The Ya-Ya Room Poem by Sam Mauzy

Veramente quant'io del regno santo
ne la mia mente potei far tesoro,
sarà ora materia del mio canto.

The stage is set in glare of coastal day,
A beach in sensual summer on display,
This ville has rights for come what may.

Ashley
Judd fled here in
Hollywood sisterhood
And at night on deck sought divine
Secrets

By God;
She looked up and beheld the stars,
Felt earth roll its orbit,
Spinning the day
Away.

Go while you can said the old lady next door.

And from this secret place you can see clear
From tiny fishing folks on the solid concrete pier
All the way down to surfer dots at the inlet there.

Vacation people come and go,
Drag and carry beach cargo,
Speak not of Michelangelo,
Visit only for the show.

A silver gull serenely sits and eyes the passerby.

Binoculars seek lovely lines, artistic forms,
Sweep the spread of blankets, thicket of umbrellas,
Follow the coastal curve to hazy distant stacked rooms;

Is anyone there now looking here asking:
Is anyone there now looking here?

Stand still awhile and watch; see the dance?
Sit a spell and listen; hear the music?
Are we in it or it in us?

A metal detector goes back and forth, back and forth.

A motorboat off shore, on board two boys;
They hit a roguish wave and one falls out,
The other, too, when turning back unpoised;

The craft with engine on runs roundabout;
It circles off the beach and draws a crowd;
The Coast Guard picks up teens, we shout

Hooray, well done; they made us proud;
Then watch them try in vain to snag the boat,
Which finally runs aground, unbowed.

Vacation people come and go,
Drag and carry beach cargo,
Speak not of Michelangelo,
Visit only for the show.

The boat went round and round; it dipped and soared;
Its wet ballet enthralled the throng ashore;
The Coast Guard crew were not impressed and left
The little boat when it had beached, bereft.

The camera crowd retreats to blankets, chairs, and frisbies,
Or jumping waves and wading with the kiddies.

A single engine plane chugs a pizza banner above.

Cell phones text wish you were here, transmit
Faces in the sun and scenes of seaside fun,
Call home for latest messages, play a tune,
Cruise away the afternoon.

A dragon kite climbs and dives.

O how this place accelerates the clock;
The time as light as lint, quick as an ice cream cone.

Is time in us or we in it?

If only headphones could snag the Schubert sky,
The Bach awash in breakers foaming fugues,
The seashell jazz, and terns of rhythm and blues.

A sailboat eases by on rocking chair swells.

Vacation people come and go,
Drag and carry beach cargo,
Speak not of Michelangelo,
Visit only for the show.

Go while you can said the old lady next door.

All of us old salts,
Born in oceans, crawled on land,
Climbed trees, wandered from Africa through
Stone and bronze, steel and uranium,
Now jog on silicon and fly a digital sky
In the comedy divine.


(Truly whatever of the holy realm
I had the power to treasure in my mind
Shall now become the subject of my song.
PARADISO 01.10-12)