G. MACIAS GUSMAN

Root

To transplant a non-native Southern Midwest punk rock Iowan hellbilly with farm-on; in pure creative California terra firma can smack of effort.  And be advice, results well vary.

1. Select Proper Location
Rip off, let’s say—Jack Kerouac and the Silver Surfer, leave a home like Davenport I/A—head for a Mega City like San Francisco Bay with nothing to live for, nil coming your way; but everything will go your way with all the seeds you stole, if you’re willing to grow in the first place.

2.  Dig a Hole
With an impossibly beautiful person; with an unattainable amount of cash flow, with all love accomplishes, with all the disappointment that follows in its wake. Plough a hole: 30 inch by 96 inch by 72 inch, which is a universal measurement in this blessed hell-ride. But dig this big crux; everyone tends to be their own shovel, unless you burn on a cross; so don’t fret. 

3. Thoroughly Mix Soil
Stop running from failed yesteryears, apprehensive banshees, futile fresh starts, the forever last chance. Stand up-right against pushy closet skeletons with their smarty-party mouths.  STOP waltzing away with the dangling second’s minute’s hours and the years as verve in the guts die tender in footprints—waiting on greatness to grow. Turn into something that God has a tough time plucking out of a Mortal Coil.

4. Plant at Right Time
When Abalone shells fail to hold a beguile envisage or when a gyroscopic REM spin and start to gain blistering RPM—start to scratch on hard pillows defiant blue skies, windows and wood pulp with everything you got, get out of aspiration and start to point a finger. Compose fist-hard mordant veracity enthusiastically on the back of a lethargic lover.  Have an uneasy alliance with the quicksilver that hides behind glass; it will show you no weakness if you tell it no lies.  Like sand of an hourglass, time drops from our lives.

5. Drop Seed
Omnipotence: you feel nice in the blue jeans fifth pocket but give me a fat hooter, a big mountain view; when a rain comes, use the heavy silver from storm cloud lining help pay-off the piper sooner.  When you rather Tarantella with a Tornado, be Broke not Broken. Starve as you drive yourself mad, than make another man rich—be a poet. Return to Grace and other Natural virtues.  Plant yourself like #18 rebar (2.257 inches) in Roman Concrete, then blossom into a Mirror, face the Flowering Sun—grow until even that G-Type Main-Sequence Star can’t even look at you through a pinhole projection box.

Dear Reader:
The universe laughs in flowers. Be tethered to its web.  Amble free among monkeys and mice as you stretch for a burning gas ball-bearing like a blade of grass—daydream under a calm—let’s say: Nor-Cal sun, hella baking your Buddha-Belly alongside the dandy lions, black panthers and golden gay bears; as West Coast Troubadours warble on and on about gallant valiant legionnaires in a heyday.  Their tears make roots of a non-native Southern Midwest Punk Rock Iowan Hellbilly with Farm-On to transplant xenolithic in any Californian poppy field side-by-side with the wonderful wild flora that thrives in packed yellowish umber clay and lose poems. No matter the effort it smacks.

For all your fails and try-try-try again’—good luck.

G. Macias Gusman is an emerging Gold Country poet. His big heart, sense of humor, intensity, and courage is the cornerstone of G. Macias' poetry, prose, and fiction. He has brought his love and discontent to many of open-mics in Oakland and San Francisco and has been featured in poetry events like Beast Crawl, Lit-Crawl, Get-Lit, Naked Bulb, and Bay Area Generations. G. Macias Gusman has made it into such publications such as The Borfski Press, The Crazy Child Scribbler, Naked Bulb Anthology, and Bay Area Generations Anthology. G. Macias Gusman lives in Sonora, Ca