Saturday, April 29, 2006

Sidney The Shrinker

He sits at the next table
with his PDA and his
thick lips stuffed
with successful gambling.

He chases spirits
back into bodies,
makes ghosts into
pellets of fertilizer.

He smiles
and the girth
of the world shrinks
and the Earth's pants
fall down.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Jennifer and Jim

When I see them on the bus
they are drunk
on the crunch
of talking to each other.

It is a private sentimentality,
old times sake
that transforms them
into personalities they never were,
fictions with days
paralleling their own.

Two people
worn thin
laughing too loudly
missing each other when they part,
hoping to meet again.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Perverse Times

Nowadays
we have short people
bossing tall people around
and children
leading their parents
the strong
begging mercy from the weak.
It is
a cult of good manners
and it looks so funny.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Lunch in the Hudson Bay Cafeteria

Built at a time when air was cheap
it has more space than it needs.
Solemn echos surround the flags and
matrons dressed in white
employed to cook and mother.
A large symbolic paddle wheel
clatters comically on it's ancient motor
beside a pale antique diorama of the river.
We bring trays
of veal and trifle.
The ceiling is a formalized caprice
like a stage set in animated fantasy,
with ceremonious lamps somehow made friendly
laughing to themselves as they sprout
from roots in the broken clouds.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

The Arts and Da Blues

I got the blues, da blues, the
addicted to audience blues.

I got the
nobody clapped lately blues,
the God's eye has turned the other way,
waiting in line for love,
daddy didn't pick me up on time
from boyscout camp
blues.

I got the sharing the stage
but hogging the spotlight wish blues,
the loser blues,
the end of the week and not a word
blues.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

The Trial

Even though
she is a small thing
with a rudimentary soul
who sleeps alone in the cellar
and doesn't have speech,
I still had to earn
her love.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Power of Song

I have a 10 second maximum
memory for music. Little melodies
stay in my mind for years, repeating
until the essence of the song
dries to a tubercle.

When I, absent-mindedly doing dishes, go:
bedop bedop bedop bediddle bedop bedop,
I am eight and it's May Day in Lacey Park Pa..
I have on my crisp dungarees
and particular straw hat
Mrs. Driscole ordered us to buy,
doing the Mexican Hat Dance,
heel toe heel toe,
with my partner Ruth.

Partnership is fresh
shining like a present.
I have to hold her hand, which is
strong and fat.
Each girl's hand is different,
all made of special flesh,
scarey.
I want it to last.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Human Development

Light green babies
open the door of the Earth
in Spring and sigh at the
strengthening sunlight.

But boots are waiting
just out of sight and
hidden among dying bodies
of mother trees
are steel monsters.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Grimm's Fairy Tales

I make a bargain with the magician
even though the risks are high.
The cogs and gears of magic
are not built with tolerence for failure.
Although I try
I may trip and be delayed
just as the moon turns red
or in my muddle
may hear the wrong words revealed
when I would be safe only in ignorance.

In these murky days,
the woods wriggling with penalties,
voices calling from churches
and tombs, it's very cold.
Even love doesn't warm me.
My neighbors drift
from shape to shape,
ugly and human.
I can make an error and
write a formula for curses.

Saturday, April 08, 2006

My Walk Last Wednesday

Through the last and
South East corner of the
final Home Depot parking lot
on slanted grass
I enter a gateway
striped with the scrawlings
of alien art while day life
hums and rumbles over me.

The nobody cares land
lays masked by what had been
left on it, camouflaged by
averted eyes. I am Dorothy,
Alice opening secret gardens.
Vegetable will scraggles to its survival
in the ragged, thin grit,
re-lives, rises from the dead.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Ah Spring

By April,
all the geese
are married
just like me,
masked behind
ghosts of last year's tall grass.

The great herds are broken
into pre-pubertal memory
of unembellished days.

Here in my bower,
not quite green yet,
the soft humunculus, love
has skittled behind the bushes
when I was feeling mean
and won't come out.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Fable About War

A long time ago,

after the deaths of the persons in the first generation
and the second generation saw the deaths of its parents,
the young King sent an army of conquest out to the farthest reaches of the known world with the mission to explore and destroy.

Rumor came back through messengers and by way of tales that carried over the great distances that a mighty War-Lord Conquorer was destroying the soldiers one by one, mysteriously at the distant edge of the range of modern knowlege, but that he was cutting a swath of conquest toward the known world as well.

The King, who by now approached middle age, grew frightened and organized a platoon of his most experienced knights to find and kill this marauder. He sent his elite patrol away into the mist of distance and tried to rest his mind.

Years later, rumors started to circulate that many of the knights of the platoon had already been killed and that the enemy had not yet been identified. The King's mind was nerveless with fear. The friendly members of the court had all aged and stopped laughing.

On a clear day in early Winter, a ragged, beaten knight burst into the court chamber and collapsed on the floor. The King was aghast. "What has happened," said the King to the knight whom he recognized as one of the youngest members of the elite patrol.

Raising his grey head, the knight said, "all of my brothers have perished in an alien place. But we found the enemy. "The Future is the tyrant we are trying to kill."

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Limit to Imagination

If, when we travel
through space and time
we meet a people
composed of air
who build cities
made of raindrops,
would we care?