Deer Among Cattle

Here and there in the searing beam
of my hand going through the night meadow
they all are grazing
with pins of human light in their eyes.
A wild one also is eating
the human grass,

slender, graceful, domesticated
by darkness, among the bred-
for-slaughter,

having bounded their paralyzed fence
and inclined his branched forehead onto
their green frosted table,

the only live thing in this flashlight
who can leave whenever he wishes,
turn grass into forest,

foreclose inhuman brightness from his eyes
but stands here still, unperturbed,
in their wide-open country,

the sparks from my hand in his pupils
unmatched anywhere among cattle,

grazing with them the night of the hammer
as one of their own who shall rise.

Poem: "Deer Among Cattle" James Dickey, from his collection "Falling" 1960's
Painting: James Gagnon 41"x 28"

beatific

silver on ivory
que pasa
big toes keep time
thoroughly comme un citroyen
and films not fantastic
realite
listening and watching
earlier, to petit jean
in his mother's tongue
still adept of mind
but poor nonethless
full perhaps only of purpose
and for that pure
like the rippling solo
of Roach
coming up broadway
like a cannonball Adderley
star falling

Poem: "beatific" Robert Lescatre
Watercolor: James Gagnon

pixotic

sometimes they smile
and I see chains
ready to encircle me
invitations to inconceivability
consequences well defined
not incongruous or illegitimate
but equally uninteresting
bothersome as punctuation
in spelled out matters
v-e-l-o-u-r-i-a

Poem: "pixotic" Robert Lescatre
Painting: "San Francisco" James Gagnon

barn star / granite wind

barn star

things we can't do without
where's the truth in that
identities are scrapbooks
clothes and hairstyles
pinned to the surface
dates even have lost
through counted repetition
time like a barn star
fashionable and frivolous
if precise preposterous
things we can do without

granite wind

much dreaming these days
past visions present
vivacious possibilities vying
pour venir prochain
and poorly edited at that
at least the source is known
and distrusted blithely
like the back of your hand
making the same decisions
as my earlier self
and wondering what
beaudelaire would have
for his last meal
if you are going out at
the hands of your own clock
would you want dinner or breakfast
appellations can wait
but usually get there before you
refusing uselessly to be changed
granite under water
sand in wind
all you've seen and done
like a collage of thankfulness
glazed in distance, difference, divergence
framed unwillingly between the
waning waking what do you know
and the probability of disbelief

Poems by Robert Lescatre
Painting By James Gagnon "Maroon Bells" (Acrylic on paper 25inX20in)

Colorado Ave.

"Colorado Ave"
by James Gagnon
24in x 30in, canvas and acrylic





part-time pine street

pink skies crying
white wine and poetical prose
rain in waves
between degrees of decadence
porched solitarily
with thoughts of lifestylish leaps
left steps or long jogs
while the wind brings
sounds from street level
ambitious and homeless
every week another issue
like lou says have a tissue
melodies without microphones
found far from phoenix
where whims while wantonly
d.j. jauntily jams
no longer going over-heeled
notorious and subliminal
wine from lesser grapes last
licked from your 'stache
what does the sky say
tonight when troubles weigh
tonnage and torque turning radius
too much technique to tally
spray painted packaging
poorly purveyed petulance
made in portland
part-time pine street

poem by Robert Lescatre

Saint Pigeon of the City

By James Gagnon

(31x36in. canvas. acrylic, flake, pen.)

"Though they were tall of stature and handsome by their hair the lord god chose them not. But he sent and took me from behind the flock and annoited me with holy oil and made me leader."

passao tiempo

by Robert Lescatre

poetical thoughts
pressed between
sweet somnolence and
competing with potential energy
conservation vs. exploration
does this get accomplished
while my last sunday of the
year slips away
already at pace for pistols
sometimes abound
and bind beauty to pieces
not picked up so much as acquired
like diametrics in your soul
so Descartes can't be discarded
but like many things
time changes truths
along with everything else
in our tiny tour
one, two, three, four

"the wanderer" by James Gagnon (22x15in. drywall. acrylic, ink, charcoal, crayon.)