Thursday, November 30, 2017
volva the seer
godan goes gut questioning the volva the seers
down on a knee trance immersed consultation trade show
marijuana smoke incense in a bear skull
opens woden eye to their level
shud ice unlock above village homes
shud famine rool does hfrafn attack
seior seer seized her wand knocked open odin
open golden entry
sheer glass mirror mountains
sybolled in colored fire runes
covered carts ferry enormous speeds on roads hundreds of nations long
ships filled like wingless dragons with citizens
lift beyond sight nearly silent
arms and legs, sown on after battle
in ever day palaces of light and ammonia
fingers and tongues reattached, broken arms
straighened like daisies
wodan puzzled hard collapsed
drifted realms untasted
farms growing vegetables odd livestock by the billion
woden chewed reindeer jerky
raspberries mead and volva's dark secrets
5-27-17
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
dumber'n dirt (1994)
token planet ruler spermbanks
collapse, discredited in future disinterest
in their poortential, disinfected
by time
the They who are the Say
seed sky with Love to
popularize life
outgrowing portfolio stockades
yer folks dumber'n dirt
&less useful than sandbags
when oceans rise to gobble
coastal infections tensions dissolve
proving
reality dissension
1994 Hawaii
diamondhead catharsis (1994)
diamondhead groupies moneyclipped together
colby-swiss-n-cheddar
in search of sunsurf catharsis
a monet or two of something
pertaining to "downtime"
as becca and i lay our silverwares
out to pawn for rent
to afford this warm
glistening lounge music
alienating hotel from home
surreal allsmile academy
frontrow seat in mama's strong arms,
lithe waves cool the anxiety
of not selling this poem
my laptop cosmic, crediting
transcendence
awash in fees
Oahu, Hi 1994
Friday, November 24, 2017
The Mint, the Dalles, Oregon May 1, 2009: Michael Hurley w/forest bloodgood
Michael Hurley---guitar, vocals
Forest Bloodgood---violin
5-1-2009
The Mint, the Dalles, Oregon
1. Have I Told You Lately How Much I Love You? (Scotty Wiseman)
2. Moon Song ( Mildred Plew Meigs)
3. I Wanna Go Steady (Hurley?)
4. She Got the Money Too (the Corklickers)
5. The Ways of Man Are Passing Strange (Gordon Bok)
6. Gonna Work for Peace (Hurley)
7. Rattlesnake Song (traditional, Almeda Riddle 8-21-59)
8. Dusty Skies (Cindy Walker)
9. No Can Do (Hurley)
10. Mona Lisa (Nat King Cole)
11. Oh My Stars (Hurley)
12. Otto Wood The Bandit (Doc Watson)
13. Since I Met You Baby (Ivory Joe Hunter)
14. If I had a Perot (Hurley)
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
story poems for d'arty kids
*
out of music, fire once born sprung soft furred creature looking like the protector
of the land, catlike only greater and more stealthy than bear by far, covered in
thought-mists golden to find present. as it were no phoenix but rather a unique
and hypothetical phenomenon, it bore great glory in how it assumed the first paragraph
and longest sentences uttered by man. unrelatedly, unleashed on future tangled now;
* *
There was a stinky little skink
went rambling thru the alley and over a hedge
into the living room of some giraffes
who bent their necks, again, again, again
to inquire? may i? help you?
there were cashews in bronze boot mugs
"have some snacks" offered the giraffes
"climb on in we do" harrumphed the unbathed skink
eating his way to the bottom of the boot.
luckily, there was a rocketship
waiting for him there
it would take him anywhere and It did
* * *
rabbit rode out on a train to meet the mallard delgates
there by the Of Course Lake
near a colosseum made of mallard wishbones
and wattle and daub assorted-styrofoam boat seats
they were convening to party like mockstar
quite frankly, and share grog of peat juice
their favorite colloboration
selling well in liverpool and quebec too
when along came fox in his auto mobile
wearing a scrappy smirk and a bib
"hey fellahs need a lift"
"quack off and bite my long ears" they told Fox
he puttered off over a cliff with no impact
and rabbit and mallard entered the great colosseum
filled with giant carrot sculptures and lilly pad sofas
it was a rollicking good party
they wagered and indian leg wrestled sealed handshakes in spit and hugged,
it was a partnership of groggy prominence
and unstoppable sales potential. at the end
rabbit hopped off home under the grounds of a thousand trees
and mallard took wing with hundreds of others
to galaxies of water and nibble fish and even muskrat
is nice on thursdays
* * *
tiny leopards do enormous leaps off an endless tree
they land so softly the ground signs a check
to mother nature, gravity makes marble dust freeze in time
tiny leopards do that.
* * *
mice do their business down by the baseboard
under the sink and lick the dripwater and
do harvest dances wearing the regalia of their ancestors
and hold sunday school with free lunches and boxes of bellyjeans
mice form unions mice go sing bawdy songs mice
mice mice mice
* * *
terminator the worm gnawed a hole
thru the gas can and went to bed over a painted lovely sponge
there was moonlight thru the rustholes
he could hear cricket playing fiddle down in the bog
he could see the shadow of egret
he could be more still than an unrustable love
he could hope to go visit the full moon of no fear
or grow some wings if he was that kind of worm
and not the intergalactic robot kind
sent here to run for office, very slowly, and only
by rolling there in an okie-gypsy can
* * *
recall ye the salty old sailor and his unspeakable prowess
on the seas of most of his life never barfing
only barking orders thru waves of sloshy ocean stuff
at men men men used to taking it
with a smile and splinter remedy of octopi tears
they were setting net for the
gold mermaids however politically wrong that may seem now
recall the salty old sailor was a classic jerk
with insatiable prowess of which the gold mermaid
reluctantly and nervously dealt with
by stealing his sardines
what they were good at was ship wreck howards, so
the salty sailor would sign them up
for the tycoons on land too busy with hunting or war or football
who would escort the mermaids in their own
submersibles of fortune hunting caricatures
the salty sailor wanted nothing to do with anything but the
sea, but ya gots to pay the piper he says and
the accordions go wild and stupid stunts land blows
they sleep like dogs in a pile of rocking boat water
mermaids prefer to swim alongside,
telling their romantic tales and warning of octopi fans
in the mall and around strange sturgeons
but the salty sailor he has told them the nightmare to boil ya in shivers
make yer eyelids go peely
have ya a blister on the nose from
laughting up a tornado of slobber
while learning ya the betters
if ya'd only soak it in( thats a tough sell) but nature makes it.
* * *
they were tweenage minks, looking for trouble in rainbow land
they had a truck of hot candy at the ballgame
they sold it for a thousand gazillion double helix sand dollars
they bought mink coats for their friends
everyone was their friend
they all looked like
successful
minks, as you can imagine. slender, regal, and bathed in rainbows
they made music videos, they got old and wrinkled,
they became philosophers and said really odd things
but the rainbows had permanently colored their eyes
they were So Beautiful
that is why they became President.
* * *
"rollerskating derbies are always fun" she screamed
going faster than the spool of candy around her mind
boys boys boys tight fast lanes
curves around the rink i don't look stupid i'm a dork i'm just
a blur who sees me sees a going faster than
the silk of a coccoon
in the most instrumental transformation
where others become right in laying at your wings
that perfume the air with grace
like a flirt that goes well but vanishes into the night with friends
everyone was laughing that look
off the ground the skate wheels slowly rotates
there are pieces of crushed boy hearts all over them
it's cute as heck
* * *
baby one and baby two went on a voyage
it was reckless, it was bizarre, it had the best burgers that babies can buy
and it went to a valley
baby three, baby four, baby eight and baby forty nine all
had guitars and learning disabilities
it was so far away from everyone else, it didn't matter. they
rocked like bad baby guitarists and made no one
cry. then, at the motel, they trashed the pool.
they made international news go beserk and rich
ads sold their logos on baby apparel for gangstas
wah wah and a thousand decibels
of hammered baby claw notes
they made a mess. they were babies gone mild, spilled milk
reflected the getaway stroller bent from tantrums and digestion.
* * *
old turtle craweld over the vocabulary of night
in a olde waye of knowledge
riding a hammerhead and brandishing a volleyball
there for the kingdom he would visit were he able.
old turtle made merry
he sang and whistled to the oak trees
he kissed the dew instead of blinking
had three daughters of perfect turtle heritage
glossy shelled and stubborn as granite pillows
well they had gone to a dance
without him, he knew they were sure to be
courted and so olde turtle hurried his step
and quit texting while he walked
over the dictionary of day in the veritable use
of wordjewels as bricks or fire or atomic sky glimmers
olde turtle never seemed to get there
the oaks were happy his voice was as old and soft as rain
the world knew he was forever atrudge
the moss under his ears had its own wikipedia page
his nails were worn down as the basins of waterfalls
his tongue could lick flames off his eyes
were he to walk thru the middle of volcanic activity
in the alphabet of creation olde turtle
were a mighty pawn and the mover of mindsets
his pattern made sense with a stare of ten zillion smiles
so deep the ocean calls him amigo
* * *
hippo child in his wallow crib made a lullabye
out of sheer algae inspired delirium
he wore a scarm which no had ever ever seen or heard of
it was made of sticks vines dental floss and marsh bits
he called it a scarm but it was a bad jewelry
hippo child had no fashion sense. his daddy was
a hobo hippo on the moon, sometimes visiting venus.
hippo boy had made a good living on his own
despite his adorable scarm (kind of like a scarf
dragging across the wallow zone like an invite for ridicule
the othe hippos had a field day his lullaby over came their old fat hippo hearts one day
we can't know how it went they were underwater
it was during a rainstorm and they were
scared, too, so it helped.
* * *
the fuzziest thing ever to walk on five legs
did handstands for a living and had a gig at the rodeo
there were also feats of stupid strength
the fuzziest thing could win blue ribbons all day
it didn't matter he felt like a baldy
he was the fuzziest thing: ever.
it was never enough, the hall of mirrors, the extra hats.
the walking on our hands to make our hair frizz and touch the earth
it seems to fly off into space
stolen by space snipper-bots, little twerplings
INVENt your own Hair, please. the fuzziest thing
jolted the crowd, using the character acting classes
he'd learned from videos in the library trashcan
* * *
sometime galactic space weasels go speed to the little novas
that want to be left alone, there under
swingsets of sweet night
give us space you flippy little space weasels with no manners
and ability to blend memory into carmel soup
i know there in the hammock of celestial bodies
we see forms
creating new forms
developing perfection as a work of time carries truth
in spite of ferret looking space weasles with rabies and bad breath
that solicit one for long business deals
under the toy train nostalgia for days devoid of dumdums
skipping merrily in tandem with nonsensical
visions, germinating, washing off,
running off into the love of animal frivolity licking growling
huffing preening cleaning dining
animal brethren all the neighbors digging
scratching hunting raising young
* * *
the nest gets bigger every day as the bird shaped movie star
takes every twig from the tree until only a toothpick
holds up the daydream he has made
a definition of unsustainability look like a cakewalk rigged with cakes
the cakes go every direction one can imagine
it is a real mirage
the nest glows with frosting, the diva has a party of one
its huge. he goes to work, and escapes as the salty sailor
he puts the nest in storage in a cloud
he finds the boat over where the water starts
he gets in the boat named after his favorite storm and grinds up the starter
his anchor is encrusted with valentine candy and seals
don't want to let go----they're heavy enough to sink us!
he reekingly cries in overstatement deluxe.
the actual Poseidon intervenes,
arriving on a seahorse named dolly with flames of nostril exhaust.
the sea lions consider taking on the lord of the sea
and say nope by flipping away with candy powered flops
the salty sailer gives Poseidon a hug
as the god recoils from his lacquerd smell of Land
as the ship clears the harbor the salty sailor swells up like a pufferfish
connected to a pneumatic machine run by ocean power
the sea says hello to the sailor
another day making dolphin jokes and carving narwhale tropies
* * *
sleeping in a sweet pile of kittens
a kitten so small
it got buried and lost
the mama found it and took it aside
with little licks
it was all better
it mewed and had milk
life made it happy
it slept and got carried
it never opened its mew in anger
it left it in the bottom
of the pile under the sweet sisters
and brothers it stayed warm with in their relativistic
digression toward modernistic analogies
involving non kitten philosopy
and cute trite tactical purrs
a kitten so small
it found a lion's share
* * *
angelfish eating daffodil salads, how random.
they're everywhere these days, the salad palaces we call them.
around every fishbowl on every street in american random.
raccoons try to say hello to the angelfish
but of course, don't get eaten or mauled was the golden rule
under the big dark rock. more dressing for the salad!
the bitterness calls for angel-honey
next time, give the raccoon a chance
* * *
skunk and toad and sallymander went on a rollercoaster
made of a a leaf stitched to a pine needle
it didn't work they waited to frolick to no avail
but had a great philosophical discussion
on the best kind of weather: dry, or wet.
toad says i love windy weather when i'm around skunk
skunk says i love wet weather to keep toad from looking like a gross rock
sallymander says i love weather whether weather seems or knots
and made the rollercoaster real
it was called The Seasons in a dream before the machines took over
and grew the nature all down
* * *
at the bottom of the lake the rare whale
gave a concert concerning celestial laws and omens
following which a raffle for a pile of kelp
was meant to fundraise the sewer system feeding the lake.
dignitaries were bussed in by eel fleets
there was zapping all about and a bit of extra
haze to the water if you get the drift
the rare whale had to deal with it, what else?
go park in nebraska and do husking? with these set of pipes?
if the comets and asteroids and space junk
start to look like the ocean
i'm shopping for a cryochamber swears the diva whale
the omens are fair to partly spewey with spouting
he thinks he's a elephant with flippers
he thinks the lake is the sea
he knows sewers are supposed to go out not in.
with these pipes?
* * *
three dandelions woke up the sun with a soft song
three robins threaded a curtain around the puppet box full of silk
three bears on their hind legs find their tiptoes on the shelf
three plinks in a pond go wide and interlap
three beetles ride three ants in a first time ever miracle
three blades of grass next to the dandelions rub shoulders
we're all in it together, all ten
* * *
a rodeo of snails dipped in television magic
can easily get out of the box
of control and take over the universe of comical lunacy
they can hitch rides to the moon its a bigproblemlately
it is getting slimed and their spurs leave scuffs all over
they sure know how to ride that rodin thinker brow
they have the promise of moonworm
the buck stops bucking in free gravity heaven
enter: the dragon. it has a costume, and is
allergic to television magic.
the sneezing is tragic, and much debated
by shock jocks most everwhere.
* * *
sorry boys boys boys
acting cool, looking great, acting tough
breaking out, feeling hurt, getting lost,
boys boys boys
denim polyester sneakers
no coat, no lunch, no comb.
boys boys boys.
* * *
a flight of donkeys or a coven of lemurs will suffice, pig.
get the cranberry marmalade, an olde turtle book of proverbs,
four jars of dally dally, a flowervase of pure energy,
a trough of applesauce to bathe the donkeys
a pew of pillows to pummel mid late early morning
otters may get involved, even a spare vole.
they usually have commitments, but we'll see. if i can get a vole,
you have my solemn bray, as witnessed by
retired turtle volunteers with rotten knees.
* * *
under the wheelbarrow, a manger of kittens, a sleeping
pile of unopened eyes only days old
i put the barrow back down
and later saw mama come back
she move them as were her wont, refugees
under a woodpile, near as good as a barrow
or better if there be mice
the pile okitties start exploring, the world
is their wheelbarrow not their crib
it isn't olde turtle's heavy shell
it isn't any more a manger it hauls catnip and smitten rhymes
now they're all in managerial positions
i. like zeus, let them go.
go my cat babies, and be feral and charm the other fearing beasts
small enough for your pounce and play
* * *
polar bear had a dream of climbing the stars using igloos
already full of people so he stacked men and ice
interchangably in a blind frenzy, and even a few huskies
got thrown in, and one or two oil guys, and i heard even
some missionaries but that is not confirmed, polar bear
climbed up to our first star the moon
and had a bad case o hunger
he ate the dust and even the astronauts footprints
he used the flag to hunt non food items of rocks
polar bear bounced slow over the dream stuck
on a fake star with no food
he was crushed into polar bear jelly and the moon
gave a toast to mankind
* * *
princess clothes on sale for free and cosmetics bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
that make you feel good about earth and shoes from recycled nouns
princess gear get it here bags and galoshes and crystal earring chandeliers
princess rides in steel pumpkins along for the
pomp and procession an animal non princess gives her a kiss
and is transformed into a rose garden
princes are invited, that is the variation. otherwise,
flipped shell game the animal was a spelling bee
* * *
mountains with legs stand up at night and take a stroll
no one notices they're super asleep
saint helens meets hood by the columbia
they are super huge so they don't have far to go,
with that mature base and all. legs of diamond muscle
do the trick, you'd think footprints would be found
you'd want proof, would you not?
they got a load of snow with the wettest december in 70 years
they really have to want to go out, it is no easy task
especially unseen and leaving no tracks
wearing magic slippers over feet
pure carbon squooshed together in strands brilliant
moutains with legs& foothills that know
* * *
wren flitted about the window of the ogre
trying to get his notice, she had a special egg to lay in his ear
he awoke from a century wide nap as the wallpaper
sagged from the still shaking plaster walls
he went to the window and lifted the wren onto his foot long finger
she gives him a peck on the cheek and hops hops into his ear
with hairy vines strong enough for pelicans to roost
she doesn't go too deep into the ear and it isn't fear
she finds x marks the spot written in neon in the ogre's eardrum
she pops an egg out so fast one must say: wow
wren is flying out of a mist of wax and batwebs and newyears confetti
she makes it to the window with a thud
the window had been closed, ogre lifts her and with his all powered
breath revives wren, she gives him the peck
on his cheek he opens the inch thick glass, breathes her good tidings
the egg and the eardrum are one
* * *
chattering squirrel and loon loon made a massive fort
and brought their snacks in clamshell cases
to celebrate the solstice and have a real good time
the woods were still as others were all on a cruise ship
the woods were abandoned to only chattering squirrel and loon loon
as the rain began and the rivers swelled
they went higher into the tree, saying goodbye to the massive fort
it was neat to watch it drift off until the river made it
to less chattery squirrel's doorstep
Halt he Cried! and nature complied! loon loon did a double dance
went diving off the doorstep into the murk
he came back with the cruise ship! it was inside a sealed bottle,
and all the lilliputians came billowing out like ants
following no queen but their old star codes and pre-printed
directions.
* * *
your dolly has old clothes your dolly has a sweet face
your tongue is green can i have some candy
your messy room your good grade your slumber party your life
is such a beautiful gift your presence
your dolly is the best your existence hath improved all reality
born of our children your perfection makes all good
* * *
toy nails and hammers and kites,
real steel cars, balls to kick or throw
new bike new ribbon new mirror new stuffed friend
before mom and dad wake up
a fancy huge boot nailed to the fireplace
full of candy money candy figurines
the tree what my parents call gaudy all blinking in every color they make
with chains of silver and bells of gold
and globes of shiny strange reflections i see myself stretched
eating the last cookie wearing a snow moustace i am older than santa
toy this toy that, the time and the mantle and the moon fades with morn
* * *
billy goat had an idea, and went to visit the wizard to share it,
so the wizard took the idea and changed it into a mouse
with human legs and a perfect set of teeth which spoke english
better than the king. mousemanking found riding on the
goats head difficult , so he made a kite and rode it trailing the goat but above.
mouse could see far ahead, that was the perfect idea
and had senses you wouldn't believe unless you visit the wizard
and your great idea allows it like billy goat can.
* * *
chipmunks at a comedy club, with glazed eyes and a bowl of captain grunch
they have seen this scene before, last hibernation. down in philly.
back into their hotrods, the road is exploding behind them.
industry could care less, they're at the comedy club with the seals of approval.
chipmunks come across some chimpanzees at the waterhole.
they try to shake hands but end up getting tossed into the kitchen soup tureen.
it is luckily gazpacho and they emerge most refreshed.
they laugh it off, the chimps say sorry and buy them subscriptions to acorn digest
its all good, at least better than last time, up in newark.
* * *
learn how to type, aladdin's mom yelled as he ran off to ali babbas cave
but got waylaid by a dreaming lion on a dune
who playing a mandolin by an oasis seemed the most brisk form of enlightment
aladdin had ever seen. by the way, the lion asked, would you like
a typing lesson? before hearing any reply his tail did a swoosm
in the polished glowing sand and it was his: perfect fingerstyle stenograpic chops
at home his mom was dazzled and said this is your treasure
that opens the world, it is never the other way around . the type learns you,
the sand and swoosm are your dream. aladdin was pretty worldly, he knew a good
swipe of luck when it brushed his dusty self off.
* * *
whale told a short story in long song form, it were too beautiful.
the water was moved, rippled off into space
the whale was soon dry
he inhaled half back
and ocean returned, with bits of star crumbs all over the spinning wheels.
cute as moonbeams, but not as beautiful as creation once swam.
* * *
frog was eating a sandwich by the lumber mill
along came beaver and his family in a cart drawn by bart simpson
ruining frog's perfect( beatrix potter) dill pickle.
start over: frog jumped in the pond with his webby fingers
full of sandwitches, and up swam beaver ready to help hold them
on his paddle above the guaranteed water.
frog loved beaver and would trust him with his very own tadpoles
so of course he tossed his halfsogged sandwichz
onto beaver's tail. why'd you do it, frog?
wasn't paying attention. i saw ralph nader by the lumber mill
and got jinxed heebie jeebied and sphinxed.
* * *
a buffalo stood knee deep in the light from past the sun
it made buffalo strong and lasting
in a wind of men with fired eyes and women hungrye too much to last
the buffalo rode salmon upstream into mountains unbroken
thru tree hewn rugged earth swallowing shadows
where bears fear to forage the buffalo withstood embrace of man
until a girl so small wearing only a dress and boots
grabbed herself off the bank she washed up on
and climbed the shag of the buffalo to his hump and nestled there
as buffalo went over the mountain's glaciered stone terraces
when she awoke the buffalo was gone
overlooking a metroplex
an industrial center, three quick marts, and nine coffees in two hands
* * *
hello lark, hello robin
whatcha doing besides the nest
laying eggs on the inside
well when you're done want to hunt worms
sure the rain makes them juicy
if the mud doesn't ruin the flavor
i'll see you by the park bench
ok unless that dogs there
thanks for remembering that or that old man with the cane
oh him well make a good strong shell and get your rest
oh yesdearie and mind the drones its xmas
* * *
porcupine wears the free hugs cardboard sign down at the saturday market
he waits by the elephant ear booth all the cinnamon and sugar
keeping hands occupied as porcupine goes in for his free hug
until the ballon artist is pulled in on a tractor beam
to mr pincushion its just a skit. the public is fooled.
out of the porcupine suit comes three twins in amobea suits.
they are famously known and fooled the world again,
the clapping goes on for a few months. the three twins go hang with banksy.
the fooled public goes wild.
* * *
nine minnows had a school under the leafy banks of
an oklahoma creek and told math stories and learned history sports
drew hook lines sinker diagrams on tablets of mica
named the various outboard motors that chop and dice who generations
nine minnows so serene with rulers and rules
with knowledge and vice and staring out the window at clouds above
passing notes two minnows in minnow love
no teacher no principal no bells ringing just a minnow jedi
making the banks leafy making the lines break and hooks melt
nine minnows using their minds, tiny items in moving
winter streams turgid and cold for nature's way
* * *
the salty sailor took a hurricane speed bath out on deck
lashed to the mast as usual by his crew for wanting to go over the
sea serpent straits without any escort from the office of lucky glides
he ran into odysseus who stranded on a lump of clay
out off the coast of maine was in sore need of a clam chowder
they took him in and gave him the galoshes of the times
and explained calendar art and as Odysseus warmed he came to sense
and went diving back off ship, the salty sailor took it in stride
and consulted the nearest mermaids who explained odyessesus
longing to return home. the salty sailor made some mac and cheese
in his microwave as the hurricane pitterpattered/ his oh whateter boat/
i have lost many marlin/ in me day /says the salty sailor
and put si racha on his dinner to later spew back at the sea serpents
the salty sailor thinks ahead, for his ship and his crew.
* * *
the babysitter had eight girls, three boys, two poodles, a spaniel,
and an iphone thirtysix. they were coralled like beasts of disney.
they were aimed at a set called television which beamed
correct happy things alternating with things to fear or confuse.
babies wet each others, had fights, rolled happy drooling,
the iphone thirtysix was lonely but had fun beeping in stupid ringtones:
it got a life of its own.
the babysitter took a bath out on the deck
while the poodles sat the spaniel who was watching the
iphone thirtysix videomonitor the eleven assorted infantry.
the bubble bath was perfect under a blaring stereo moon
it was modest and helped out her sister's sister
all the tomcats in the world meowled at the big party on the roof
it sounded huge but was just another day in baby kingdom
* * *
the smore hovered over the earth lake and drank up a portion
before reappearing over the home of the boy chosen
before time, to be there as his first zit bloomed and hold his hand
from outer space during the agony of that first zit
then it went back across veritable tarmac of time/space
in a popping motion that let loose a warpdrive
to excel at animated productions of feature programs
drinking up the attention from punts, runts, and grunts
* * *
bunny, bear, and horse were playing tennis at the park
when a storm blew in and ruined the game
they packed their balls and rackets in backpacks and ran home
cold and shivery. it was in the middle of the day.
there were crickets asleep under the floor boards and bread in the oven
bunny wanted a carrot, bear needed some honey, and whaddya think
horse had for lunch? honey carrots with alfalfa. they watched
the storm go away, goodbye storm hello smaller and smaller
raindrops and then no wind rather a blue crease of sky.
it was too wet for tennis, but not too wet.
* * *
a rowboat of glass
a totem pole on top of a chicken
a game of laughing to find the biggest and bestest friend
a tree to scale with fingers barely more open than acorns
a wave of air capable of wishing stars weren't fireflies
a taste of mom's food after hours and hours
playing ball with dad shooting hoops or catch much younger an
anchor made of sandriverleavings
a smile reaching past the laughter willing limb handles
doing skin the cat having the bed made over me
creepmouse daughters diving off my shoulders as i stand in the lake
* * *
acting out westerns with toy cap guns in the woods
never got me shot by the cops in real world our skateboarding
around campus wasn't hooligan behavior neither was
walking around town after midnight if we wanted playing tennis
middle of the night with all the lights on
taking the bikes down the highway to the minnow and candy store
going fishing at friends ponds for hours unattended most surely
playing sports for years playing the violin
being a semisuperhero before that drawing soldiers and tanks during vietnam
acting out acting out acting out boy boy boy
* * *
longhaired snowbunny with superlong feet met sasquach
under the sequoia on a planet not far away, and asked for some foot
advice: trim the nails with tools, or chew them off?
sasquatch: i never chew mine off, thats nasty. i use obsidian shears.
snowbunny: it figures
they lead a charmed and solitary existence, so their banter is often curt.
snowbunny: want to see some frozen huckleberry bushes?
sas: you mean the ones behind you stained purple like snowconemen"
up flew a cardinal as red as a jfk xmas in france, she had
a foot question too: leave your tracks in the snow, or eat them?
* * *
all the wee bumpkins in their iconic villager ruffles and d'arty kids
preamblin' thru a picture of america the beautiful
warts and all, horse trough handsink, lodging with foes of renown,
getting taken to sea hogtied to work for eight months
better to barter one's larder on shore for sure
free trudgingly stumbling from pal to pub to log and stove
dressed commonly in no uniformity forced to kneel
but for beknightings of treelimbs as one works ones way home
thru dense underbrush never destroyed
untamed terrains unterraced or terrorized domains
bloomers kilts& lorry sleds, the marking of america
well hitched in burlap knickers and cardigans
kept clean enuff to leave finally to the d'arty kids
* * *
born a pony
never once
mule by nature
ever dunce
pointed wonder
pulling weight
unicorn power
never late
*** *** ***
in the treehouse, sallyjo and buster had a pretend microwave and a box of food toys
with vines plugging the treehouse into the beginning of the morning
and the sun doing extra good warming them and making the cutlery user friendy
for four year olds, sally jo and brother buster mixed a tub of dust and twig chips
with three driblets of spit from buster and set the microwave to high
using a dial made from a soda cap nailed on, in the treehouse three feet seemed
to be in the upper clouds if they dropped pizza off the rail it took
a good minute or two to bring it back up the step with olive-rocks on top
of the mudsauce and dirtcheese boarddough, in the treehouse a binoculars
helped spy good cats and bad dogs, and rotten old neighbors, in the
treehouse there were only stick walls and a roof there was only a pretend
address and a pretend skull and crossbones chalked on the floor
in the treehouse we can leave the faucet running
door open lights on fridge open but never laugh when leaves
blow off into piles and months go by with nary a bud nor flower to mircofry
* * *
cheese mouse sat near the great museum and sniffed his fill, and decided to tunnel
in near the bank where it was softly available, nibble thru the melty brie exterior
into the mozzarella brick and string cheese girders, grinding parmesean concrete
to get to the aged cheddar valult, just past moldy blue security poison.
a worm had made its way thru eight feet of soil to find a mate. everything is unrelated.
* * *
in a marathon race with dragonflies one better borrow a jetpack
or a da vinci kit and three d printer. the dragonflies had promised to visit ladybug
for years, but they were always busy. then, at the kale patch, they finally
made a date and said they'd bring a game to play. instead, they brought a kingfisher
it was rather inappropriate, said the ladybug, looking up at kingfishers nice beak.
dragonfly used it as an excuse to huff off, which was fine by ladybug.
and kingfisher had laundry to do. in a long distance race with olde turtles and
salty sailors the preying mantis moves best: at once.
* * *
squid and kangaroo had nothing to do
but say adieu to vous and vous
lark and crow gave nowhere a show
in view of the few born with a clue
moose and hog rolled snake and frog
to joke the hawk and others mock
lightning let loose the new caboose
squidaroo and kanga too had no hands to move
* * *
a mammoth would sit on this spot and feed her young
in the days not long ago, among heaps of frozen spinach
the mammoth would linger, draped in glory of popeye,
giving her baby some milk from a huge bottle
by the volcanic gloryhole birthing drinking ware for prehistory.
a mammoth would stand on this spot and watch
for lions, her mate scouring the underbrush just near.
a mammoth would live among others
their power more than just their size, as monuments
in motion they would rest on this spot
clean from the river, unhunted by life
* * *
monkey flew first class to the walnut factory to buy some snark.
the walnut stumps fun to climb over in the airplane lavatory
all those stamps covering monkey
all that monkey business being made to order just with flag decals
at the walnut factory mailbox monkey did the self delivery
of finding the source of the walnuts
which was in fact a truck with a time portal in the exhaust pipe
in he went like a barrel full of explorers after nut banana pie
the stamps began to undo his motion of monkey elegance
he ripped furiously as john muir in heathen marin discovered the yeti
the stamps janis joplin wore off the jimi stamp was tuned on
walnuts didn't seem so important anymore
he wondered why he'd spent so many aeons swinging the vines of time
to get here first class in a race to stay extinct? not.
* * *
undersea dolphin tribes and better places forbidden to humans
but not to kids and assorted children, they built=to order the imagination
delicate materials, gossamer hypotheticals, fantastical creatures
other things with eyes, you'll see
undersea dolphin tribes.
***
ice baby had a popsicle dinner and went to her sled
on the steepy steep icelair she lived in during each winter
when the ice was her encyclopedia dinner.
she boarded her sled and pushed off down the mountainside she careened
as they call it, wildly careening rather carefully careening
she knew the way and even the sled knew the way, it was old hat
zigzagging thru huge cedar and pine trees past gigantic rocks
ice baby made it look easy. she glided to a stop and hung the sled under a shed
and her muckalucks went charging thru fresh thick snow several feet deep
* * *
the important blue boat bobbed updown awash in bubblebathwaves as the twins
loaded up the passengers on it and a sunken castle of sorts whose spires
reached from subaquatic depot of the tub with passengers in pretend tourist gear
affixed to the props, the blue boat, the castle, the minature salty old sailor,
the boat in a bubble fog and roar of dramatic licencse in re enactments
of all possibilities with 23 passengers and only deck space for three
they ride the castle off into the bubbles, the important blue boat
lands up on the monogramed towel near the door
* * *
baby baby bear was not small by a mile nor dumb as a brute
he was not great by dimension but he had time figured out
the smaller more tiny he tried to become it worked it worked, all goodfun
until as they say as they oftenmost should, baby bear saw his missing extra
babybearness shredding a nest at the top of tree, towering too much
for a baby babybear's reputation as they say, a binkie of pinecone, a blankie
of goatbeardlichen he was not insignificant nor a cuddly posterchild for soap
he had a strangers egg in his paw when the lighting bolt lassoed him home
leaving mere baby bear less innocent not to say larger in any regard
* * *
wild horses on a chartered tour bus of the great plains states, just easing
back in their swivel contraptions sippin alfalfa juice thru curly straws
they have the world at their disposal, but why dispose of the world when highway
just butters right over the land and rivers and mighty chasms, the wild horses
on r and r, exhausted, ready to unwind stick their necks out the bus windows
there isn't a tree for two hundred miles the sun is going down,
their hooves are so relaxed they fall off their legs and roll on the bus floor
they end up wearing each others socks when they stop for a break
looking at saddles in the shops and shaking their heads, wild horses.
* * *
the salty sailor woke up wearing his hammock under the nose
again, again, again but just in time to provide ones soy vases
to an actual walrus. being in his waters, it were best to grease the cogs with soy.
walrus went thru a good measure of soy in his fishy needs,
and he had extended family with extensions of other fauna and even planet.
the salty sailor was having a hard time with complexity away from his
sheer nautical prowess, which was partly hyperbole. it seemed that sodium
for brain fluid was not optimal. he began a dew diet of morning dew and
occasional late afternoon dew after scrutinizing the mildew.
he seemed to have utterly forgotten Walrus, staring at him for the past five minutes.
the salty sailor slapped his noggin and remembered his Cargo
excused himself from the ever unruffled Walrus and went to stir the lobster farm.
* * *
woodpecker found a new place to sharpen the beak, on a rock.
the rock was in the yard of the sherrif, but what should he care? he's at work. so
woodpecker begins grinding on the rock . he draws things. they look funny.
best of all, his beak is sharp. next day, a badger come up to woodpecker by the
rotten fence company. how about we go fishing for termites? they bought some
angel hair pasta, eight bags of marshmallows, a zipline, and some bobbers.
woodpecker nearly implaled a rhino on the way out of the store, his beak was almost
too sharp. fortunately, the rhino was wearing his pendleton blanket collection.
they found an enormous tree, and woodpecker did a quick piece of drilling
into the termite metropolis. they came furiating out with every curse word in the
termite tongue, clutching their young, mealy and unsypathetic as they were. they
made a truce. they gave them their collection of mildewed seeds which was legendary
among the citizens of the woods who liked such disgusting vittles.
woodpecker used his sharp beak on the seeds, and badger had his share put in a
looking glass handle, as an oddity.
* * *
post modern dolphin yoga, and better places forbidden to humans
but not to kids and assorted children as they create the ocean of deep space
using informed delicate materials, random mysteries, indelible vocals,
other things with eyes inside their ears, we think to smell, re-orientated.
topsy turvy poetry, understanding life in giggling pods racing along never alone
in others hearts using sonar to kiss is not uncommon
oceans full of waiters bringing waters glacial cold to re-invent the ceiling floor.
planets in raindrops on smiles of dolphins
just for you three girls, poetry is there and around all, loving.
* * *
sweet dreams on little girl minds
in peaceful homes protected by no jets
but the love of father and mercies of mother
big girl dreaming,
thousand idea flashes per moment* * *
the power you have sleeping
unleash on future tangled now
written Mt Tabor
XMAS 2015
in 2 days, for Mesa, Isis, and Surreal, my daughters
Omne vivum ex vivo,
Omne vivum ex vivo, Latin for "all life [is] from life."
tango spoon galvanize
untwist beat blackball
stop bland tonight
bay mileage deep
tip disdain seven
corrosion tollbooth pop
divisive honey maxim
express devalue must
silver antecedent companionship
bushing formality recent
calorie converge pinwheel
posterior dramatics venial
spiral crab springboard
dada poetry, auto-dictionary technique
1-22-17
Saturday, November 18, 2017
tardegrade crater
island of women, born of palladium
& iridium
motes from remote
conjectures, birthing
tourist visas for the tardegrades& their vats of
oil, sending humanity
off to college
or roughnecking deep solitude leaf storms,
thank you catastrophe
from the bottom of my unfathomed fatherly
love
Monday, November 13, 2017
1991
french ivy skeleton
twenty thousand invisible phantoms
goldly oblivious to aether
which enwrapt their community sweet with oranges,
summer flocks, immortal unbottlelessness
enough for 20,000 plus undiscerned
phantoms to indulge color but briefly
though not having flushed semblace of matter
for Aeons their entrails had carnival
ferris wheel mishaps that pulsed pastoral.
having agreed to play large scale twister
over hill stream& tree, to chameleon some envy
some envy caught remains to stay
the crimson leaves
1991
rooting mixture
duty to feel, to renounce, gather bread crumbs& sup late morning wine; bemoan
the speed with which we digress telepathically to reinvent the globe. shoo, bedbugs.
find new entymologists. i swear disbelief at the ground holding me true. i'd like to see
through a human heart, if i could locate one.
i look into finely lit waters and clutch the truth of murkiness, its pearl. descending to
mean what i say, horizons blend and echo a garden of faded stars. cube wheeled jokes
and clipped wings entwine the page of this sacrosanct temple, penitent and weak.
propriety is propped sideways, and duty sleeps a fat poet. value, ideal; the stomach
knows time a friend to progressively avoid.
limbs stretch to orchards unworked by dull fingers that point Earth toward home.
woods fed of their own fire, learnings that preach to trees with root cramped toward
water. i am the number counted. if my spine would curve distinctly upright,i'd feel more
than just the next opposable thumb, and plant my soil deeply, cupped in the folds of
a woman.
newly discovered nations test the brow of solitary moments, pointless as beauty's
run-on sentence, unfolding a roll of film from a constellation, an open sphere. (1992)
summer hammocks
only you reaching the import of my heart
redeems the greenish stamps accrued,
enough to buy a celestial shanty
carved from carnelian precipices,
nestled dormant phoenix eggs
&convergences of delight
reminiscent of
summer
hammocks
8-16-12
cedar no match
wreathed in desert sage, i swam the narrows.
beads were overly burdened
about the worries i silver along the mines of my temples.
to gain the side of the other,
attempts were breaststroked.
from the heights, comrades jeered
good natured
until she who wastes took my notice
with a sunk log against the heart.
cedar is no match for sulfur mixed with perfume.
i matched the deep with a sleep
most unsteep. i brew
at the bottom, and she watches.
8-11-12
vostok 3
what is down there: uniforms,
corny forms, you need forms, firm yonis,
yogi farms, drill bits, spill mitts,
sigh tests, exact blunders, drum ah,
ho hum foods, boozed petri pirates,
guest limitations, guestimation stations,
canned heart, stern Ohs, instant No Ledge Ax.
axis pewter, goiter barrons,
inept opera sieves, eva per One,
marmot worship, downy synclines,
boots to the chin,
bleak flask skip eggs,
afro zen juice colored yellah
blue white flue
portal chasm echo chambers
1=21=12
vostok 2
poem lake, trapped in a million miles of ice,
no one wants to drink you.
mammoth swill,
rink of unchampioned neanderthal,
what pole shift entered you in the dustbunny races to solitude?
with sigh interest accumulation,
stock in vostok plummets by the bit of drill
fracking pristine imagery.
the high men above break thru,
slurry of antifreeze in shot glasses the size of oil drums
never doubt the russians
innured cold warriors
dauntless in dumb stupored intelligence that tells them
riches tapped, arctic caps,
microbial vials and battery socks
one can't wade the same waters twice
no one wants
to think
we exist undisturbed, pangea, pandora,
gaia sedated in a slough of frost
freezeframe sampletons
simpletons....what a speck speaks,
glistened unseen
2-21-12 portland
syncline body
body, bawdy not. aptly dismayed,
reconnoiter Avenuede. purposefull,
long pastel striped socks
hot yellow tank top
syncline curve smooths
(what makes regular smooth seem a
flaxen black hole,
consumed manifestations tugged thru time
fingers lobes thighs inner mouth
&hair thick worldliness,
silverstreak nebula
rarefied airs envelop the bed area67
best honored not more in
inference, fur dance
mammal mates we certainly
paw snort& position the allured
oh my, oh my.
1-21-12 s.e. Portland Oregon
finger tips
pens versus swords in what context
thought nadia salerno-sonenberg while slicing onions
in aspen and more
bows versus bullets
in different magazine packets
aprons versus tool belts
pull back the hammer with your metaphor
enough is enough
we can give ourselves up with the onion
but the satire is flat and full of nails
9-12-13 se portland
lynn's boy blue
blues from and of the bottle
has hand on throttle,
choke is handy when cooking with gas
laid up, spent, busted open.
repooperating. jimmy
saw the river on fire
before her name was oxygen.
feed the cabin a log of beer.
our hero's gauze trailing crutches
run a showbiz buzz gauntlet,
take out their cutlet
from what's left to view
drink tickets take token solace on his shelf at dale's
good to be loved when you're down
hear! it is a blue sound that heals
our yellow green edges
lucy fir
firs facing the sun
(frost lives where left unmet
truckthing painted in lichen
horses circulate the sky
over frozen grass field
isis on buddy and mesa on coco
round& round
all faces the sun
some point at
1-13-14
last dip in the pool
mourn no hart
little light weaned stem of blood as night prowled
urban utopia dismantled by barbaric unfree unspeech
poet throat civil servant neck good dude life, cut
dirty war brought high reveals low men mean dumb filthy proven
city unkind some sleep in brambles for warmth
wear chains meant for dogs around the neck and flag capes spit-soiled
many lightning bolts bounced off such dense malice
before two slain lives drained on light rails sigh.
not a moment lapse see exploiting explorers walk
stilts carnage foliage a carnation for menos incarceration
woe a den on tracks sealed in peril
dark lots warned storms blot as right erred more
frequently fervent in fascist features disfavored famously
to murder is wrong and to murder wrongly is worse
clouds of crows ate sad death sky yet flew away off free speech wind
economics don quioxte the climate young scared teenage girls
defense musters as animals free must when devalued
intent indignant unflinching vulnerable venerating in retrospect reflex
a community binds undone becomes one
one voice out of three thrives poetry carves chance a totem pole buried safe
some eyes love closed frail vessels the bee stings long blocked
mourn no hart when stags are made trash
their vandal still cursing under concrete cloaks of conscience
mullet maned derranged maniac monster not wooden but split.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
last month of page views, super cool internationals!
United States
103
Romania
50
Portugal
47
United Kingdom
2
Mexico
2
Brazil
1
Canada
1
Spain
1
India
1
South Korea
1
snippet tiidbit deletion additions redacted
* * *
the nest gets bigger every day as the bird shaped movie star
takes every twig from the tree until only a toothpick
holds up the daydream he has made
a definition of unsustainability look like a cakewalk rigged with cakes
the cakes go every direction one can imagine
it is a real mirage
the nest glows with frosting, the diva has a party of one
its huge. he goes to work, and escapes as the salty sailor
he puts the nest in storage in a cloud
he finds the boat over where the water starts
he gets in the boat named after his favorite storm and grinds up the starter
his anchor is encrusted with valentine candy and seals
don't want to let go----they're heavy enough to sink us!
he reekingly cries in overstatement deluxe.
the actual Poseidon intervenes,
arriving on a seahorse named dolly with flames of nostril exhaust.
the sea lions consider taking on the lord of the sea
and say nope by flipping away with candy powered flops
the salty sailer gives Poseidon a hug
as the god recoils from his lacquerd smell of Land
as the ship clears the harbor the salty sailor swells up like a pufferfish
connected to a pneumatic machine run by ocean power
the sea says hello to the sailor
another day making dolphin jokes and carving narwhale tropies
* * *
sleeping in a sweet pile of kittens
a kitten so small
it got buried and lost
the mama found it and took it aside
with little licks
it was all better
it mewed and had milk
life made it happy
it slept and got carried
it never opened its mew in anger
it left it in the bottom
of the pile under the sweet sisters
and brothers it stayed warm with in their relativistic
digression toward modernistic analogies
involving non kitten philosopy
and cute trite tactical purrs
a kitten so small
it found a lion's share
* * *
angelfish eating daffodil salads, how random.
they're everywhere these days, the salad palaces we call them.
around every fishbowl on every street in american random.
raccoons try to say hello to the angelfish
but of course, don't get eaten or mauled was the golden rule
under the big dark rock. more dressing for the salad!
the bitterness calls for angel-honey
next time, give the raccoon a chance
* * *
skunk and toad and sallymander went on a rollercoaster
made of a a leaf stitched to a pine needle
it didn't work they waited to frolick to no avail
but had a great philosophical discussion
on the best kind of weather: dry, or wet.
toad says i love windy weather when i'm around skunk
skunk says i love wet weather to keep toad from looking like a gross rock
sallymander says i love weather whether weather seems or knots
and made the rollercoaster real
it was called The Seasons in a dream before the machines took over
and grew the nature all down
thrillshow trances (1992)
"Joie Jr. and Joie Sr. test-crashed guardrails and breakaway Interstate signs for US Steel and aluminum light poles for ALCOA. The highways are safer today because of these tests."
as all televisions became marble green tables
where supporting systems of ivy grew conversation
like brambled antlers, invalidating football
we steady to harken brown-zappa
at livingdoom central. faced with a covey of one Quayle
all communication is randomly sparse.
the cartoon identity ozone in a shopping cart
rattling the sidewalk
transforming the stockyards and files of humans.
scripts evolve, glints born of bronze, others coal.
turnip the sound
*
now that the universe makes mistakes
beauty warps reality with claustrodelic packaging;
glacial pentatheletes entrench
in mojave hombre bellybutton windows
b4dashing to windex the tofu tundra below.
they autoknow.
channeling temperaturds asleep
with christ's mutineers, their last victory knewknot
where whose song signature scripted
sots were finking,
floe lent a crack to each joke
"each ocean nuclear" where music leapt to enthrall
salmon cubes working orange bricks of wrest
using diesel verse& caterpillar heroes
finding proper victims to soothe
their metaphysical burps st bernard vishnu tankards,
always the fresh grass to fake the ghosts
let in by syd barrett
*
there at the Joie Chitwood thillshow i seen the buddha's manifold
it was a disgrace
a string of atomic trout swearing they can't be proved,
great mudlakes of geodesic mesopotamia pisspots
chrome knuckled rosaries sweating on phones
out of egypt& those stunt shows
of pharohs stomped by hippos in the Nile river of slaves
dropped in elevated trances fertilizing crop gods
with king shit right where stone cleans
linen robes with water from 2067
(1992, "to fake the ghosts let in by syd barret")
Thursday, November 9, 2017
Anna Shoemaker Bloodgood etc etc "him too"
"Anna Shoemaker, daughter of Benjamin Shoemaker (1745-1808) and Elizabeth Warner, born March 27, 1777; married, first, May 5, 1796, Robert Morris, son of Robert Morris
the "Financier of the Revolution;"
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Death Certificates Index, 1803-1915
Name: Anna Bloodgood
Birth: abt 1777
Death date: 5 Mar 1865
Death place: Philadelphia, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
_________________
"There are a few things we're all taught to notice about the Declaration of Independence: the famous preamble, the phrase "all men are created equal," the defiantly large signature of John Hancock. But off to the right of Hancock's name is the cramped signature of a man few Americans have ever heard of.
His name was Robert Morris, the nation's founding capitalist and the financier of its revolution."
________________
"From 1781 to 1784, he served as the Superintendent of Finance of the United States, a forerunner to the position of U.S. Secretary of the Treasury. As the central civilian in the government, Morris was, next to General George Washington, "the most powerful man in America."
___
"Anna Shoemaker, daughter of Benjamin Shoemaker (1745-1808) and Elizabeth Warner, born March 27, 1777; married, first, May 5, 1796, Robert Morris, son of Robert Morris the "Financier of the Revolution;" married,
secondly, Nov. 3, 1823,
Francis Bloodgood, clerk of the Supreme Court of New York and Mayor of Albany."
yvette
her body is a catapult for her eyes
her eyes are battering rams her touch is a torch
her moat has never been fathomed
her kestrel faints at smells of springs
her tournament is a testament to lust
her banners are censored of color
her chainmail chastity belt has been picked
her horns mimic herald hounds retreating
her tower inspires clouds revolving
her dragon is inspiration for ruthless whim
her bard is bored her vats of oil make heathen salad
her eclipsed eyes hurl one to her floor
her garlic garlands waft over the compound
her totem is a mouse who never scampers
her dignity only shifts to feign endearment
_______
his curvature is a used albatross
his wingspan exceeds his attention span
his sand sandwich was prescribed for acute gastritis
his chaffed epidermis reveals an aptitude
his rebellious lassitude falls flat even though
his dimples are plates of twinkle on double bankrupt lawns
his tarnished trophy is a magnet for suburb dust
his only excuse is complete nausea& holistic miscarriage
his only figures of speech are rolling blobs of muscle
his favorite move was never recorded
his pulse a poem doomed to devour critics
his collections of butterfly parts all flunked
his oldest mop had never seen the floor
his nostrils dialate before magistrates
his only alibi was the remorseful albatross
his parents bought the highway new stripes
his good grades were a curse to the nation
his relations were proud and typically underdeveloped
his breath sought garlic and garlic it found
_______
they fly in sounds of grocery carts crumbling
they make shapes of planned crowds
they harm air by living meat lies
they met maker every morning for an audit
they are scarcely audible at our range of reason
they hunger to get muddy and fart
they pieced together a new orchestra of smiles
they hurry to seem casual
they shudder inbetween the commercials
they cook their pets al dente they spoon out greetings
they make love to the gutter or the web of time
they learn to lace their gravity suit
they pray to various concepts entrapped in motive
they ride bicycles for fun they windowshop the huts of the amazon
they glue new hair on shaved continents
they see as they are seen to be wary
_________
we were related the moment we wept
we never go to the cinema without mace or smuggled candy
we lean toward aggressive heros in passive modes
we wrecked the kite in a powerline and lived
we got drunk off of trestle rain we threw spitwads
we groom bed for action we install security systems for cribs
we sing only when not showered by shards
we polka tango breakdance but never swing
we drove over the city for a bag of lousy grass
we work for those who eat and sleep also
we slop tweet and compete for a living we told the cops nothing
we became the fled shadows that haunt extradition
we smoked the evidence in a sunset of style
we sold the portfolio to a wildlife conservatory
we poke our forks in the mud for spring taters
we eat the pototos and garlic
written March 20, year unknown (2010?)--the dalles.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
harvey and marvels
it was harvey and marvel to the north
not like it mattered to my feet or mind if i wanted thru
their field of cows ever since they shot our dog
when i was a baby or later dad brought home
the squab for mom to bbq i took care of
the anthills with gasoline and firecrackers and cleaned the highway
of empty cans that their weenie dog could get
stuck in they had steep stairs with carpet
across just a ways was the split rail
which had cockfighting in the basement i was told it was
no nonsense on union and 51
where dad put his plants in the pines it was
a marvel no one saw those nocturnal angels
peppered on barn beams
noodled way different not like it mattered
*********
north down union on the gravel road
years of xmas trees, blackberry buckets, barefoot jogs,
magazine subscription cold calls,
learning to drive the datsun wagon,
walks. a backway home, later.
south on union were a few amigos, for a few years.
and the intersection a mile out
where busboys drank, leaning toward insurrection.
late show burdundy,
the scorpions or rush or van halen nothing in a stew of stars
and more oil underfoot than anywhere on planet earth
with our firebird, 280z, porsche, or vega
haunting midnight after work in the country
where headlights say hello a mile before
************
the stansfields had the brick yawn at the foot of the drive
to our three acre hippy haven and owned the
steak lobster coke and shrimp place a hundred yards away
with no windows a cinderblock shelter themed
in spats and formal attire playing joe jackson or count basie
age 3
Ore maybe 2
i ate mushrooms
out in the yard
at home in still
water oklahoma
i vividly recall
the tube down
my nose 2pump
my stomach
did i get high
may bee or knot
Saturday, November 4, 2017
tidbit teaser
rabbit rode out on a train to meet the mallard delgates
there by the Of Course Lake
near a colosseum made of mallard wishbones
and wattle and daub assorted-styrofoam boat seats
they were convening to party like mockstar
quite frankly, and share grog of peat juice
their favorite colloboration
selling well in liverpool and quebec too
when along came fox in his auto mobile
wearing a scrappy smirk and a bib
"hey fellahs need a lift"
"quack off and bite my long ears" they told Fox
he puttered off over a cliff with no impact
and rabbit and mallard entered the great colosseum
filled with giant carrot sculptures and lilly pad sofas
it was a rollicking good party
they wagered and indian leg wrestled sealed handshakes in spit and hugged,
it was a partnership of groggy prominence
and unstoppable sales potential. at the end
rabbit hopped off home under the grounds of a thousand trees
and mallard took wing with hundreds of others
to galaxies of water and nibble fish and even muskrat
is nice on thursdays
* * *
tiny leopards do enormous leaps off an endless tree
they land so softly the ground signs a check
to mother nature, gravity makes marble dust freeze in time
tiny leopards do that.
* * *
mice do their business down by the baseboard
under the sink and lick the dripwater and
do harvest dances wearing the regalia of their ancestors
and hold sunday school with free lunches and boxes of bellyjeans
mice form unions mice go sing bawdy songs mice
mice mice mice
* * *
terminator the worm gnawed a hole
thru the gas can and went to bed over a painted lovely sponge
there was moonlight thru the rustholes
he could hear cricket playing fiddle down in the bog
he could see the shadow of egret
he could be more still than an unrustable love
he could hope to go visit the full moon of no fear
or grow some wings if he was that kind of worm
and not the intergalactic robot kind
sent here to run for office, very slowly, and only
by rolling there in an okie-gypsy can
* * *
recall ye the salty old sailor and his unspeakable prowess
on the seas of most of his life never barfing
only barking orders thru waves of sloshy ocean stuff
at men men men used to taking it
with a smile and splinter remedy of octopi tears
they were setting net for the
gold mermaids however politically wrong that may seem now
recall the salty old sailor was a classic jerk
with insatiable prowess of which the gold mermaid
reluctantly and nervously dealt with
by stealing his sardines
what they were good at was ship wreck howards, so
the salty sailor would sign them up
for the tycoons on land too busy with hunting or war or football
who would escort the mermaids in their own
submersibles of fortune hunting caricatures
the salty sailor wanted nothing to do with anything but the
sea, but ya gots to pay the piper he says and
the accordions go wild and stupid stunts land blows
they sleep like dogs in a pile of rocking boat water
mermaids prefer to swim alongside,
telling their romantic tales and warning of octopi fans
in the mall and around strange sturgeons
but the salty sailor he has told them the nightmare to boil ya in shivers
make yer eyelids go peely
have ya a blister on the nose from
laughting up a tornado of slobber
while learning ya the betters
if ya'd only soak it in( thats a tough sell) but nature makes it.
* * *
they were tweenage minks, looking for trouble in rainbow land
they had a truck of hot candy at the ballgame
they sold it for a thousand gazillion double helix sand dollars
they bought mink coats for their friends
everyone was their friend
they all looked like
successful
minks, as you can imagine. slender, regal, and bathed in rainbows
they made music videos, they got old and wrinkled,
they became philosophers and said really odd things
but the rainbows had permanently colored their eyes
they were So Beautiful
that is why they became President.
library
salmon thick river rushed hard seaward
crusting over the indivisible nonsense space
delineating realms verbotten in depths sky lusted over
by bear grape &eagle
whose combine mows the wine and those who sup it
with flismy nets raven pulled &hummingbird slung
as a hammock of water
only nitrogen could stop with choice muted as the loins
of magma in a basin of
teeming ancestors eye speared by night to roast
oak's olden heartwood
self captured on microfilm from the library
salmon wrote in currents
silver
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