RON JANOFF began writing performing and publishing poetry in New York in the 1970’s, took a long hiatus as a Director at New York University, earned his Ph.D. there, went on to teach Latin in Brooklyn high schools, served as President of the New York Classical Club, and became a licensed New York City tour guide. He came to Chapala in 2018 with his wife, the artist Diana Leidel, as part of the 360 Xochi Quetzal residency. He takes up writing poems where he left off–sometimes direct, sometimes collage, frequently lyric, often ironic, mercifully brief. He can be reached at chiron.nyc@gmail.com.
After A Flood
Fatigue pervades my whole being
I crave some cheap contrivance to restore
My equilibrium before this fragile body
In every point down to the smallest pore
Takes the next voyage on the same tide
We should be free be happy be open
After the deluge we witnessed today
Hasn’t the first moment of a golden age
Arrived with us at this edge of survival
Where time itself enfolds its own divide?
Let no heedless act of absent-minded
Cruelty betray our senses’ dance
Or sting our souls with empty compromise
We must embrace the mystery that lies
Inside the dreamless cruise ahead
*****
After returning from the moon,
an astronaut walks down 73rd Street…..
Music of the ripe moon under my feet
Ten thousand voices rise in unison
From phantom tiers
Carved in a granite crater
What is it they’re singing?
That Japanese folk tune
The one about the man with no space
Between his teeth
“He could not tie his shoes
He could not buckle his belt
Etc…”
I feel no part in the grand design
*****
After Sappho
[…] lying by your side,
my arm rests
on your shoulder
for a moment I believe […]
have I awakened […]
I am […] lost in heavenly […]
Not […] You turn […]
Whether [,,,] but never ….
*****
At Four The Breeze Freshened
The heat dropped out of the wind
We were cool at last
We ran our hands in cold water
We took off our shades
Silence followed on sundown
A flock of dark birds veered away
Clouds covered, then moon revealed
Somber mountains far off
Doubt threatened us then
Not about food or darkness
But the justice of nature
And the vector of affections
We laughed it off
And the boat shook gently
But later we shivered
Rattled by immensity
*****
Carpe Diem
How open should the passage be
From the beautiful to the brain?
In the sky far and wide as dawn
Presses into the early breeze
So a hint rises into consciousness
We wake like children again
Into the raw excitement of sunlight
Smiling as we entertain the day’s
First best thought: Sublime
*****
Day’s End
We reach a river bank roughened with scanty grass
Not enough for the animals but fine for a quiet scratchy seat
The sky is closing down; we can’t stay long
a late storm will swell the flood and drive us back
Of two worlds one is myself the other all that is about me
not Paradise by any means but both command sensation
The sound the scent of summer: rain that nourishes the soul
And lo, that rustle in the woods, a goddess hovering near
Some moments seem to count for nothing in the grand design
Yet who knows? In the end it’s light and moves away, the rain,
so we stay for moon-rise and I feel the evening
knit the cosmos and myself together once again
*****
For Neil: Arms-Strong
Man first went
to the Moon
during the Tang
Dynasty in truth
the first great step
was in reverse:
to bring the moon
to man not with
the naked
but the inner eye
moon in the lake
harvest moon
moon rise at evening
moon of the tropic night
moon glow, moon flow
moonlight in Vermont
full and half
and crescent moon
and man,
man in the moon
in the man
Which one did you
land on? wrong–
which moon
lands within your
face and heart
and soul? the moon
we walk not on
not over
but in the gracious
saving light of
*****
Half-Sonnet: Metamorphosis
I feed on common cabbage like any caterpillar
Knowing the summons will come for translation
A moment when I will turn inward and depart
Calmly obedient to sweet whispers of nature
I will follow a trail of everlasting summer
Out of my intimate cocoon into glorious air
A better life a higher life fed on milkweed, brief
*****
In Mexico We Learn That Rgb Has Died
as we draw near to our destination
our adventures blur into uncertain outcomes
so now yes at last a door but only
darkness behind it. Should we turn the knob?
what if in a moment there would be some
astonishing transition from comfort
to such distress that all that’s gone before
gets scraped away beyond imagination?
her silent heart does not light up the air
her quick mind slows word by word to a halt
then night falls a stiff wind rises with thunder
a Great One passing – in this storm – has passed
what breaks loose is chaos and distress not
sorrow: for the loss exceeds capacity
as when what was merely difficult becomes
impossible – it wasn’t – now it is
*****
Leaves
If the land belongs to me
and the wood belongs to you
who owns the leaves?
And who gave the birds
a lease to weave
those homes each spring?
The children think the shade
is theirs.They sing, they jump,
throw rubber balls, they leap.
For them it’s all a frolic
innocent of the deadly grip
of real estate on games.
O parents of birds and kids
one glance should be enough
to provoke a cautious agitation:
when a wind from out of nowhere
makes the tottering trees–drunk
on air–release their dividends
*****
Mad Love: Yellow
suffused with sunshine
my kitchen is painted yellow
I find that a lover
who has a short temper
almost always loses it
inside this yellow kitchen
becomes much more wildly
nuts in this house where
golden yellow walls
enclose us both in all
*****
Next Year’s Punctuation
A ban please on apt remarks well wishes and pertinent observation
And please no names that resemble words or sounds that sound like names
A taboo too: please call it treason to invent new terms that mimic old
I’ve had vocables enough to last a lifetime’s diction, spit, and elocution
Please stop choosing the right word just let that word choose you:
Invention investment inversion invective inane insane insatiable indeed
Just leave your card in the bowl by the door I pick them up at random:
Retired detectives, astonished shepherds, runaway socialites, and you.
*****
After he retired and moved to Sedona, Arizona, he taught literature at Yavapai College in Clarkdale, Arizona.
He and professional artist Bev Kephart bought a small motor home in 2003, sold most of their possessions, and traveled the U. S. for seven years. After visiting Mexico several times, they settled in the village of Ajijic, joining the ex-pat artist and writing communities.
Mel’s writing has been published online and in print in The United Kingdom, The United States, Mexico, New Zealand, and Australia. He is the author of three novels, a book of short stories, and several books of poetry. He and his wife now make their home in the village of San Nicholas de Ibarra.
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