signals, pt. 4

It Rained Last Night

Half a Wing

Route 61

Michael

37 Cent Lettuce

Ohio Cloud Mountain

For Tom

Elyria

No More To Make

Ohio Buddha

Watermelon

Air

Cicada Taxi

It Rained Last Night

It was raining in my dream.

There are rivers running to

lakes that need to be filled,

keeping plants and everything green.

Even the dreamworld depends on rain.

Driving a shape-shifting car that glides

and slides on the wet road,

I remember to stop for people

and let them share a ride.

Half a Wing

I found half a cicada wing

in the wet grass, it’s delicate,

finely made as stained glass,

taken off maybe to wash in the dew

before I came along and took it home

to show you.

Route 61

From a distance they look like crows,

then something’s not right, they’re too big.

As the road passes the farmhouse, I can tell.

Three vultures are perched on their roof.

One of them shuffles next to the chimney

like a bent old man in a hot overcoat.

Michael

Michael sits

on the bench

outside Drug Mart

waiting

for a friend.

It’s a small town

people cross

the hot tar

some of them

he knows.

37 Cent Lettuce

A few leafs

packaged

just enough

for a sandwich

wilted soft

and green as

a summer dress

Ohio Cloud Mountain

Going East

the lake on the left

in all that flat

Cuyahoga Valley

the sky needs

something to build

a mountain

made of clouds

For Tom

Tom said

he doesn’t write

poetry anymore

it’s a faucet

that was shut off.

Even so

once in a while

a silver drop

will form

and fall

Elyria

The sun goes down

the windmill is still

the flowers sleep

tilted at the moon

No More To Make

The factory sleeps

rust and mill dust

form new ground

Ohio Buddha

In a garden

with hibiscus

Rose of Sharon

and birds

under the tree

eyes closed

with snails

upon his head

Watermelon

Surprised by a rabbit

in the backyard

eating seeds

under the birdfeeder.

Calm as a pond

it moves on

to the garden

tasting the sweet

fallen pink flowers.

When the sprinkler

starts it slips

into the green

suitcase of leaves

and is gone.

Air

Three bicycles in the garage,

one of them has a flat tire.

I’ll take the bike that doesn’t,

ride it to the gas station

to see if they have an air pump.

It isn’t far, under the cover of trees,

then across the road and along the cracked

sidewalk. There’s a lot of ironweed

growing beside the road, it fills the field.

Because of the name, I can’t help thinking

those tall green stalks could be cut and

bound to make railroad tracks.

When I get there, past the gas pumps,

on the corner where the road turns in,

attached to a lamppost is the air compressor.

A metal box with a hose. It’s free though,

just press a button and air comes right out.

I ride back to the house, switch bicycles

and push the one with the flat tire

all the way to the gas station again.

Past the field, chicory and ironweed

with purple flower smokestacks,

I feel a drop of rain.

From the way the clouds are

building and bruising together

it looks like one of those Great Lake

downpours will be happening soon.

Here’s a detail I didn’t notice

until the return trip. The big sign

with the gas price on the road

says they also sell worms.

What if I went into the store

to ask about that?

It’s probably an interesting story.

Are they grown locally?

How are they kept alive?

I guess that’s what separates

this story from the Pulitzer Prize…

I’m only here for the air.

Cicada Taxi

Off the tar

it clatters

wings rattling

Signals photo, drawings, writing:

allen frost in August 2011, Ohio

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signals, pt. 3

The Vacant Lot

Water and Sand

On Cleveland Road

Walker Road Fawn

Fox Subway

The Cricket Tide

Tibet Repair Kit

Lummi Transit

Giant Eagle

The Tar Baby

Imaginary Letter…

Cleveland Sand Castle

A Factory Cloud

The Vacant Lot

For as long as I’ve known it

filled with unmown grass and wild flowers

by now I guess you could call it a park

Water and Sand

Back when this land was all green running

to the lake, they stayed in old railroad cars

overnight. The scout master told them to be

on the lookout for bootleggers and they were,

following their flashlights to the sound of the shore.

Just like in the movies and comic strips

they saw a blink on the dark water

echoed by one on the land

and they watched as the boat came in.

A truck was waiting and men opened the flaps.

The boy scouts ran back through the trees

with their flashlights off and the branches

scratching their knees. They got to a phone,

they called the police, and it was just like

a show on the radio. But the police took their time

and when they got to the lake, there was nothing

only water and sand.

On Cleveland Road

Houses grow

around

the rusted barn

Walker Road Fawn

Hidden behind a tree

our son could see

the white spots

Fox Subway

I hoped for a chance to see the fox.

Sometimes he appears running along

the narrow treed edge between

their yard and next door.

The neighborhood is linked

by a chain of thin green paths

a fox will follow. They must learn

these routes like subways…

go right at the beechnut,

quick past the pool…

Even now, at 2 A.M,

I might happen to hear

a rush of wind and see

the low orange blur go by.

The Cricket Tide

At night

it returns

and we swim

in the sound

movement

made heavy

we get sleepy

and drown

Tibet Repair Kit

I’m sure there must be a way

to change bad dreams when they happen,

if someone gets hurt or something monstrous

occurs. Stopping the plot, redirecting the way

the movie goes…It probably takes a lifetime

to master, resulting in the discovery that

the same methods can also be applied

in the waking world and life really is

only another dream.

Lummi Transit

It’s a long way from the morning bike ride

to work. Usually I’ll be looking at gardens,

watching for glass in the road, knowing

I need air in the back tire and sometimes,

it can’t be predicted, the white van from

the Lummi tribe will appear.

Now I’m one week later, thinking of

that bus in this place, with a lot of land

in between.

Giant Eagle

Outside Giant Eagle

the parking lot is falling rain.

We stop next to a canoe.

It’s one of those Ohio

flash downpours.

By the time we get

the car doors open,

the rain is done.

We step on lily pads

floating above the tar,

the perch and carp

and silver grocery carts

below.

The Tar Baby

It’s so hot in Ohio today

the tar on the street

melted into a man.

Just looking at him

I feel the same way.

All I want to do is

lay down.

Turned soft

by the heat

not awake

not asleep

unable to move

an arm held out

for a helping hand.

Imaginary Letter to

The Sandusky Register

It’s been a couple years since

I’ve returned for a summer visit

and I must voice my alarm.

Two of my favorite Ohio attractions

appear to be virtually gone.

Where’s the sound of all the birds

that used to wake me in the morning

and where are the fireflies at night?

I think it may be a result of something

you’re probably aware of already,

the chemical poisoning of lawns

and farmlands. Of course we know

the impact this has on ecology,

the food chain, our health.

Nobody really wants to talk

about it, but I have noticed it,

thanks for listening and I wish you

Good Morning, Ohio and Good Night.

Cleveland Sand Castle

Towers and bridges

roads running through

down to the smallest details

abandoned buildings

filled with sand

everything built that way

A Factory Cloud

The heron left tracks

stamped into the sand

with iron precision

Where they stop

look up for

a factory cloud

signals photos and writing:
allen frost, August 2011
hopefully this will be a paper book soon

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signals, pt. 2

Airport Diary

Almost a Cardinal

Morning Light

Making a Fence

Frog Monument

Sweet Corn

Cleveland Road

The Same Radio

Dyed Flowers

Ohio Fairy Tale

6:30 A.M

The Big Birdhouse

The Glenn Miller Orchestra

Airport Diary

1.

5:30 A.M taxi ride to airport, freezing cold in cab

until I see beautiful Mt. Rainier in morning sunlight.

Driver from Eastern Europe mentions it was

a French captain who named the mountain.

“He was a long way from France,” I said.

“When I was a seaman,” he said, “There’s an island

in the Caribbean where Napoleon’s wife lived.”

“Right,” I remembered, “Martinique.”

“Yes!” He was in a good mood after that,

pulling into the airport, “Have a good flight.

In two months, I go back to Romania!”

2.

A long flight…We passed over Ohio. The plane

took us in turbulence to land in Washington D.C.

The place is filled with teenagers wearing

Army backpacks being sent off to the wars.

Reminds me of that island in Pinocchio.

Overheard one boy say, “I wonder if they’ll

have escalators where we’re going.”

We were supposed to leave in a half hour,

but the airport shut down because of

thunder and lightning. We stand in a line

with hundreds of other stranded people for

over 3 hours, only to find out our next flight

is tomorrow at 6:30 A.M. The red digital

wall clock is stuck on 8:88. Fortunately,

we get a sleeping tip—at Gate D-26

there are couches without armrest dividers.

Airport camping, an ideal spot, we have

a bathroom nearby, a water fountain and

‘beds.’

3.

There was also non-stop vacuuming

for five hours, freezing air conditioning

and a TV blaring the news constantly.

Sleeping in ten minute intervals,

face creased by the cushion seams.

At 4 A.M, I finally open the abandoned

American Airlines cabinet and discovered

pillows and blankets. They helped.

When we broke camp at 5:30 A.M

to catch the plane for Chicago,

I was reminded it was my birthday.

4.

Tears and more turbulence.

Our son threw up in my hands

on the way to land. Chicago airport

does have a great brachiosaurus

skeleton, a dinosaur dead for

millions of years towering in

the midst of travelers running

to their planes. For years now

I’ve been wondering about this

air travel business, watching as

the comfort and ease of it

disappears, these great iron birds

are on their way out. Soon they’ll be

entombed on the flat tarmacs,

pressed between layers of dust

and concrete, just as extinct as

that big dinosaur.

5.

Two days of airports, twice going

right over Ohio, missing it. Finally,

after 3 airplanes, we land in Cleveland

at noon. Met with a balloon, flowers

and handed a pinwheel. Out in the car

Ann has a bag of farm fresh peaches.

8/2/11

Almost a Cardinal

Heard a cardinal

only see a red rose

shaking

Morning Light

Turn off

the nightlight

morning fills

the bathroom

Making a Fence

Working outside

distracted by words

in my head

Frog Monument

Cover the dead frog

with flowers and a leaf

knowing that now

life is flashing

from this spot

Sweet Corn

Corn grown

in the background

sold on the table

beside the road

Cleveland Road

Lotus grow in the pond

beside the busy road

watching from the car

the air conditioner on

a white egret lands

sinking in flowers

The Same Radio

Open the window

the moon spins

like a record

Ohio music

crickets

a train

hurrying to

another town

Dyed Flowers

Colors

drain down

long stems

turn the water

unclear

Ohio Fairy Tale

Dear Jill, Will you be my girl?

spray painted on the wall

beside a field of Queen Ann lace

6:30 A.M

On sand

where a heron

stood watching

the sun

The Big Birdhouse

The house is filled with birds

It’s best to find a quiet room

The Glenn Miller Orchestra

In small print on page 14

The Glenn Miller Orchestra

will be in Cleveland next week.

After all these years out of sight

they wash ashore on Lake Erie

suits filled with sand

holding up instruments

with the water pouring out.

They play two shows

in the ballroom at 6 & 9

then return to the waves

where the depths will shut

around and take them back.

signals photo and writing:

allen frost

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Signals, pt.1

Signals

They are

just as real

as those signs

in the air

telling traffic

what to do.

Be aware

watch for them

after all

you know

it’s true.

Everything Thrown Out in the Rain

Piled to the rafters of the sky

dressers and cabinets and

a mattress stacked and leaned

on boxes with broken seams

undone by morning rain

it looks like someone let

their house go out the door.

Then I slow my bicycle

even coast off the road

onto the crackling gravel

when I see the globe.

How could they throw out

the world?

I ride up to it

to give it a look.

Australia with a bruise

an orange ring

around the equator

it wasn’t cared for well

but do they own it still?

Anyway, do I have room

to carry the planet

while I pedal to work?

The Barking Little Streetlight

There is nothing

you can hold onto

past this life

the only treasure

that matters

grows inside

your heart

A Page

Sometimes a poem

stands alone

on a page

even a prayer

is only

paper thin

Sunday Morning Movie

The Maltese Falcon upon a telephone wire

the blue sky around it and morning sun

making its black feathers shine.

Meanwhile down below

Bogart and Peter Lorre

scuffle on the sidewalk

fumbling with a ladder.

Basho, the Japanese Poet

He became a clerk

at the waterworks

counting waves

keeping track

in a ledger

not difficult

but his mind

began to wander

and soon after

his body followed

The Shepherd from Iran

He was going to watch our dog for us

but there is too much going on in his life.

He doesn’t know where he’s going

or if he should be here at all.

He doesn’t know what it is,

right now he’s going through a hard time.

These days he goes for long walks

with his setar or a staff in his hand,

or he just sits in his house alone.

He wonders if maybe it has

something to do with his childhood

when his country was at war.

He could sit on the rooftop and

watch the airplanes bombing.

The people would be told to hide

underground. Instead, there was

an uncle who took care of them,

he would lead the children from town

playing his guitar and singing

as they followed in a dusty line

away from the rockets and explosions

into the hills where the citrus trees

were spun with silkworm tapestries

and nobody out there knew

who you were.

The Pterodactyl

The nervousness about this journey

has taken on its own physical form,

a strange and intricate contraption

hung overhead, constructed from

sharp hinged scrap metal and wire

and trembling like an insect,

kept aloft by more thoughts

and worries. I guess leaving

on a long trip away isn’t as easy

as I imagined. Anyway,

in one week we’ll be in Ohio,

the fearful contraption will be

shrunk to the size of a buzzard

and by the time we get back

and everything’s all right,

it will be small enough

to be bound in a little plastic ball

sold in the dome of some 10 cent

candy machine.

14 Species of Woodpecker

I don’t get to my friend’s house often enough

but whenever I do, I have to pass through

the garden full of vaudeville plants and

genuine bric-a-brac lining the path

before I’m at the door. I stand there

and I can’t help but laugh because

I know him and I have to think of

something to say after I knock

and he opens the door.

Last time I was there,

he kept me standing outside

for a while. It was lightly raining.

Finally, after I’d been through

14 species of woodpecker,

he seemed to hear me and

opened the door just a crack

to observe the gray light of day,

the rain and the person on his doorstep.

“You been out there long?” he asked.

“Only since last night,” I replied.

The Swallowtail

It’s easy to imagine

that’s a little person

with black and yellow

wings attached and a

lifelong love of flowers

Wildlife Report

3 deer

1 bald eagle

3 ladybugs

1 swallowtail butterfly

1 spider in the bathroom

Looking Forward

Looking forward to

morning walks

going to Lake Erie

feet in the sand

then to that beach

the Atlantic pours

across

The Blue Spoon

I saw it in a dream

on the rim of a well

made of porcelain

writing and drawings

signals photo:

allen frost

Read More

Signals, part 1

SIGNALS: Allen Frost

Signals

Everything Thrown Out in the Rain

The Barking Little Streetlight

A Page

Sunday Morning Movie

Basho, the Japanese Poet

The Shepherd from Iran

The Pterodactyl

14 Species of Woodpecker

The Swallowtail

Wildlife Report

Looking Forward

The Blue Spoon

Read More