Rebel Girl's Poetry Corner: "The tree has grown twice as high/As the roof"

Rebel Girl goes away this weekend to be with old friends with whom she was young once long ago, in Santa Monica, Venice, the westside of Los Angeles where the city runs to the sea. For awhile she and Red lived in one room in a rambling house that was the second house north of the pier, right on the sand, a few houses south of Peter Lawford's old place where JFK once frolicked. $165.00 a month. They bought their fruit and vegetables in the final minutes of the farmers market when prices were low. Sometimes people let them have the bruised fruit that had dropped for free.

By this evening they'll be up in Yosemite, together once again, camping, watching their young children run beneath the old trees.



Only Years
by Kenneth Rexroth

I come back to the cottage in
Santa Monica Canyon where
Andrée and I were poor and
Happy together. Sometimes we
Were hungry and stole vegetables
From the neighbors' gardens.
Sometimes we went out and gathered
Cigarette butts by flashlight.
But we went swimming every day,
All year round. We had a dog
Called Proclus, a vast yellow
Mongrel, and a white cat named
Cyprian. We had our first
Joint art show, and they began
To publish my poems in Paris.
We worked under the low umbrella
Of the acacia in the dooryard.
Now I get out of the car
And stand before the house in the dusk.
The acacia blossoms powder the walk
With little pills of gold wool.
The odor is drowsy and thick
In the early evening.
The tree has grown twice as high
As the roof. Inside, an old man
And woman sit in the lamplight.
I go back and drive away
To Malibu Beach and sit
With a grey-haired childhood friend and
Watch the full moon rise over the
Long rollers wrinkling the dark bay.

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