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crumbs fill into the cracks
winds whip through the back door
drifting poppyseeds to the spots where the ants
make do with the seeds what I would do too

March Archives

steps fall with the snow
a recess so you know who
passed and who stalled
black night sky leaves ice
where sun had slushed
so to follow your steps is to
fall all over again

_____

tin foil
on floor
__________

chocolate teeth
chewing treat

Baby Cart on the Whiskey River Stix

Shogun Willie pushes a cart
parts of the forest whisper Willie
Whipoorwills and swallows fly
from hill to hill
the mirage is quiet the day is hot
the sun is burning patches in the grass
green enough but not
blood red yet soon though up ahead

The Jagru Clan has a hideout
under a bridge on the side of the park
where junk accumulates in the dark recesses
hurricanes passes overhead
a dry spot a mist descends
and their decent scriptures get wet
wetter than the blood that filled veins

Its that time of day when people stop
to play with their children
hungry lips glisten with rice flecks
fingers beckon along a sinister mile
shops stand slanted and croppy
poor people slooping with dropsy
their eyes and nose mush for the toads to
flick flies from between glasping sighs

The scene is beginning to crowd with prams
but on in particular stands out its wooden
sides high and bare of toys
just a bottle of shiskey hugged tight by a tot
swill drool at the thought of how its tropish
to take booze from a baby
never mind that its Shogun Willie pushing the damn
kid the wide eyes soaking blood visions
grimmer things than thimbles filled to the brim
blood red blood oozing incisions precise cataclisms
missing limbs faking organic electric rythms

The Jagru Clan knows their foe
full of mercy but empty of compassion
the executor of a million wills and testaments
old and new trees reach up for the stars and spread
leafy remnants of the people buried long ago
and they see from behind brown wooden glades
that Shogun Willie must sleep  mustn't he?

MACEO PARKER

MACEO BLOWS THAT HORN
MACEO PARKS THAT CAR
PARALLEL
PERPENDICULAR
PERPLEXITY PERPPPPPPETUAL
PEPTIDES PEPTOSAURUS

MACEO FUNK CAT
WALK THAT
CHALK LINE PROPHET
BLACK BRASS BELLS
FELT KEYS TREBLE YELLS

raindrops keep dripping on my head

its trash day
that means collecting
cramming stuffing crushing discord
bagging and heaving all the wrappings
the trapping that pile up along the walls
throwing them off the porch

Shogun Willie

Shogun Willie sits around in his kimono
Monotone homonids dance around the phono
it rings it rings
it sings it sings

Shogun Willie doesn't have a care
He's got a lot of doing and nothing to hear
he brings he brings
people things people things

Shogun Willie plays bass in a country band
The pearls he wears came from east japan
they gleam they gleam
we dream we dream

Shogun Willie learned a thing or two
He broke the bank coming home from school
he spends he spends
again again

Shogun Willie rides a big brown horse
in the darkest part of the old grown forest
wooden trees wooden trees
appease appease

Shogun Willie makes us laugh and pleade
the jokes dont stop till the sun starts to blead
rising sun rising sun
meatball fun meatball fun

Shogun Willie went out to the barber shop
brought his kitana sword along to chop
the law the law
is raw is raw

Shogun Willie got deposed just the other day
the people say their hearts are heavey, way
so sad so sad
he's bad he's bad

Shogun Willie got burried in the deep brown ground
the flowers grow there on top of a mound
perennials biennials perennials biennials
machinegun sentinels machinegun sentinels

Shogun Willie has receded in our memory
the spacey neurons are mercilesly
unforgetting moments unforgetting moments
brain escarpments brain escarpments

Shogun Willie is more myth than man
the trumpets sound but dont make plans
cold brass cold brass
doesn't last doesn't last

snow pack

here the snow is mostly gone
the shade keeps its cold going
longer though and dirty   streets need a good
sweeping before we can hang sheets on the line outside

though it rained a few days ago,
it was not enough.  every step lifts dust
enough to make you cough
or snuffle or worst, its something to bring a sickness down
cold in the head while the land warms up every day
a little more

up north not far from here the snow is four feet deep
still and more is coming
the water is icy and the squirrels are antsy

cleaning up broken slates

strings sucked up
contained tornatos, denominae tomato
potato

cucumber spinach patch beans on a vine leafs all green

summers almost here
but its still snowing!


clean clean clean

Blood Orange Sanguine

shall we write a satire
an ovre to the tamales in the oven
lost pieces, critical ingredients found steaming or hard baked
loaves no longer edible, chocolate chip cookies
with chipped teeth, lettuce with human heads
cabbage as a testament to the power of education and
a founding principle we found as an insert
in the big book God's big book, "How to cooke like Captain Cook"

on page one I ate the ink and on page two I drank the pulp
puking it all up in a puddle by the plinth in the corner
the dessert was even worst, it was Dodo Yodo Yogurt
and the recipe called for fresh 1-year Dodo fed exclusively with rice
(where am I even supposed to get Yogurt anyway??)

Here we be, hungry floating in an endless sea
the sun searing us, now rowing the oars with steaks for hands
mutton chop cheeks dripping saltwater brazing, marinaded
toes and feet in Cretaceous dreams
visions of sugar plum fairies dividing us, conquering us, vini vidi vicesglutonyangerennui

And the tub of a boat we wrote in our satire
it was sinking slowly in tandem with the Devonian sun, the middle
period, an eon it took, a lapping started to be followed by a chanting, the waves
wavering and hesitating to break and sink our sorry ship,
the cooke broke down and decided to hang before he'd drown, and but for we being
Christ-ians we did not relieve our fast on his fatty flesh and all lent(nopunintended) a hand
t
o
pass
h
i
s
body aft
before
it bloated and soared
farty and fast
to the left or right
heaven
a
t
l
a
s
t

driving in a fast car with tracy chapman

riding supernatural pathways in halftime
syncopath stays holding binge for days skylightings
bringing pangs and tinges dinger singes
patches of action
careening machines
wheels of steam fleeced beams bearing the age about to begin
baleen streaming the wind screams in your ears a seamless
rapture
the big bad wipers striking wet drop options off the windscreen
an endgame a concorde mach ten to lexington
we concourse the planet forming a endzone from endloaded
and mankind digs it from dead end to dead ahead its
realistic and feted.

whats is there thats left us unsaid?

Herns at the break of day

Herns at the break in the ice
discern their colored eyes
yellow with black spaces
hungry as the ducks diving opaque quests
under polar replicas, each one a metric
of spring arrived too late but too early all the same