From poet Charles Atkinson, a tribute to Santa Cruz writer James Houston.
Unspoken
for James D. Houston (1933-2009)
Like this: I’m spading up the garden,
no idea his last breath’s puttered out
from one dark spadeful to the next.
It’s work. It’s hot. One day later
I’m running a hand over yesterday—
incidental things: the soil caked
from rain, surface bleached, turned-up
earthworms, twisting laces—pink.
Did his tangled eyebrow twitch?
Did he swallow? What I didn’t know.
Here’s the beach he walked. Heat
contorts the shoreline—throbbing cliffs.
Dead surf scoter washed up. Not him
ambling up the sand, waving.
Stranger with a singular gait—rolls
like him to the left. Wouldn’t see him
for years, then a bass chuckle,
huge hand clamping mine, confidential
eyes, “It’s one Great Joke, my friend,”
arm on my shoulders, “I’m dead serious.”
Pelican skims the breakers, riding
thermals. Just to know he was here,
brooding over the bay—fathomed
himself day after day, trusting
words would come. It’s almost enough.
Charles Atkinson’s first collection, The Only Cure I Know (San Diego Poets Press), received the American Book Series award for poetry; a chapbook, The Best of Us on Fire, won the Wayland Press competition. A third volume, Because We Are Men, was awarded the Sow’s Ear Poetry Prize. His most recent collection is Fossil Honey, from Hummingbird Press. He has also received the Stanford Prize, the Comstock Review Prize, the Paumanok Poetry Award (SUNY Farmingdale), the Emily Dickinson Award (Universities West Press) and The Ledge Poetry Prize.
‘Santa Cruz Poets, Santa Cruz Inspiration’ is edited by Robert Sward. Contributions are by invitation.
