winfield (1989)

  

under towering elms knuckling the autumn mud we likewise pitched our ams

to the spoonfed stars periwinkling migrant in clear railroad sky, winfield

kansas, ragu phil and his alaskan sweetie passed out on a

hudson bay blankie by the campfire, nearby river swelling towards us

like a poaching beerbelly, whoopshollers& pickup trucks with

splintery side rails lurch over puddleruts and pedestrians, longbearded men falter

in the underbrush disturbing crickets gospel screetching, pulling

drunkenly on suspenders attached to the local courthouse kerosene lanterns

illuminate the hoedown of insects zeroing in on the sweaty

thighs of farmgirls, songs of heaven on earth, burps and marshmallow sacrifices,

harmonies of consensus& mister learned offers this----hey d'yall notice

the scenery's fineprint, no foreigners allowed? here in the groined heart of america

winfield kansas where the common sin is silence

glare from the bandstands rocking with standup bass while country women

twirl skirts and lyrical lassos and a freight train is passing

aways to the north, campsite of stillwater okies centered around a dug-earth firepit

where massive logs turn solid energy& radiate glowing fiendlike

on many probable characters streamline campers pulse and bob with

mating attempts the occasion rises only once a year, dirty blankets stretch under

people worn thin by the day, twelve thousand hootin kneeslappin broadbrimmed

goodole boys waiting in line fer the portapotty twelve thousand goodole girls

chickenstomp their dreams away of the vogue college scene

twelve thousand wicked younguns tell their best jokes in the pup tents

twelve thousand honkies toot their anglosaxonphones spending

a weekend amongst their own while a few of us dirthippy foreigners show them

up at their own, not so exclusive, game

 

1989, Winfield Kansas bluegrass festival

a bump on the head (2018)

  

The injured one, injures all, not inured in isolation;

A bad apple, metaphor sly weakens, rots the nation

     spreading bruise from falls or shoves,

     the outcast shadow lengthens  views on love

Done a wrong turn, "no fault of my own,"

Lucifer removed from god rib's glowing bone

     "dropped down among man, hurting us all"

     say the barrel of monkeys about the fall

Kicked out, pariah, nay saying scapegoat

Silver spoon don in his velvet waistcoat

     directing the masses, his mental instability;

     fascist-product of being dropped in his infancy,

   down on don's head a crown glowing Red

   his injured mind wishing escape from his Head 

 

2018

secret tents of Yemen (2006)

  

the music makes a rake where leaves have yet

to unfurl their blasting spirit

the twitch is notched in calibrations so the febrile

clergy might know how much force

to levy upon the faithful the roadmap took a tranquilizer

for a sense of purpose the bouzouki slapped

the ass of donkey as he tumbled down the shale of politics

the virgin said yes yes yes to a deafening chorus of

beermugs pounding the leadpaint off the table

where he danced wearing rusty milkpails of pinesap

covered not by insurance as it was the truth and

good enough for mr bigbucks

the bully threw rocks at the reflection of good in the 

pisspool he left for a thirsty dog

the continuing rain made a mockery of the desert so

they laughed a long cry the seasoned shishkabob was 

so flipping patient at the canceled hanging

the wall was not a fence but a barrier to the wall

that might outfence the fox

the shovel and rake and bulldozer turned the corpses 

so that worms could exit

the brothels chief artillery was a herpes so complex 

it made the pentagon look vapid

the camel learned to drink oil. that is how

he got the logo everlasting the humor spilled out

of the camp into the faces of orphans

until halloween's recall celebration was groped

from the feminist by a nazi now armed with nukes

it did not help, we could smell blood upon

typewritten smiles the millionth fly ate a 

smorgasbord of poop and washed it down with the Oregonian

the zit that could not pop had an 

unelected head of state the phrasing left

me speechless. luckily i had a camera and

plastic implosives the pregnant barbie doll a cultural weapon

the unwed took a seat next to the underfed

under the foot of the wellbled the bob hope tribute

shuffled aside by death of john ritter b.cuz 3's company

the upsurge was put down but it bobbed back

wobbled truthfully toward purity

the sand and storm were one with the milita man who

felt bespeckled in chaos the swan

& the sword did a silken dance by the oasis

the evening let down a fragrance of figs until the nomads

were wrapped in heaven the head had redemption

that governed the evil once could aspire to the gnat

and the turtle and the buzzard gave counsel

to the understandings lost on the fallen

the rations were severely passioned until caution

was the currency of fashion the only way

i can create this illusion is to paint a music language

i don't understand from a million wastes of

today trees who need certain conditions or they

exhume their roots and begin 

Cut short

2006, the dalles, oregon

the rotten mane (2017)

  

earth nameless stumbles into human form,  

  a suit derides in mealy pleats;

the phaeton drops them at the curb,

his cape over his klannish sheets;

dim don treads, alligator shoe-horned,

  toward his minaret of unflinching greed;

composure escapes him, a raped morn,

  liberty lady ravaged need not plead.

the vouch of slime undoes his tongue, 

 all fair and noble creature recoil;

rather air or water to quench his lust,

   don's bearings gurgle Oil.

land promises, evict the rotten mane

of tyrants tirades and more of the same.

12-14-17

Mt Tabor, Oregon

joy leaves fell limbs (2009)

  

joy leaves fell limbs (2009)

which then blew up the fruit truck

packed with pallets of hundreds

--- - a story that Razziq chuckles in recalling

while forming a bread line

U.S. officials: said:

seeded with bomb's progress

on the western outskirts

and in the pomegranate orchards

Suddenly a man (in white robes) 

fell from the branches

of the Argfangdad valley

(his suicide vest)

treacherously absent

hundreds crows of joy leaves

they fired and exploded in the trees.

--- a story that Razziq crackles

in recanting, U.S. officials unofficially said

We obliterated those towns.

They're not there at all.

These are just porking lots right now.

and in the pomegranate orchards

the ground remains seedy with largesse bestowed upon

by US officials in joy leaves

joy leaves joy leaves fell limbs from all branches

in outskirts and kerneled multiplicity

the breaks of impatience red

read in the bread

lines. hundreds of

The witch belles of Batwater (2017)

  

oracular history need nest in no mystery

just ask the Belles of Batwater;

   like towels wrung from sister seas,

   tales drip from hoodoo alma mater.

fields full of cars and attending tent homes,

riverside dock, the stage;

    yachts intermingle with hobos and gnomes

    our children magnificently crazed

pot luck spreads mimic the Columbia,

dish after dish the best hippy grub ever;

   music sunset chases, if moribund ya

   just go fer coffee& talk witty-clever

   swooping gnat gobbling, night denizens party

   the Witches of Batwater, nocturnal, less warty

    

2017 

light (2017)

  

magma deep ruled by owl's own volcano

forged the cleaver shield in minerva's tiny shell of hand

within her father who subsumed that which

imagination planted as prophecy by heavy water

in his head womb once hammered

sounded in bright birth tones

drumming rivulets of history statues in her wake

down a self sledding syncline

toward the columbia

or nile or danube

or from hydra

at speeds that light admires 

that's his son

  

            was home, the home in Oklahoma 

My father's home, sleeping outdoors on the sly 

Dad wasn't there 

The house was there, surrounded by cedars 

There was some event, art community members gathering 

Walking toward me after i just awakened 

There by a row of tables by the fence 

Where a stacked wall of pioneer stone left over unused by our chimney makers 

Separated the three acres from the highway 

I walked out to greet the visitors 

A bit embarrassed but only surprised 

I didn't see anyone I knew 

But they were familiar 

No one said 

That's his son or offered me a sandwich and coffee 

So I woke up the dream stopped 

I woke up in a bed under a roof on a mattress 

Sheets comforter and a french press cooled down from two hour nap 

Home, home on the range in my browser 

Home lyrics on my mind 

  

He been feeding ole smoky 

With creamer to go, 

Those pull top build up i'm betting you know  

The cat barely move 

He eighteen ages plus 

Haggard but loved the only thing he trust 

Been robbed been cheated 

The girl lean on the mop 

Supposed to be working not riding the clock 

He's done he swears he fires 

But misses, fires but rehires 

Grime hits the recliner  

What next exasperation his driver 

 

They late or stay worthless 

Her guy has the wheels, he drops her off 

Come back for his meals  

It takes nine creamers 

To keep happy the cat 

A mountain of empties well that's that 

The other gal argues 

More and less same, neither one tame 

It not their place straighten up this mess 

 

She wants to go hot tub 

That's not on the tab, her shift leans crooked 

More mean eyed than blab 

They both far too old 

For a boss to let it go, but immature in training 

Think it could snow 

Throw up the arms, steamed under the collar 

It's faithful the let downs 

One tops the other  

We sort thru the shoe box  

For a the phillip heads orphan 

Gotta be here somewhere they reckon 

 

The hours stagger past 

Clean out the freezer, prehistory thaws 

Can i get a draw 

Mein (2011)

  

mein street

consensus forged

behind closed whores

now is that good business practice?

open mein street

the elk decrees liberty

contiguous, contagious

unadulterated and

wholed, hearty and not yet hale

though i lean

toward jeffersonian

anti-slavery hyperbole 

10-18-11 

Portland 

Stratum (2021)

  

Beetles spiders methheads dogsatlarge my slumbering torso ignores on a case 

By case basis, as mornings slaughtered blue jay bits rain down amidst a phalanx of squirrels who know neither upnerdown 

The coastal redwood trunk whose roots sup the labor of my nocturnal efforts in that I park atop a sprinkler and summarily flood my headboard and not the fickle late july lawn 

Leaving me to nogginscratch the falling rusty fronds surmising their burn from the billionaire space limos 

Powered by life in servitude to a grass misunderstanding of basic life ingredients 

7-22-21 

SE Portland