Jeff McKim resides in Felton, California. He began writing and publishing poetry while in college in the 1970s. Mr. McKim graduated from Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo with a degree in English. He currently refers to himself as a "soccer dad" and software engineer. Mr. McKim's poetry and reviews have been published in print and on the web.
"The light dove cleaving in free flight the thin air,
Facing the ocean from Point Sur
I want to dance with small
Hope bridging
Hope bringing
Imagination
No moment existing
Without touching
I suppose its growing darker
whose resistance it feels,
might imagine that her movements would be
far more free and rapid in airless space."
- From the "Critique of Pure Reason" by Immanuel Kant
Translated by JMD Meiklejohn
Wind blows hard and cold from seaward
Waves blown out by a north wind
Destroy themselves against
Rocks and cliffs
Great dark clouds race inland
In this place, these are the only
Definition of time
Truths, the fear and trembling in
Each moment
Moment to moment
Imagination
Bringing time
Without being
Without being touched
I suppose its time to go
Collar turned up
Against the wind
I watch as my feet take me
Down off this mountain
At the bottom of
Each wave finds its place
The moment of
I turn up my collar
Tongues lick cautiously
The Davenport cliffs
Gray evening sky
Dissolves into night
On shore after
Crossing an ocean
Darkness blows from
Seaward, sudden chill
Carried on salt air
Against the night wind
Strike the match
Light the tinder
At dry wasted lumber
Until all is consumed
In flame
An old Chumash Indian told me once
Moving bulls from
He went on that when he was young
To control the bull, the hand only had to
Still yet,
That the fight has been bred out
of modern livestock
Pasture to pasture for breeding
is now easier, safer
They could control the wildest bull
By putting a ring through the soft tissue
Of the animal's nose; a short, fat rope was
Woven through the ring (this when the animal
Was still young and manageable)
Touch the rope. Any bull
Understands the consequence.
In the beast every muscle taut
Eyes red swollen, trembling, focused
On the small thing standing
In front of him, not seeing
So much as knowing of the rope
And just one hope in all:
If the rope falls
1.
Next morning
Waiting for wind
2.
Ripple of rolling snow
Briefly up the opposite canyon wall
Then unperceived quiet
3.
I pick through fallen trees
Sweat stings my eyes,
What was this place
What was it
Storm colder than usual
Dropping many feet of powdered snow
The unstable snow mass
Is still, quiet in early sun
No more than breath,
Touch soft as hands
Accidentally brushing,
Sound exactly equal to
An involuntary cry of
Surprise, ecstasy or pain
Unknown antecedent
Flakes interlocking,
Changing balance
Revealing a hidden weak seam
Sound like a breaking bone
A Tidal wave of
Frozen powder
Lunges forward
Gravity pulling downward
Almost a mile of
White white crashing
Toward the canyon floor
Hurricane wind
Then a roaring
Wave of raging snow
Compelling everything.
Denouement of the brittle cracking of
Frozen tree limbs,
Enough silence between noise
To hear echoes,
Roots torn free,
All patient and carefully arranged Biology
Pulverized to randomness
Like cloud covered midnight.
In the eastern Sierra Nevada,
Matterhorn Canyon lies
Behind a twelve thousand foot
Wall of pure granite
Uprooted, thrown and shattered
Seeming miles of debris
Left from an avalanche
Winter of '85
Legs tremble from climbing
Over tree remnants,
From walking around those
That can't be climbed
Before the fall
Of ice and earth
Without the dismemberment
Of order
All text and images in The Central California Poetry Journal are copyrighted. Copyright by © by Scott Galloway 1999. All rights are reserved. See main Journal page for
copyright information.
Authors and poets submitting original materials to this journal retain all rights to their
original work, except those rights specifically assigned in writing to Solo Publications including the right to publish the submitted work in The Central California Poetry Journal. The poems on this page are copyrighted by the author. Copyright © Jeff McKim 1999.
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