Darting Doe

I search for it through springs' redressing. Sometimes it comes and other's not. This round however is more hopeful. I can't wait for its colors. I watch listen promote and stop projecting; how could I unconscious or awake create its fascinating motion. It needs no help; it exists. Stand up straight. Be bold brave strong yet careful to learn its primal language through pulsing morse. It just needs a quiet cavalier with which to stroll perhaps dance. Be ready to forward reverse and lift. And again. When sensed a dip a peck then help it to spin

There will be many more bands this year. Let the music lull your mind away and your heart, well hold it in your palm out in front of you as a witness to the nakedness. It will become harder with practice as you strip away the leather each layer softer than the last until it's more like un-webbing a caught humming bird. Breathe with it beat with it sit with it stare into it calm it balm it love it open and 

fly



© Donald Grube, 2010

Fragment, a poem by Dorothy Parker

Why should we set these hearts of ours above
     The rest, and cramp them in possession's clutch?
Poor things, we gasp and strain to capture love,
     And in our hands, it powders at our touch.
We turn the fragrant pages of the past,
     Mournful with scent of passion's faded flow'rs,
On every one we read, "Love cannot last"–
     So how could ours?

It is the quest that thrills, and not the gain,
     The mad pursuit, and not the cornering:
Love caught is but a drop of April rain,
     But bloom upon the moth's translucent wing.
Why should you dare to hope that you and I,
     Could make love's fitful flash a lasting flame?
Still, if you think it's only fair to try–
     Well, I am game.

The Love I Lang

These eleven words hint at our hearts:

Fantasyuniquehumorbeautyred,  

Breathsitnakedsoftcarecurvegrowthhealth,    

Irrational,

Fear,

Daydreambluethoughtgiftreceiverespectappreciate-
     listenspeakreaddoodlewrite,  

Inclusive,

Anglestrongacceptageexperienceyouthsurviveadapt,
Complex,  

Intellectrealvariableobtuseartdot,

Intertwine,
Wholesimple



© Donald Grube, 2010

Here's to Gertrude Stein

I might point out that Gertrude Stein is one of John Ashbery's major influences



© Donald Grube, 2010

Telephone Game

I've just cracked open
John Ashbery's Chinese Whispers
An incredible collection of poetry
So steady, lyrical, talks like
people I know and love
and uses tons of new, exacting vocabulary
He's created his own idiom
through language beats
strung together to make his
own rhythm of
specific non sequitur language
Some of the pieces instigate your
feeling, and side step knowing, and thinking



© Donald Grube, 2010

Just a Heterosexual Striving for Inclusive Paradigms

"I will choose amongst
the varied genders as spring
pops winter's dreaming

Humph!"



© Donald Grube, 2010

Lindy-Hopping Boogieman

I'm scared at night
I leave my touch light on
low just one touch

Sleeping without the protection of love
is becoming a nightmare
I bring my laptop with me
my books of poetry
a new one by John Ashbery
my Grandmother's poof

but nothing helps

I just wish to pass into sleep
painlessly and quickly
so that the Lindy-Hopping Boogieman
has only my fictitious dream maker
to accompany it

If it was ever to
dance by my place of work
or I to see it on a walk at Natural Bridges
with a friend
or turn a corner on the Garden Mall
and spy it talking with a beggar
that would be the end

That
became and
becomes

I've got a 5150 here
Please send back up
Over



© Donald Grube, 2010

This Moment Is Mine

He drinks coffee and eats donuts every morning. Stuffs himself on pepperoni pizza and guzzles beer for lunch and dinner. He likes to sit in his Willys Jeep on West Cliff Drive and stare at the girls, and loves to take long showers.

Or at least,  he used to. Just yesterday.

He ponders.

What did he make that second pot of coffee for this morning? And how much coffee is left. Did he turn the pot off? He thinks about last night's dinner, preheating the oven, and about the buzzer. How much beer is in the fridge? What about PG&E?

The people walking by distract him. He wonders what they're thinking.

I'm fucked for sure! What is happening to me?

I get out of the jeep and start to run along the cliff as fast as I can. My breath speeds up and makes scratchy sounds in and out. A stitch in my side. Soon I stop to catch my breath. Thoughts chase me again. I pace in a frantic, chaotic pattern. Then run. Then pace. Run. Pace. Again.

Pain in my head.

Finally everything goes black.

***

My eyes are wet with tears. In the distance I hear the waves through the rocks and an obnoxious seagull calls out. Cold, calming air passes my nostrils down into my lungs and up out again. 

I am curled up in a heap.

Live
Pulsing
Flesh



© Donald Grube, 2010

My First Letter of Recommendation, Approximately 1979

To whom it may concern;

Donald Grube has been employed by us for 3 months now. I have found him to be dependable, prompt and a very willing worker. Don is also a very cheerful person. Very pleasant to be around.

Lois Huntsmeyer

Manager

Del Taco Restaurant

2015 Mission St.

Santa Cruz, CA 95060



© Donald Grube, 2010

Dohn and Donald Blubbering by Antonelli's Pond

"Will you still love me

even after I rip out your heart

and devour it whole?"

And I say,

"Of course I love you

and always will love you,

Heart or heartless!

The two of us are

redwood saplings,

our roots ever intertwine."



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

P+F: A Jounal of their friendship and need for each other.

12/5/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Layer text in P+F/washes/lots info.



12/2/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Fix P+F plate two.



12/6/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

P+F: get back to abstraction in the images. Make up an abstract language. No real "letters" just moody marks.



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

•  Perhaps Peony and Finn are on their own because of a rift.

•  Perhaps P+F can represent Joanna and me.

•  Perhaps one of my skills is combining draftsmanship, caricature, and imagination.

•  It is my job to take my unpalatable moods and find ways to express them so people can understand them with characters and pictures.

11/27/2005




© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Continue research and development through Peony and Finn.

11/10/2005




© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

•  Finish P+F drawing–allow 4 hours.

•  Two aspects of drawing from mind.

     1     Accuracy of draftsmanship.

     2     What we  know, verbally etc about the image.

•  It's the tension between these two that the chasm of art falls.

•  Draftsmanship:

     1     Accuracy of rendition.

     2     Interpretation.

•  Art lies in the dynamics between.

•  Make Peony a female bald eagle.

• I want to make each drawing and painting, regardless of time spent on it, an example of my total process.

•  Like art history from ancient to now each piece I create is also a microcosm of all art history. The process is an art history lesson.

•  Research dry point etching.



10/3/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

•  Lulu and Bubba snap shot of Leo's art process.

•  Struggle from today on to search for grounding. To stay connected.

•  Don't unintentionally give some one power to "shut me down."

•  Bubba's namesake my cousine, the consummate male: strong willed, linear.

•  I've added a new and challenging environment and time for Bubba to grow in.

8/9/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Peony and Finn/Relaxed/balanced this morning.



9/7/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Peony and Finn are from my head, therefore I must and find myself spending lots of time designing the architecture space.

9/7/2005




© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Peony and Finn playground. I noticed my signature in the last P+F was insensitively placed. Looks slapped on. And that one hidden portrait of Finn... Find a place for it in the next cartoon.

9/10/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

Lulu is all the women I have known that remind me of me. Bubba and all his friends are all the men who remind me of me. Both Lulu and Bubba represent loves, hates and fears of mine.

8/16/2005




© Donald Grube, 2010

Peony and Finn from My Journals

•  New Project:

On going–daily at most, comic strip.

•  Title:

Lulu and Bubba,

Pastimes and Enterprises

•  Lulu is built from curves.

Bubba from angles.

•  Anything can happen in terms of cells and layout.

•  On 9" x 12 " blocked water color paper only in landscape orientation.

•  Hope that the image could remain abstract and what they say and any narration could provide concrete.

•  Periwinkle and another color  F&W ink will be used with dip pen.

•  Day, date, and time each strip but order between pages is constantly shuffled to provide on going process ease.

•  Every page started is part of cartoon and will find its place in series after time. Nothing is thrown out.

•  New Years 2006 will be the first time to evaluate and perhaps depart from these simple guidelines.

•  Wild Blue Yonder and Periwinkle Prismacolor pencil colors  will be used as samples from which to mix F&W ink for project.

•  Both colors will be used freely with Lulu and Bubba images and surrounding.

•  Finger will be used for washes occasionally when absolutely necessary.

•  All drawing and borders and text and washes will be in these two colors.

ª  No white. Only thick ink and dilutions to stains etc.

•  Good title

•  Words or drawing can lead the way in creating each page of the strip.

•  Each strip is confined to one 9" x 12" page.
•  The point of the strip isn't to create a "beautiful" comic strip. It is to discover the lives and expressions of Lulu and Bubba.

•  Listen to what they have to tell me and show me.

•  White page or colored ink can also lead the strip.

•  Photographs can lead (inspire.) Readings the same. Quotations also. Things I might find on the road as well. Anything and everything should lead and be in the strip.

7/26/2005



© Donald Grube, 2010

Quote from Into the Wild

"To call each thing by its right name.
By its right name.
Christopher Johnson McCandless"



© Donald Grube, 2010

I Am African

I am African
Can't you hear it in my lips?
Born in Ndola



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

I Burn with Passions of Success

I burn with passions
of success. Each fire strikes
breathes and hacks to hell



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

Voluminous Words Compose My Latest Obsession

Sleep Dream Eat Exercise Listen Read Recite Perform Direct Collaborate Share Attend Record Research Syntax

Appreciationofallthearts

Journal

Write

Acceptfeedback

Rewrite

Select

Edit

Perhapstheorderisofnoconsequencehoweverthesearethemostworthywords 

Dream Listen

Read Perform Write AcceptFeedback Rewrite Select



© Donald Grube, 2010

Hike with Valentine's Bow and Scrutinizing Probe

Step with fine woman
through Pogonip. Behold, prod
two banana slugs

Ariolimax,

Californicus. Panting,

gunk. Hermaphrodites?



© Donald Grube, 2010

Ebtálos Trac, For John

Trac isséno mose lówal élpeep in carp.
Esenárom, nat tíllwik klaw way beech.
Ro, du stáloff étreop rédnew, sid néwfluen toctérose.
Fistub moselist: Trac ess eb!
Ew reered dárenus, nus ed noom, nin toob boos, ed durms.

***

Ro, Ee neven Trac's nayroségrity sé gri ty, yeenom so spur ednérmos yado sap!
Trac isséno terganérfid, terganérfid! Oze...

Sugs odéssuks,

Eebug



© Donald Grube, 2010

Natural Gazebos

natural gazebos
house Chestnut-backed Chickadees
as I rest below



© Donald Grube, 2010

Five Sensitive Toes

five sensitive toes
working to keep my balance
I feel the earth shake



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

Light House Field State Park

bones are under here
poison oak buds secure site
what did they look like?



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

Ed and Tom, Great Friends

I picked Tom up at 1:30 PM
We decided to walk through DeLaveaga Park
The trails were damp and shaded
But the hike warmed us

The excursion was different than Downtown
The redwoods, ferns, wood blewits and rivulets were soothing
The few dog walkers, mushroom hunters, and joggers were friendly
And we had time to talk or not to talk

After the hike I suggested we visit this cafe
Tom thought I meant another one, less aristocratic
But no, when I found it, Lemoncello was the one
The decorations were suggestive of a small fishing village in Italy

The other cafe, Café Açai, Tom had bad vibes
But my suggestion was to go to both just to see
Açai is a Brazilian fruit pronounced ah-sigh-ee
They sweeten it with agave and freeze it like gelato

The barista gave us a sample to taste, quite zippy
I suggested they got lots of business from the County Building
She said not so much, but she's working on it
I asked her the hours because the shop is right around my corner

We ended our visit shopping at Trader Joes
I bought lunch food for my first week of Spring teaching
Tom had two bags as well
We drove back to his apartment and said good-bye

I hope to get together with Tom on a more regular basis
We offer each other humor, open ears, and warm hearts
Tom is one of my Great Friends
We know each other through time



© Donald Grube, 2010

Moon Sliver

moon sliver glows bright
in the bluing southern sky
waking up the world



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

Anna's Hummingbird

Anna's Hummingbird
revs in eucalyptus trees
suckling of first blooms



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

Jabbering Frantics

jabbering frantics
we exit park to levee
re-meet on footbridge

none knowing future
but resolved to continue
she shares recipe

bound to the boardwalk
we strip our feet naked, white
quench toes in water
 
lollygagging be-
neath pier, we intuit a
restaurant. Fried fish

we linger, draw, write
run home full face in wind, chilled
drink tea, eat cocoa

I  press her feet and
she makes the bed and we lay
soon laughing eyes tell



2009



© Donald Grube, 2010

No Escaping Dweebdom

I took her to the Scottish Highlands,

Just north of Santa Cruz?

I wanted to show her my daffodil farm.

We took Trisket along for the run

and on our way back, as we were facing the sunset,

it was mostly overcast, cool and wet from a recent rain,

I kissed her. 

She pulled away

and I went down.

My chin hit her knee

and knocked her down,

and we both landed in a big wet puddle. 

Trisket began to bark...

"I became a dweeb standing beside yourself," I mumbled, looking around to see if anyone else was watching.

"No. What? I'm just not ready for that, kind of,"

"What about all that wanting to say yes, yes, yes to the world? I thought you meant, something..."

We kept the ball flying around pretty quick for the next couple of exchanges, until we settled down and were both back on our feet. Then we started cracking up. We must of laughed for over 10 or 15 minutes. I helped her wipe the mud off her face and kissed a scrape on her palm.

Then as moinly as could be, she said, "you are a danger to yourself and others, you know? You could be locked up." 

After that there was no stopping us.



© Donald Grube, 2010

The Cross to Remember

When I was older than my younger brother in early life, we would dig holes. Anywhere, everywhere.

Early in the morning we would rise and quickly make our one eyed sandwiches or luftwaffes and head off to work. I approached this work like a job superintendent, making sure of location, and then depth and width, prescribing breaks at regular intervals, always training my team to exceed the low expectations of their young bodies that waited for age to teach them important lessons in life. I was patient but assumed my work seriously. At breakfast I would encourage reviewing talk to prepare them for the sometimes daunting day ahead. During the hard labor there were no gripes, only an occasional, "How much deeper?" or "When is the next break?" And I would considerately but firmly reply, "We are searching for hard pan. I am watching the clock. Do not lose concentration!"

My brother Charlie learned much in those days. He was like Psyche sorting the seeds but without help from the ants. There was no confusing knowledge of how many holes we had left to dig and whether or not there was any hard pan to hit, or what was hard pan? He had a the beginner's mind. Always wondering if a root or stone would inhibit his shoveling and demand a different approach or even more concentration. The key to his success was to love his work unconditionally. Not blaming me or the shovel or root or even the earth for lack of progress. He would simply dig with all his might.

One night I woke up from a bout of lucid snoring and found his covers pulled back and the bed empty. I wondered, was he in the kitchen for a snack, or had he crept into Mom and Dad's bed. Then I heard a sound. I followed the scraping to the back porch. Outside I saw Charlie in the hole working in his pj's. During our afternoon session he had only made it to the depth of his knees but now I could barely see his ribs. I thought, "What dedication. What a sense of determination." I stared at him for quite a while and then went back to bed.

On occasion we would stumble into an old outhouse hole and find cans and bottles. One small bottle I prized was made of triangular shaped blue glass. It was about three and a half inches tall with an owl on it. Later I took it to my youth group leader and he told me that it was an ant poison bottle and it laid on its side to encourage entrants.

The real occasion to dig for me was to find the clay that laid just on top of hard pan. There were precious rocks that filtered down to rest mixed up with this clay. I once strained the clay and made an ashtray in the shape of a mouth and my older brother fired it in his kiln. We were all surprised when it didn't explode.

Before me today I see four rocks and one marble. I see them in my pocket. I see them with the memories of time through the touch of my calloused hands. One represents my heart, one my liver. There is a black stone and a white marble to remind me of night and day. The fifth stone is a layered rock someone told me was whale bone. I carry that because I polished it myself in my rock tumbler.

These items take on different meaning at different times but they all well up at first touch the jealousy of digging with Charlie.



2002



© Donald Grube, 2010

Letter from Donald to Dohn

June 4, 1990

Dear Dohn:

I didn't mean to catch you off guard by my letter. I just wanted to give you a little support, expecially since these last couple of years have been so difficult for you.

It was nice to hear about you grabbing that TD position. It will work out well for you. Nice resumé! Sorry to hear about your showing at Café Chameleon falling through. Oh well, there'll be others. Just go out and sell yourself.

As for my overall purpose in your life, well, that's up to you. What ever you need, whenever you need it, I'll be there. You won't believe  this but you are my hero. I live to the fullest through you. So don't let me down.

As for who exactly I am? Just think of me as a young high school student with his whole life ahead of him. I could go in any direction. And don't think I don't have my troubles as well. I've been through the ringer too. We'll save that part for another letter however. The main point I wanted to make is that you will never be alone again. I am here and will always be here, and will let you know occasionally, when you forget. Incidentally, I know what a bad letter writer you are. So no apologies are necessary. Just keep trying, and living life on it's terms, and I'll be satisfied.

I want to say something profound but I'm at a loss, however, these words once did it for me:

"This is murder!"

"Your telling me."

"Your in the groove, Jackson"

Your friend,

Donald



© Donald Grube, 2010

Letter from Dohn to Donald

May 31, 1990

Dear Donald:

I just read your letter and I wanted to reply while it was still fresh in  my mind. I have so many questions to ask you. Your letter caught me totally by surprise. My memories of you are so faint. It seems like life times since we've talked.

I suppose first off, I want to know why your writing me now? And then secondly, how you knew so much about what I was doing. I must say, your letter certainly picked me up. I could really use more friends like you, if you could call us friends after being separated for such a long time. It's been about ten years hasn't it?

I'm a little embarrassed by the fact that I know nothing about you, or you recently. If you do decide to write me back, fill me in a little. Okay?

In your letter you mentioned something about me being an inspiration to you(?) Well, that's a change. Normally, it was the other way round. And how is it that I inspire you exactly? I've been such a lump on a log for quite a while. I just don't get it!

Anyway, I hope you are well. You sounded pretty chipper. Again, more questions. Where are you living? Are you almost done with high school? How's the tennis team going? Or are you still playing? I could go on forever, but I don't want to scare you off.

Donald, if you want to write again, please do. It would make me very happy. Oh, by the way, the way you signed your last letter, "your friend..." hit the spot. Well it was really nice hearing form you. Take care.

Love,

Dohn



© Donald Grube, 2010

Letter from Donald to Dohn

May 29, 1990

Dear Dohn:

I think your idea about creating a TD position at SCCAT is brilliant. It would show you off well and help the theater immensely. Also, the fact that you would be creating the position would be less stressful on you. Now you've just got to pull it off. Good luck.

The other thing I wanted to congratulate you on is your chance at having a showing at Café Chameleon. Ms. Williams' open acceptance of you and your work must feel great too. I'll be interested in knowing and seeing the specifics of the show:

• How much you charge for each
• How they will be arranged in the café
• How many Ms. Williams will allow you to show
• How you finish the backs of the paintings
• How many of your friends will come to see your brilliant work.

Thank you Dohn for being such an artistic and sensitive inspiration to me. Sometimes it helps just knowing that somewhere out there, there is someone who really does care.

By for now, and good luck.

Love your friend,

Donald



© Donald Grube, 2010

Letter home from choral tour

July 4, 1983

Dear Mom + Dad and whole family.

We are in Wien Austria (Vienna) right now. Last night I waltzed in the Wien Stadtpark and bought a 60 Schilling or $3.50 Coke. The tour is great. Every audience has asked for an encore. The churches we sing in are even greater. There is sometimes a 9 second echo. My German is helping out a lot. Oh, we are going on a guided tour of Wien (Vienna) tomorrow. These guided tours are very helpful in remembering what you have seen.

Also bis später.

Ich liebe sie,

Dohn

Poddle Wid Couple Nock

Poddle wid couple nock
Platelit scam farmers clot
Carbide sketch redwood knot
Shimmer flim cardboard mop

Shattered glib rainbow's holt
Tubers ring flat man's foll
Acreas cod plastic bowl
Tibulai pid Greenly's cold

Elequer jam wet flowla
Peter's whim bound Portola
Ficus minus slippit fud
Trim bates chad gilbbers murda



1980
Poets: Chris Grube and Donald Grube



© Donald Grube, 2010

An objective note on parental influences.

I have two editors. One dead and one alive. They both have an equal share in my gene pool: my father, burned to dust and my Mother still eating, drinking, reading and writing. I have a need to explore their different collaborations and effect on my existence and journal. In other words, I'm nearing a crises again and would like to forgo the bloodletting therapy. However I have an opportunity at my keys to uncover more substance of fact and fictitious songs of beauty.

They made me in their singular methodology of love: my father buying Rototillers and diamonds as gifts  for his wife, and my Mother breaking plates on his head and nurturing the devil out of him in return. They both loved and cared for me and my brothers and sisters. We were all lucky. I don't believe we choose the parents we get in this world's game, and it is not for us to compare and revel or dismay, but to accept and mine and share our parent as gifts, like carved onyx jewels, priceless and omniscient.

So from this journal forth I will think on both parents when either one comes to mind and be more apt to have a trialogue on every subject of interest! For memories are just like real life; they both grow fresh everyday. And for the writing artist, as is for every artist, sparking the imagination is what counts.  So there is no need to perceive these influences, dead or alive, as competing for my affections. Each has the closeness and capacity to shatter my ego if necessary and boost my morale once taken down.



© Donald Grube, 2010

Haemochromatosis Type 1

Today I am pissed
          Okay, I believe you, chill
Fuck you! Go to hell!

Fuckin' ass wipes. Argh!
          What did the doctor tell you?
That it's not my fault

That it's better than
diabites and worse than
STD, I think

Oh, fuck! Confusion
Anger and frustration. Know what?
The treatment is so

Expensive. I've or-
dered these pills from India
They won't be here for
Sixteen working days

          I'm going out to
          Get my pizza. Be right back
          Don't off yourself yet!

***

(Uncontrolled crying)
           (Turns out the lights and makes his
           move. Kissing her neck.)

          There, Mon Petite Chou

The lack of light is heaven

I am black as night

          You are beautiful
          In your pain and anguish, dear
          I can see your heart

          Fluttering for air
I can't breathe. After she told me
I hear this buzzing
Like an air raid in
England. Then walking home I
kept bumping people
Marty, I'm scared to
Death. If this is the end, I'm
Leaving. Traveling.
I'll get my van fixed
Gather some cash, take care of
Loose ends and take off!
Won't you come with me?

          I'm with you now and always
          Just need my laptop

          I'll keep you with me
          Forever. Without you I'm
          just a balloon

(They stare. The room melts
Dreams, purple times flash and tick
All unhinged floating)



© Donald Grube, 2010