K. Curtis Lyle

THE GRANDMOTHER COUNTRY

Jayne Cortez is the last woman standing
In the Grandmother Country an eagle in
Her beak chewing on a mescal worm
She is settled and she is exalted
And hands me these songs in a
Sealed sachet asking only that I sing
Them back and forth to the self 

The gulf between words shrinks a simple
Drink of water is now the meaning
Of my life each want becomes need
If my heart beat disturbs you my
Bliss will dis embowel us both we
Are near and remote so close we
Breathe once OH IT’S A GOOD THING 

The poet bites down on a sound
To compress a scream that’s her mission
She captures a minor key opens density
The prophecy says she must meet herself
In mystery to remain amongst the living
Freeing the mind is not the point
Love’s arms around death is the point 

Lilith is standing between Adam and Eve
A black humming bird drops this verse
And begins to feed I do love
The shape your words take on the
Page like future gourds timbre smoked burnished
Waiting to become Marimba and Shekere wood
Bent metal queued to convert horn drum 

Sun Ra is falling asleep in Ma
Rainey’s lap chanting the Law of Jayne
One heart equals twelve tanks ten fingers
Equals one aircraft carrier A Dexter Gordon
Solo heals more human beings in an
Hour than chemotherapy has in its entire
Chemical history WHAT IS THERE TO SAY 

Chanting the Law of Jayne Bob Marley
Creates a whole mental health system from
The beat of the folk Chanting the
Law of Jayne Duke Ellington whispers one
“We Love You Madly” the transatlantic nation
Rises from the bottom of the sea 
Custom cut threaded heads cocked ace deuce 

Chanting the Law of Jayne Julius Hemphill’s
Leg assembles a series of longue tongues
They steal honey from Grandmother’s inner ear
Through the turbine process of the running
Mouth spread sweetness through the world from
That same ear Randy Weston extracts trimetric
Walls wrapped around a William Parker pun

Chanting the Law of Jayne Ornette Coleman
And Little Walter Jacobs pitch a Wang
Dang Doodle home going party for Jayne
It’s a phat stone topsy-turvy calibrated
Alpha Omega Romeo scintilla plasmatic corona dome
Running amuck while totally under her control
Her mind clarifies the whirlpool of creation 

Chanting the Law of Jayne the elliptical
Rotary motor of her heart rules a
Wave of butterflies resting on the inside
Of soloing Troupes tolling bells she never
Falters as Emilio Cruz assembles a sequence
Of Buddhist meditations in a pool hall
Against chaos pointing to the pole star 

Each beat of her heart is a
Recipe for creation each word a ladder
New kiss under a full moon the
Code is inside the music the decoding
Instrument is the ritual of art and
That is that is that is that
Is that Chants the Law of Jayne 

You come inside you meet God you
Stay out here you are God SELAH

WHAT WATTS WAS LIKE

 

Watts was like a poetry docking station

In deep space

K. Curtis Lyle was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. He is a member of the Original Watts Writers Workshop, joining it in 1966 and becoming part of the Los Angeles Meta Poetical & Prophetic Renaissance that the group continues to represent. He has taught, lectured and read his poems in the major intellectual and urban centers of North America. He now lives in St. Louis, MO.

Since 2008 he and his wife, Colette Salandre, have traveled the world meeting ancient peoples with a focus on their aboriginal folkways, customs, cuisine and knowledge / wisdom. The old acceptors of Peru, native Canada, Mexico, northwestern and southwestern France, Germany, Basque Spain, Scandinavia, the Czech Republic, Bhutan, mainland China and Thailand have provided us with a universal warm embrace and directed us to and through our search for the correct place and time to achieve the understanding of a good life and a good death. Most importantly they have provided us with the sacred techniques and spiritual energy to achieve real escape velocity. They are poetry as the uncorrupted transmission of truth.