Painting: "Beacon" by Laura Young | Poem: "Light on Oil Can" by Jane Vincent Taylor

Light on Oil Can

Light doesn’t hit the can until about noon.

Inside, the oil smells earthy, ready for a wheel or cog.

Grady gave an oil can to his younger cousin, Keno.

Here, buddy. Every kid needs a can and a red rag in

The garage in case of rust or other calcitrance.

Oil on canvas. Light on Oil Can, the painter calls it.

Note how sienna mystical surrounds the copper practical.

Ouspensky, who didn’t know the working life,

Insisted:  Man is a machine most days.

Light all afternoon illuminates the spout and trigger.

Can you hand me the oiler? Keno asked.

All the while meaning make yourself useful, girl,

No hanging about the shop looking at light.



(The above painting and poem were first published by Still Point Literary Arts.)

"Autumn On the San Marcos River" by Oscar Houck

Autumn On the San Marcos River

To live this close to

the consolation of moving water is

to be given the keys to a cathedral where

the day’s last light drifts down through the branches of bare trees

like mist, to the mirror of the surface

in silver and cerulean blue ripples reflected as if

stained glass windows made of clouds and sky

had fallen, softly shattered, from above. The air today

is fine, cool and crisp and dry, the smoky scent

of fallen leaves, the past, the hint of winter to come.

Yellow gold, the color of Van Gogh’s wheat fields

flashes like lightning beneath the surface

over limestone, sand and shadows.

There is no greater beauty than what’s clear and cold.

"What Happened in Town" by Oscar Houck

What Happened in Town

December’s wan light falls into the well of dusk and

all memory of warmth fades with it into the mountains.

The few words we shared, lost in the distance between

the blue-lit cab of this truck and the silence of stars.

The half-frozen river stretches alongside the road,

ghostly gray gauze over what’s managed to keep flowing.

Like the breath of incense rising from the horses in the barnyard light,

some prayers go on and on, unanswered.

The unpicked apples have fallen with the frost.

The dogs on the porch dream together, sleep together against the cold.

"Returning to Earth" by Oscar Houck

Returning to Earth

It’s not hard to believe

my dog is a small god

leading me, at four in the morning, into this winter field.

It’s where she wants to go,

and isn’t desire holy?

The furrowed earth beneath my boot heels,

is soft enough to keep the silence.

Moonlight falls around us,

wraps us in her silver shawl.

A diaphanous frost glows back,

tiny frozen stars sparkling up from the ground.

Those stars, the sky, the field, it’s

all moving, spinning through time,

despite the illusion of stillness.

Sadie, my sweet girl,

I’m as awake now as you are,

the two of us walking and riding,

on this ocean of land and sky.

I’d like to take us out farther

to the ghost trail in the stars,

but I’m only a man with a dog,

her nose to the ground.

She knows better than I do,

this is enough,

this here and now.

Enough to be wondering

like children,

what comes next?

What we can see

is each breath in front of our faces,

white prayer flags unfurling

into the night,

each prayer answered

by the one that follows.

"River Valley Psalm" by Oscar Houck

River Valley Psalm

Down in the valley,

it’s the magic hour.

The day’s last light slants in from the invisible sun that’s

swimming now in the Pacific,

spattering gold on everything it touches.

Whitman’s leaves of long grass

and the trees walking up the mountainside

seem illuminated from within.

The river carries away the last of the world’s loneliness,

strung out along the shining silver length of its back.

Benevolent, merciful

darkness pours up from the valley floor,

smoke from the flame at

the dimming of the day.

All of it rising

into the thin silk veil

of pale blue night,

bashful and blessed

by the silence of stars.

"The Deer" by Oscar Houck

The Deer

All day I wanted you

and all day you weren’t there.

So finally, I went out walking.

The deer I saw under the twilit trees

was a blue silhouette against

the fading day and the coming night

engaged in their hushed code of exchange.

I wanted to be inside the quiet of the deer’s body,

listening to the silence at the edge of the woods.

The surface of the lake was still,

a mirror for the first few stars

burning through the cloth of night.

The blue deer darkened to indigo and

disappeared into her shadow.

In the distance

between desire and clarity,

your voice,

honey and bourbon and smoke,

filled an empty room.

And that room

in a house

in a country lost to me.

"Aubade – The Light of What We All Are" by Oscar Houck

Aubade – The Light of What We All Are

                for the community of Wimberley,Texas

                                    

Months after the flood, dead, leafless trees

still strewn along the banks like

matchsticks from God’s careless hand.

Two children gone, disappeared.

An overturned picnic table,

a dirty pink sweater,

a mud-filled pie tin,

someone’s journal of all things,

its ghostly ink, faded black to purple, then lavender, then sky blue,

this morning’s pale blue.

Set the pages on fire and watch their

secrets rise on the smoke, which

the wind blows into thin air, into nothing.

What is it that endures?

The bright crimson flame of a cardinal

calls out right here, right here, as if to mark the spot.

And my soul can’t help but sing back softly

to the gift of the river’s rising light,

the light of what we all are.

4/13/2016

Truck's new driver for October 2016

Many thanks to Tero Hannula for our whirl through September!

Please welcome Laura Young, who will be taking the wheel for the month of October.

Truck's editor/drivers, past, present and future, as of October 1, 2016

Present

Laura Young

Future


Nov. 2016 -- Ric Carfagna
Dec. 2016 -- Philip Garrison


Past

Apr. 2011 -- Kate Schapira
May 2011 -- Wendy Battin
June 2011 -- Frank Parker
July 2011 --  Skip Fox
Aug. 2011 -- Ken Wolman
Sept. 2011 -- Michael Tod Edgerton
Oct. 2011 -- Kelly Cherry
Nov. 2011 -- Andrew Burke
Dec. 2011 -- Lewis LaCook

Jan. 2012 --  Larissa Shmailo
Feb. 2012 -- Gerald Schwartz
Mar. 2012 -- Jukka-Pekka Kervinen
Apr. 2012 -- Lynda Schor
May 2012 -- David Graham
June 2012 -- Lars Palm
July 2012 --  Elizabeth Switaj
Aug. 2012 --  rob mclennan
Sept. 2012 -- Georgios Tsangaris
Oct. 2012 -- Douglas Barbour
Nov. 2012 -- Dirk Vekemans 
Dec. 2012 -- Erik Rzepka

Jan. 2013 -- Alan Britt
Feb. 2013 -- Mark Weiss
Mar. 2013-- Mary Kasimor
Apr. 2013-- John M. Bennett

May 2013-- Orchid Tierney
June 2013--Victoria Marinelli
July 2013 -- Volodymyr Bilyk
Aug. 2013 -- David Howard
Sept. 2013 -- Philip Meersman
Oct. 2013 -- Chris Lott
Nov. 2013 -- Alexander Cigale
Dec. 2013 -- Catherine Daly

Jan. 2014 -- Maria Damon
Feb. 2014 -- John Oughton
Mar. 2014 -- Colin Morton and MaryLee Bragg
Apr. 2014 -- Alan Sondheim
May 2014 -- Glenn Bach
June 2014 -- Bill Pearlman
July 2014 -- Edgar Gabriel Silex
Aug. 2014 -- Jerry McGuire
Sept. 2014 -- Karri Kokko
Oct. 2014 -- Márton Koppány
Nov. 2014 -- Anny Ballardini
Dec. 2014 -- Chris Lott

Jan. 2015 -- Marc Vincenz
Feb. 2015 -- mIEKAL aND
Mar. 2015 -- Eileen Tabios
Apr. 2015 -- Crag Hill
May 2015 -- Rudolfo Carrillo
June 2015 -- Gwyn McVay
July 2015 -- Matt Margo
Aug. 2015 -- Volodymyr Bilyk
Sept. 2015 -- Stephen Vincent
Oct. 2015 -- Maxianne Berger
Nov. 2015 -- Alexander Jorgensen
Dec. 2015 -- Jane Joritz-Nakagawa

Jan. 2016 -- Michael Rothenberg
Feb. 2016 -- CL Bledsoe
Mar. 2016 -- Paul Sampson
Apr. 2016 -- Lynda Schor
May 2016 -- Allen Bramhall
June 2016 -- Joanne Howard
July 2016 -- Larry Goodell
Aug. 2016 -- Lori Horvitz
Sept. 2016 -- Tero Hannula