Kevin Opstedal: California Poets Part 9, Four Poems

Kevin Opstedal

December 22nd, 2025

California Poets: Part IX

Kevin Opstedal

Four Poems

For Snake Charmers & Other

Fans of Viper Jazz

A preconceived notion of fate

vs the roach of whatever

like virtue or poetry maybe

mutually exclusive but

casually coherent

which may be the point of it all

pointing due north

but we’re headed west

a day late & $32.00 short

expecting to be elbowed past

the Encantadas

& who knows what the

score is there

You sing, I count syllables,

the air just flips & dies

Later it’s all about Mexican fan palms

                        swaying in the sunset breeze

            & the way yr eyes catch the light just so

                                                   cradled in that satin glow

Some things never change although

they are often precariously

altered by the telling

1

Dealing w/slings & arrows

a short detour thru the Anima Mundi

for all intents & purposes

real or imagined

I should have brought a fungo bat

2

raindance birdsong some kind of

cactus flower blink

a muscle memory

3

Back in Tokyo

(I’ve never been there)

I found myself yearning for the sun-bleached

pavement of my native land

empty streets

diving down into the

neon eyes of the sea

the bluish silver-green haze

tied w/a pink ribbon 

One Size Fits All

Floating to the rock

bottomless

empty night of

dream tangled in

highlight reels

so much for the

emotional jingle-jangle,

string quartets & the

hi-ho Lone Ranger guitar hero in waiting

slanting precipitous to that place where

                                    shadows gather & disperse

                        taking on human or near-human form

                                                wrapped in feathered kimonos

& so the voices merge

more often than not

threatening twang & climax

like Captain Nemo & the Rhythm Rockers

plus a truckload of I would if I could

w/all the bells & whistles

1211 Venice Blvd

Nothing really belongs to us. We can’t afford the clutter. If only time would lag a bit between X and infinity. The late-night street traffic a distant pulse. In this zone we are given formulas to sustain crime & divinity. Why not the tropic denial? Streets dark w/ragged palm trees truncated by the fog, lopped off telephone poles, invisible high-tension wires. I was raised in this marooned city, the glow of a lava lamp behind smoked glass framed by Spanish tiles & stucco. Corinthian columns by way of Tijuana. Any given moment doctored the script. Beach town neon pharmacy parking lot. Felt the heat of the midnight pavement radiate up thru the soles of my sneakers. This must be the fourth corner, the one the earth turns upon. It doesn’t belong to us. My ankles are sore. Light played on the surface of the stagnant brown sludge of the canals. That was a memory. It’s all different now. Sherman Canal where I smoked hashish w/a girl who had a broken nose. The sidewalk stained with rust, or blood. Money would change that. Them. The sea breeze stalled out at the intersection of Venice & Lincoln Blvd so that I could cross the street without looking. Heard the wave’s message whispered in a bottle at 3 a.m. the door latch broken & the still night air eaten up by a candle flame. Incense. Nowhere to take it finally. We never owned any of it. The tide shifted. It was too subtle for anyone to notice. No apologies. I remember now, everything has been forgotten. We never asked forgiveness. Slight bend in the streetlights. Sand in yr clothes. Drive by in an old beat-up Chevy looking over yr shoulder. I still consider this place to be home, although it no longer exists. The sound of waves reclaims the distance I have traveled since.

Author Bio:

Born and raised in Venice, California, Kevin Opstedal is the author of over 29 books of poetry including Like Rain (Angry Dog Press, 1999), California Redemption Value (University of New Orleans Press, 2011), Pacific Standard Time (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2016), and Exile on Beach Street (fmsbw Press: Page Poets Series, 2025). He has also authored a literary history of the Bolinas poets, Dreaming As One: Poetry, Poets, and Community in Bolinas, California, 1967-1980 (fmsbw Press: The Divers Collection, 2024). Along with having been the editor and publisher of several little magazines, including GAS: High-Octane Poetry, Blue Book, and Yolanda Pipeline’s Magazine (to name but a few), he has published books by Joanne Kyger, Lewis MacAdams, Jim Carroll, Duncan McNaughton, and many others under his Blue Press imprint. Opstedal currently lives in Santa Cruz, CA.