rope for camping, kindling for the fire.
Coming soon:
Town and Country, a new poetry collection, is now available.