puttin together a probate trajectory

from the speculative chances that our lady
sister
motiffa
took while building her orphanage empire,
complete with black babies
brown babies and white babies, we ascertained that
safety is in the eye of the beholder, not beauty

but the sister corrected us with a soothing rap:
a chillin
a chillin
the dealer
is a wheelin

don’t worry about the lyrics
for it was not the lyrics that soothed,
but motiffa’s firm grip on the baseball bat
and her command of the noun ‘paternity’

…………………………………………….
…………………………………………….

meadow fresh full of children

me and all these children
– we’re running around in freakin circles
– and the autumn air is correctly fresh

there is no game that we are playing
these freakin kids don’t realize that
we’re supposed to have a goal
– to have a challenge
– to have a standoff of some sort

they just run and laugh like freakin idiots
I get caught up in it
– the madness of it
– O’ my shoes get stupid grass stains

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The entwistle of Lowry

sardined the saturated tomatoes

and he ate them with fruits

But vegetables were tworse before late afternoon

– beloved jose, how we miss m.

Ah – but a rarsNoon it done a good for us to be,

so we do, aye, we do.

october storage problems

if you get frozen by the weeds that arrange themselves
from a ray-lit shade of green to a pair of opposing variances,
blow your stored wheat and forgive allusions and yester’s grain;

harvest, starvest, narist’s creed –
whether you amount or leave not yourself a meaningful yield,
the sun will dip as it should;

eu-whhhh – avengence for johnny D.

“eu-whhhh … eh, eh, eh, eh.”

Cowboys with sadistic laughs scare me; that don’t mean you can put on a cowboy hat and laugh sadistically and expect me to be afraid of you – that just means you’re a poser and I’m about to kick your balls with my boots.

here is the story …
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Too plainly verses were read from the Bible, for not the pastor nor the funeral goers knew the dead driver of the cargo van. Mourning, a woman asks, “What happened? Did you hear? Who was the passer-by?”

“An unidentified cowboy who had been galloping up the highway on the mare he loved – a jaunt, just a jaunt, easy no doubt – when a cargo van on cruise control flew by, being chased by a rottweiler. She was snatching at the bumper. Run dogedy bitchedy dogedy dogedy dogedy dogedy run!
“The bumper’s metal aggravated the bitchedy dogedy dogedy dogedy dogedy run’s teeth’s fillings. So, I reckon, instead of giving up, the dog sprinted to the front of the van, climbed onto the front bumper, shimmied onto the cumbersome hood, stood in front of the windshield, and did a rain dance.”

“A rain dance? What for,” according to the first mourning lady.

“Well, you see, there just is not a way to be sure. You see, at that moment clouds blew in overhead and blocked the view of the satellite camera that was recording the event from getting any more pictures from up close and personal. But you should remember that the coroner found a drop of rain in one eye of the cargo van man and two drops of saliva in the other, which caused the driver of the cargo van to lose the wheel long enough that the van cruised off the bridge and into the pond 28000 centimeters below.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Meanwhile, somewhere in dusty Montana, the cowboy listened to his favorite harmonica record along with frustrated humanitarians. In his sleep he spoke: “Great day in the morning, I’ll avenge the driver’s fall.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Meanwhile, at the funeral, those ladies were still babbling during the epilogue reading of the epitaph: “Well, as you can imagine, when the cowboy galloped over the bridge and saw the rottweiler pissing on the dead body he took a double take that equaled mud and disgrace. The cowboy confronted the dog and said, ‘what the hell!?’ The bitch replied, ‘hey, I drug his drowned body onto the shore so I should have the bow wow right to piss on him.’”
The lady continued, “And, well, the rest is for the books. The cowboy avenged the cargo van man’s death exclaiming his gall with a cool puff of the hot barrel, which was the sound you heard at the beginning of this short story.”

The first lady said, “My my my my, all is swell in my life, there are no cold days in hell, the Baptist coalition makes me pure. When somebody gives me their blessing I am just so glad that it is done that I stay happy the rest of the day. And those that struggle to climb out of the political swamp of love are ridiculous. Who was the driver by gosh?”

“He was Johnny Dumbously, and he was a great swimmer.”

The first lady sighed, “I am too numb to respond, and too apathetic to give a hoot.”

Bain St.

death be down on Bain St.
surprisingly. but, the people
eat cheese.
they tell each other that
the streets
they should be cleaned.

if you walk by, they will look at you
if I walk by, they may look towards my way

and say what completes
the statement that they
were
already making

35 cent coffees

it’s a crowded, guarded, crowd
with all the crowd crowding through the corridor
Oriental paislies
well
at least pieces
all over the corridor floor for
softening features like crowd feet
and
waling-light white-spurting the
doors halls jacket racks doctors sistras -n- me

this place was built over a year ago
there are black and white pictures on its walls
that try to tell us its past

these days there are coffee vending machines
aluviating limps with a litany of eyes
looking at lumps ligaments lesions long tails
lying on rocks sunning like a crowded colony luring
warm light sun goes down it becomes night

a great poor man’s meal

the children were all standing along the gate
each of them cried in their foreign language
the man poured rice into the old shoe and stirred in water
there was no lighter fluid, there was no fire
there was water and there was a shoe

there were potatoes
4 months to our past a large sack was driven in
it’s great to rejoice over the gift
we remember when we saw them land
now there are three potatoes remaining

the man stirred 2 into the shoe

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

well spoken fronter

condensed of powdered pug
horizons awoke from sour song,
tapping opposing feet and rolla
twirling til the believers swooned

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..
……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

fall aint the over part hopefully

this old lady
half decrepid as hell
all broken and done

thin

picks her shoes with some kind of
thing that is long and helps her.
october 2 : if you don’t smell Oct’ 2
you will not live as long as
that decrepid old lady

fall smell in those first leaves that have landed.
wet drop water drops sunly open on stands of our grass yard
are unique on Oct’ 2

decrepid old lady walks on the street that
is outside the window of the kitchen where
I make turkish coffee
and I open the window and ask her good morning

on kleshe

is simon chiseling that stone?

you know I told him ‘leave it be’
you heard me didn’t ya.

I guess that stone will come to
a personality that I can recognize or
if not

to a personality that maybe you can.

I suppose simon will act upon it
for three hours per night, after his
long days at work, officing and such.
yeah I suppose if he’s
got the energy he’ll spend more than
three hours per night.

morning at mildred’s

good morning
– sun rising extendin a new day across the land
smile sunshine
– ahh a pretty sky

wine jibber before jabber it’s

I’ll look at the maps after
I take a shower
if you don’t mind

after I take a shower,
then I’ll plan for the future

right now I’ll head to the shower
to bathe my nuts
and while there I’ll use
the mirror to examine
my important smile

but even before that I’ll
get a fresh washclothe

beautiful sunset stripper

rheumatism a la concorde
– jet no
– document no
hey pitcher, throw the ball

steel stilts as per Dawn Janice
– girlfriend no
– acquaintance no
throw the ball, pitcher

juvenile terrace diner cafe
– food no
– drink no
drop the puck

a careening automobile
– true no
– me no
drop the god damned puck, ref

toast boat 01

The boat had to go somewhere
if it didn’t it would still be sitting here

its’ getting lost is unexpected
you would expect a trip to a place
and then a trip back

or a trip to a place and a new time
where delighted people would join in time like years later

but when the boat left the dock no one was disappointed
so don’t be disappointed today
the boat must be somewhere

toast boat 04, re-production

Gene had raspberries in an open bookmark, setting up a fair
reproduction of the 5th symphony
in a sonnet;

all this was on the facing page, towards the reader.

And skvels didn’t touch the berries, nor did dirty hands nor
dirty shovels,
but yet the clay flavor on them made me think that there was some dirt, but too small to be seen;

I didn’t bother – my mind was set for lunch durn right on time at 12:00 noon … I ate the raspberries;
one way or the other their
fried crisp opportunities were
ever on my concentration

at cars driving away, unawares of pleasures and not particular about food.

toast boat 18

forcing hands to walk forward
freshing stands for the crowd tomorrow
telling oars to paddle more
hot tulips engage the guests

june dates evade the crests of
crashing cycles that speed to death

dashing sand upon them hell
stiffening peers gaze beyond
freezed in a river gone gone remote
vested in a faith, the art the leather
pacing doubts of doubters lows
holding pen posing shows

found nude in manhatten

I spent probably more energy
than was necessary aiming
the shower head at the gnat in the room.

– Because the gnat had been born a flier
he used
various flying techniques to get away,

and eventually I stopped
using the shower nozzle
as a weapon
against
the gnat, and chose rather
to jump from the rusty fire escape

chewing newspaper

there’
s no-
thing else that I’m doing tomorrow
I’m just sitting around

do-ing nothing
other than

d r i v i n g the
wrong

way down the road

next door we may be an ass

Some Mennonites moved in next door and warmingly offered
a pound of asian rice to me and my family
I told them they were stupid for giving away their rice
of course they said they were sorry and they offered
an australian pear to me and my family
I told them they were stupid for giving away their pear
in return they, being so kind, gave me a regret for my distress and a freshly baked bread
I explained how stupid they were.

because they were such good people they
said they were sorry and
they offered to me and my family a sack of peruvian potatoes
and a pail of milk with flakes of utter skin
I looked at them into their beady eyes and told them
that they were unrealistic, stupid, and unwelcome
in my neighborhood
for their behavior was out of touch with the reality that
I wish for my family to adhere to
they felt horrible and gave me two cuts of London Broil
I told them they were stupid for giving away their steaks
of course they said they were sorry and they offered
apples, raisins, and canadian granola
I told them they were stupid, knowing what I knew

a drunkard’s nigh upon late

The prudent alternative to slamming glasses down in

a public brewhause would be to kindly speak to your neighbor

and, with an audible speak, say “Well surely my my that brew was so good” ,

for this is not a mad barren outpost among the thieves and scoundrels

where bloodied specters ransack ceremony.

The woodened tables at which we slobber have forthrightly hosted

the best of your despairs and our lies, and so why not yell as would a humble man

digesting his peas and burping quietly.

tables

furthermore
the frantic people live on rice
walking fast
eatin ducks
killin hoards of loaves
of tadpoles and clothes
on lines of dryers in heat
in waves, obedient, dosed
closed

but
the farmer raises pigs
drinks beer
plows
has a table
and guests

foreign through sight

these people that I see,

when they walk with their flutes
staying at crosswalks

  while children on bicycles with their playtime charm
  discuss biographies about great trees,
  gladden at icecream and harvest the
  plums so gradually in plenty

get ready for the winter the way squirrels
do, remember the
old
holidays

cotton gin

All right – this is a song about the cotton gin:

the cottton gin … the cotton gin …

All right – I made that up, there aint no song about the cotton gin, I made that up; but there ought to be a song about the cotton gin; I got a feeling that if any of you write a song about it that it will do well;

the sojourn, the days

the streamlined boat sits in the dock.

the tv cameras take pictures of it.

the boat has a captain,
the captain has children,
the children have friends;

they have parents,
who have tickets
to ride on the boat…
the boat has an engine!

the engine has a maintenance staff.
the staff loves pizza
which was invented in Canada,

where people with tickets live –
na, na, na, na … Canadians never travel

tie onto the floor

the deliciousness of a juice

was

all the woman needed to
bring the child’s friends and birthday party
to a place and way she

had hoped from her childhood
that
her
kids
would one day have … bicycles and
tracking MUD
through the kitchen, and
her
husband throwing his tie onto the

floor, wrestling the kids, throwing
baseballs with the kids
( not yelling because
of
shattered windows)

mrs. zimmerman’s saffron

me and my brother donny used to run in the summertime. it was

good, the smell of air
and little old mrs. zimmerman’s potted saffron on her porch.

donny would knock on her door and talk a hundred miles an hour; he would tell her

about catching crayfish down in the creeks and sexual couples behind the skating rink.
( old lady mrs. zimmerman liked his stories, I believe, but that one )

.
.
.
I guess I was too young to
know for sure, but I have a feeling that
she had lost the man in her life;

she never said as much to donny but herself talked about the

sock hops and the elvis and the being so special that she got to go behind the

soda fountain where the soda jerk poured smiles and syrups.

explosion

a hole, a backbone, and balance

You have to find balance with this new life. The hole that made you fall over isn’t going to go away. So you look towards your backbone and with much grief you ask, “can you adjust so that I can go on – so that I do not die.”

But there is no guarantee that your strength will come through for you and so you better be ready to request it again and again.

But your back will always hurt now because it leans. It’s rude to fill the hole up with waste so you have to fill it up with memories only – though it will never be enough to bring you into balance ever again.

field … 06

field … 05

lemonade

walking out to the ledge
the struggling life
,heavily empained,
carried the
batch
of lemonade and yet
still
They said comments

Sally. The Children.

“There’s no chance with the frozen ice conditions.

The mosquitoes have died off, that’s good, but
other than that we’re in trouble.”

…

…

green army men sat on his desk.

…

clock behind him slowly on the wall.

…
…

…
…

Sally. The children.

Every thing was infinite
and everything was zero.

Helicopters ran into each other. The pilots burned.
Safety Ropes
Safety Harnesses
hanging in flames,
crisping in fire|
Rotating full speed : propellers : ground. Dead men. News.
Helicopters; rescue helicopters; observation planes;
birds soared til their feathers plucked out by
force air, fierce ire, oga-door oga-door.

Sally. The Children.

a story about a sponge

“How’s the sponge … ?”

“It’s working.”

a tribute to Vasquez Cubador, a ponderous man created as a subject of this epiD

“‘A how how how how’, those were
the lyrics of the great Romanian leftist,
Vasquez Cubador, a late addition to the
pre-psychedelic classicism movement known as romantic
jazz. ‘The wings

of that era haven’t been clipped’, I think was
what Vasquez wanted to tell us all, that the
foundation,
the struggle, for eye-derated fairness,
for opportunity, were brilliantly alive
in the 1/16 rhythms of his homeland Romania

And so it is, that here on this rural carolina
farm, on a spring-fresh day in June, 20 boys
are hung by their nasals to celebrate
the great life of a Romanian leftist

A HOW HOW HOW HOW

it’s always sam

… Sam!? … you want sam there’s
no Sam here at the store
but talk to me … what do you want

a separator? a separator
to
separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs
we don’t have those

what else, honey, talk to me
a purse? To hold your disorder and ribbons …
we don’t have those here honey

let me go now
this is not the right place for you
… … … sam would have been
nicer to you ?? I can’t
help you honey – what do you want from me

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
try this poem: woman screamed
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

collection of a columnist

first-person writin and vindikaten’ frequently, using
a chosen set of language
elements
– adverbs, adjectives, descriptive valuables –

chosen unwarmly and incompletely from a dictionary on a 1989
sleety winter night.

The consequence of this incompletion
is an almighty shortcoming akin to
the balding of a star …

I was picking out my words, and nearly finished that night, when there was a knock on my door. Standing and waiting at my door was a man in an unfamiliar black trench coat; he quietly under his breath told me, “there’s a whole lot of crap that I read last night.” He sneakily looked from left then sneakily looked to right, and then he said, “I was reading through a couple of magazines, one of them was called blank, and they were occupied by stuff equaled to crap – why oh why was it written.”

then he shot me through my skull
by means of a pistol that he had had hidden in his

unfamiliar black trench coat, leaving me stuck
ever since

with an incomplete collection of 1989 adverbs, adjectives, and
descriptive valuables.

a great poor man’s meal

there were potatoes
4 months to our past a large sack was driven in
it’s great to rejoice over the gift
we remember when we saw them land
now there are three potatoes remaining

bird animal flying

each limb on the limb tree
was wooden

with twigs grown and twigs
fallen, sitting on the ground below,
looking like twigs that will

decompose, or
be picked up, stood upright into a bundle, and
placed in a basket, carried to a drier and
to await a fire

As the monkey animal placed his bottom
into a comfortable wedge in the tree, he

worried
none
about the twigs but rather fruits,

looked through his eyes
toward flowering places
and went, sort of crawling through limbs
from one forest tree to another, crawling
wonderfully like a bird animal flying

the uppercase dee

It was a trash-talkin idea. But it had scope even so. The tunnel was well known everywhere in the area: it was very long, probably 2 and a half kilometers, and as soon as you come out you’re on a bridge that’s almost surely way way high, with concrete columns that I bet are too tall and about to break one day snap.

The Darkness with the uppercase dee had surrounded the boy and his dog. They were hopeless now and it was best to give up. The boy, near 26,27 years old, loaded him own self and his dog into his car and headed to that tunnel. The idea was to enter it at a moderate speed and then open the liquor bottle and drink before reaching the exit end of the tunnel, and so surely by then he would be tossed fully. Once out and onto the bridge, he would slowly pull the car over to the side of the road, up against the guard rail. Drunk, he would get him and his dog, on a leash, out of the car, being careful to not get sideswiped by fast passing cars, and walk over to the edge and jump down. It’s hard to know if the boy would have comforted his dog as they were falling.

chewing newspaper

ther
e’s no
– thing else that I’m doing tomorrow
I’m just sitting around

do-ing nothing
other than

d r i v i n the
wrong
way down the road

for instance, 2

for instance, 3

uncle jordan’s bob sleddin team

Uncle Jordan wants to start a bobsleddin team

he’s got a calendar for the days available;

3 repeat offenders have been calling him

they’ve been calling him Uncle Jordan;

bob sledding is a sporting event

croquet is a dance

half lives tell how long the chemistry will last

name callers lose track of their prey;

Cousin Bob has got a team

he calls it the Uncle Jordan’s Bob Sleddin Team.

adults must diplomate

an arrogant pollster came
in
to throw out the teaser,
the bait and the question

to throw out the ticker the punch the
blow. The nags
the idiots
the equestrian
winners of late so trepsiing each …

to the point the pollster is sorry
and just leaves. He takes with him
no gratifying
and satisfying
squares on paper

thievin kid

it’s pretty simple:
the little thieven came in
and swooped up my rice
Had you been payin attention
you’d have seen it comin

He had a fork in his right hand
and used it to gerrymander
the charters of possession:
the little thieven stole my rice
… while samples of 80’s music
popped out the Hot Dance Hits spot
on the dial

if the falling birds

it’s not tough when you
see the birds falling
from the blades: just try
hard to recall your provisions:
in your package was two
rations of MREs and a
mission to solve unexpected
challenges
and so you have it: your
mandate that can guide you
and your professional network
to peace: just solve the problems
as you encounter them. don’t bury
your guide because of political
affiliations, for you cannot boast that
you are an engineer if you are
really a worker guilded in agendas

bloody greens

“Looking out from beneath a shady awning over the gallery, members cozy, and overseeing the fairly broad flow of red blood coming down the greens, golfers in plaid bell-bottoms…”

The editor finished there. And using a post-it, messaged back to the submitter, “cliche and dull, trampid and aimless” and handed it back to his secretary who laughed and relished in the rejection note, her fingers fast scrolling through her contact list for a channel to reply to the submitter.

I eat grasshoppers

formidable people
are not
like grasshoppers
uh!
who would say such a thing
come-on

look at the mud
look at the girls
come-on

alike?

maybe the background noises here
the sports channels
the people cryin laughing
the chairs scraping
the tractor trailer truck crashing down walls
the harpsichord in my head
the bartender dropping bottles
the pizza stretching
mottled the words
otherwise I know the deviant said so

catching splashing hors d’oeuvres

Foolish!
and flippant and greedy

sleazy people sittin in the crowd
dyin to eat maidens, pour
hors d’oeuvres from trays onto the floors,
yell @ all the old people, and scratch
their heads to send a sign
you want fresh bread
well
I got it
come to me
hand me your money
sell me your cat
buy my nickel platings
carpet
people must clean
what do they earn
when will they improve their lot

where do they take home their dirty feet
why do they spend this time

who did they see this day
does Doris elevate the sun
does Doris sit in a chair
does Doris listen to harmony
my porch. your porch.

joseph maria – O the pity … edit-3

night crickets lye bored in the
grass by the walkway into the building

I strutted strong up the avenue
with the heavy bars of the pure gold
in my pockets

up the sidewalk

the steps

through the front door

to the room where the men met

and displayed my gold
and unimpressed they said
thanks for your time

dropping polaroids onto the town

dropping polaroids ( they
been kept in a old box ) from
the balcony ( this home is in
fact a penthouse way up high! )

.. really angered the tailor ( why? )

Every time the images roll over
and over in the daylight city:
the sun grabs ’em, sparkles ’em,
melts ’em drip-schlooping on
the grand tapestry hung today for
the arrival …

worse thing I ever did

put a used guitar under the tree

tv antenna

Rockdannabee

Rockdannabee came to the windowsill quietly, her
cup of coffee spilt in her hair
And, like trice before, she sang-
though being her tune was out of key
reminded me of the housekeeper.
Feverishly, she in the bedroom kept jewelry
with montagues of perspiration
Alas at night when it was
at the stories’ ending goodbyes,
Rockdannabee gave in and struggled to paint
her cries

monstruous abusive thunder

the rat a tat tat scored like
a monstruous abusive thunder unexpectedly
from our hallway dark and closed off
for the time
as steelers in the living room playing vs bengals,
my wife naps
and there is an infant making
sleepy gurgling noises in a new bedroom crib

to the hallway door I go
to conceive the
gunfire: bandits exploring our territory
wearing masks of man stockings with
eyes nose and mouth cut out

I fought them
I fought the bandits
I used keys from my pocket
against them

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
poem: next door we may be an ass
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

dignitity go not thou out ma door … edit-2: changed punctuation

it was 1753
the ole winch
drug home a pork
in a wet damp filthy bucket

entering our very door
i repudiated her,
instructed her of
the states dignitity

the hundreds of years!
she worked to break-a me,
to win, shoving crud
into ma soup

and lo
today I smile at the dinner she serves
scraps discarded by folk nearby
going around the dancing ball

———————————————————————————————————————————————————
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√

√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
———————————————————————————————————————————————————

letter to Rosetta

letter to Rosetta

Rosetta, baby, I got hold of documents and files saying that you’ve been going out with the guy who likes to sell can openers when he can. Well, baby, let me say… I was there when he got the can opener job.

Rosetta, baby, if it weren’t for you knowing me you wouldn’t’ve met him, and iiiii made him!

Rosetta, baby, let me tell you what he said that fateful day last Spring; he said:

“Excuse me Mr. sir,
I got so’um for you
news you might want to know;

that man that came into your office
yearlier this year, I have had it
that I have seen him
eatin’ poor man’s steak
in a
coat and tie
just damn like a your’ns;

and so Mr. sir,
that what I’ve come here to tell you,
that you’ve not a sensible reason to
concern of him
because he is of no caliber
and because he is of no concern.

I saw him eatin’ poor man’s steak
you’ve no things you should worry
about.”

And Rosetta, baby, that’s when I came into this meeting with the bossman chopping off your present day can opening lover’s freaking head practically because the bossman was insulted about a comment made about his suit.

I, baby, came into this meeting saying, “bossman, listen, he wasn’t insulting your suit.”

I had to say it, baby, because the bossman was a big man. He was a red haired asshole that loved his job and got argumentative about insults against his suits.

That, I understand, Rosetta, kitty, and now I figure you wont let it pass you again – the understandin’ of what and why I said that if it weren’t for you knowing me you wouldn’t have met the can opening man I saved from the bossman’s chop. And I made him. Reply soon.

sincerely,
“lovin’ you till the day I die, baby”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

return letter from Rosetta

John, how are you doing?

I got your letter. It felt good to hear from you but the letter has left me confused. Besides, we haven’t dated for years and that red headed bossman … he’s the one who snatches my love and mowers my absolutes daily.

love ya,
Rosetta

Johnny challenges Tom

“fantastic fantastic”
the choir sang in jubilee
all the rowdy bunch shut up

except for Tom … Tom was
on a smooth talkin hunt
with this lady in the gymnasium
seats. She had her children with
her and her husband but that

didn’t stop Tom from his noisy
expedition

When the big door at the back
of the gym opened up, it was
Johnny that walked in. He was
cowboy tired of the inappropriate
behaviors at choir concerts
everywhere. Johnny had been at the
stallion pavilion just 2 buildings
away, so he was able to get to
this down-lo distraction in the time of its progress.

He worked his away across the hardwood gymnasium floor, steppin with each boot one at a time, on
his way to meet the face of rowdy Tom until big Johnny tripped over some duct tape holdin down some
fuckin wires. Everybody laughed and the concert halted, but that didn’t stop Johnny from gettin
back up to his feet
and leaving back out the door.

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√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
try: mrs. zimmerman’s saffron
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
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disaster

there are multiple opportunities
for creatures
even gentle animals
to spell out their disaster
like r-o-c-k-h-i-t-t-h-e-e-a-r-t-h
or d-r-e-a-m-c-a-m-e-t-o-e-n-d

a drunkard’s nigh upon late

The prudent alternative to slamming glasses down in

a public brewhause would be to kindly speak to your neighbor

and, with an audible speak, say “Well surely my my that brew was so good” ,

for this is not a mad barren outpost among the thieves and scoundrels

where bloodied specters ransack ceremony.

The woodened tables at which we slobber have forthrightly hosted

the best of your despairs and our lies, and so why not yell as would a humble man

digesting his peas and burping quietly.

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√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
read more at: littledebbieoatmealcookie
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
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considering the relevant characteristics of a vulture bird … post-2

“the data is relevant !”, Johnny stormed out of the conference room.

His first day at the Bureau of Grown Up Dudes and already problems. The gate guardsman used steady eyes to survey the tantrum, but apparently not steady enough cause he missed the smell of spray paint and the site of red letters across the front of the building: `IF YOU CAN’T TELL THE DATA IS RELEVANT, THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD LOOK AT THE RELEVANT DATA`.

harry, the boss, brought the gate guard, Johnny, and a janitor into his office the next day, giving the gate guard new eyeglasses and more coffee, while firing Johnny (and what do you think he told the janitor to do). But on the way out Johnny asked harry a loaded thing, “if you see a vulture are you afraid?”

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√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
read a short poem: bath bathing bird
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
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high fell

high fell and politic
reverent and sebastian

over the torrentious turmoil
growing in the hard water falling

(horses not grappling with
the sundays and the days)

delivering newspapers
calling home

uttor

around the air lines

to wards our hour
to wards our mission
to wards our common

all lee and not knownst more of idealics
a delivered feast on the table of moose

quiet, no screaming
children sleeping

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√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
read: a first-hand account of the pulitzer (adult content)
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
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spopb, spopb, spopb

Image via Wikipedia

wishing mayors collect glass door fing
-erprints, dragging hands from waist
coats to push signs –
some doors push in

spopb, spopb, spopb, spopb
  glassdoor with fingerprints that are greassy
    spopb
   spopb
  spopb

shop owner: “yes” and bEll moves around And on
  an
  asphalt
a tire noise now squeezes in from road.
  door shuts
and shop owner holds for the town man
  “…come to get a can of beans”

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√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
enjoy thanksgiving americans!! … … and don’t go shopping today!
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
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black bands bordering bright swatches

”
I’ve already decided on yellow:
– sunshine yellow!
”

the fight grew from there.
I tried to explain
the science and explanation of
the theory behind the thinking
and practice of streaking dread
black bands bordering bright
swatches to gain more
drama and enthusiasm
but she wouldn’t hear it.

We will eventually paint the
wall yellow and
it will be just exactly what you expect it to be
a yellow wall

the angels will adapt

once the morning drew curly squares
the angels cleverly took the chance to bounce on the rounded
sides (for surely they will be
made straight tomorrow)
Pens can draw tractors and moms
and it can all be distinguished or unknown;
similar shapes, variations of
colors adopted eagerly,
pushed by hands
and on hands too
and visited again and adapted so often
– Adaptations the angels will know:
a movement, a stand, a forest for
walking, house, bulldozer, dog, bicycle
an expression, story
hand turkeys, airplanes

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
you might enjoy this: review of the movie Shawshank Redemption by lisa alcatraz
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

watchin for whiskers

there’s plenty of animals
that look like animals
they’re not hard to identify
just take a look

just take a look
to identify the animal type features
see if you see whiskers
that would tell you

don’t be reluctant to go beyond whiskers
there are other things
see its entirety

apple juice

I am still trying to figure out what to do with the apple juice part. I don’t know what to do with it. I am convinced that somehow ‘apple juice’ is supposed to be a part of this thing.
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read more: cornmeal
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blood thirsty breakdown

the bird was ignorant
    it had only learned things from
        its mother and from
        other birds
all of whom were ignorant, only having
    learned from one another … and
    their mothers

so the expectations are setup –
    I: think the bird is too ignorant
    the bird: is too ignorant to have
                    expectations.

every time the earth spins
the
bird and I dispute the time of day

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
wanna read a short story … it’s good: the floating arm
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

you walked in through the woods

you walked in through the woods
each of your steps crunched leaves
each of your steps crunched wildberries
some of your ideas crunched
balance among us. To ol’ wood you
think you be in sport with,
conversating.

you walked in through the woods. Among us we
say, “here comes a diplomat, like a saint
with smelly hands. See the skins of
berries in the cleats of his shoes.”

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eat this: the words of corn
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I wanted new knives … edit: version-02

well, … .naw, not really bad I guess for a
death bed
I never been in one until this one
now, so
I’s

not sure what to expect,
but this isn’t really bad …
it has wheels …
it’s the first one I’ve been in that’s got wheels

But … … yeah, the one thing
that I
always had
imagined I’d do would be to buy a
whole set of new kitchen knives but
it never did work
out that way

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
there’s a newer version, version-03: I wanted new knives … June 3
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

hot cobbler smarts

there’s much harassment left
over from the peach eating
sunday weekend
grandma cooked,
she put gravy on the peeled
and a glass of tea sweet like
the Southern air and wildlife,
I ate cobbler, drank the tea
.
everybody got along fine and took
quick moments home with cameras,
developed back then
.
yep, everybody got along

woman screamed

she screamed. she screamed
so loud: “aaahahaahaahahhahhahahhhhhhahhhaaaaaahhhhhhahhhhh”

I mean you can hear it, right, by all the letters that I put in the word
I mean you can hear those letters
can’t you, the letters represent her scream

.said “don’t use that glass that is on the counter
aaahahaahaahahhahhahahhhhhhahhhaaaaaahhhhhhahhhhh.
I drank my orange juice out of it this morning
I haven’t washed it
it’s been sitting on the counter all day
it is dirty”

ferocious children mock haikuist

a haikuist that
became estranged from his friends
said O no … please no

making love while eating mexican food

“that was one fine tamale”
“and that was one fine cigarette”

the woman and man had made love while eating mexican food

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
visit little debbie oatmeal cookie if you would like to read more
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

the indians are a part of the problem, true

the indians were outside the fort
there were 100’s of millions of them
they brought their catapults
and batterers to push down
our walls so they could enter
and maim

I told my wife
get the big gun
she was bitter that I had told her what to do
she told her friends that I was abusive
she was angry that I didn’t give her
a chance to decide on her own

it’s not sad that we died
it’s sad that we died beside one another

tie onto the floor

the deliciousness of a juice

was

all the woman needed to
bring the child’s friends and birthday party
to a place and way she

       had hoped    from her childhood
that
her
kids
would one day have … bicycles and
            tracking MUD
             through the kitchen, and
         her
            husband throwing his tie onto the

            floor, wrestling the kids, throwing
       baseballs with the kids
                            ( not yelling because
                                         of
                                         shattered windows)

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
please visit my blog, little debbie oatmeal cookie if you have time for more.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

old wore time

it was my years sowin oats I
made all my money
sumtimes I got paid checks twice on fridays
… it was my alpha personality Ruff!

… the girls,
but I
shouldn’t talk about that here

Things just get older when you move slower
That’s the way tIme works
Rheumatism, bloody feet –

WAIT! hammer time
oh we could dance
the girls would dance around us snapping their
fingers high up in the air. Fruits! (laughing
to myself)

oh we could dance
but
we had the money. …. the shooes.
we’d buy drinks, spill darts in the beer

not my barn, leave me alone

it’s been a while
since the old days got dogged by death
guitar strings flappin the car door
leavin scratches at a 120 miles ph

“fast,” you yelled, “round the curve!”
girls hair kickin their clasps, ponytails spraying
doom doom doom doom doom
it’s been a while since we rubbered the wheels unto the curb
hitting barns and chickens in the field

they finished their dinner later

good heavens

said joe

Dinner was served on the table

the graft was more than it should have been

everyone continued to eat through several conversations

no one whistled.
because that would’ve been not right.

they finished their dinner later

8 heathers

8 heathers lost their eyesight on a
weekly radio show –

it was not a talk
radio show I must say
but
a complicated art performance whereby
personalities
heralded
brush strokes and glue.

And that was why everyone cried –
because who could use the glue
because who could pull the oil
as
on the air there were heathers, 8 I tell you…

advancement came to the welsh

advancement came to the welsh
from a staging post beyond
a green meadow’s edge

where
trees and a bog
tested
swordsmen,

woodsmen,
makers of crafts. But
the welsh made forward through the difficulties,
and the … … are the welsh the same as the irish

my woman

today was a great day.
I went to
the

store to get a couple
of
beers. The 3 or 4 ladies that work
there were there. That’s all it needs.
It’s a small store in a little neighborhood.
A good writer could write
about those ladies
sure nuff

But one way or the other they’re
friends I’m sure. They’ve probably
been workin in there since when eden was
still whole-sellin vegetables and produce.

My woman been workin too, got paid today
so I’m celebratin
got me some beers
2 of them, generic. They’re warm. The
store saves itself some money by just
dry shelvin the generic beers.

brooks and moss

The sorrow (YIKES)
The sadness (OYKS)
The continuance (UH!)

…
I wrote that poem after a day searching and
hunting the al qaeda leader in caves behind
shrubs along the appalachian hills. (EMPTY
HANDED)

2 ju-ju beads though; A hippy girl away from
university on a saturday; Nice sounds of brooks
and moss splashing; cnn cameras continued to
follow me even though I told them the
search was a misguided hunch and wasn’t going
to give me any results. (TURN THE CAMERAS
OFF)

The drive home (TIRED)
The hippy chick in my lap (NAKED)
The rumor (HE GOT AWAY AGAIN)

big sounds at the fair

if you really want to understand a crash
    you have to
    pay focus to the
    sound
    of the crash

cause

that’s really where the power’s at
example one time this
old lady crashed and all the people in the grandstands
went OHHHW pretty much together
it was real loud and
of course
the old lady couldn’t survive that
It was just too loud in the crowd

but that’s how you do it
judge the crash damage by the sound
  I learned that when I was in
      physics
  when I was younger

review of the movie Shawshank Redemption by lisa alcatraz

the movie Shawshank Redemption

was a movie

it lasted a specific amount of time

you can use your stopwatch

to measure that time

it was a good movie

there were definitely characters in it

some of them were black some

of them were white

but they were all actors

I don’t recall any actresses

did you ever watch this movie shawshank redemption

did you think it was a good movie

do you recall any women in the movie

the words of corn

the words of corn are not oft wise

But there are

days deep beneath the sun

kalamazoo is a friend of mine

where girls dance for new

boots and hOpe of romance, knee high

and suede, because leather

wears out and loses its shine

“uuh tango … tango hunny: get me

the flyswatter would you, and be a deer.?”

melons and toast

I got computer monitors on top of the trash dump sittin out back; just lift them up and set them down yonder and you can have access to all the leftover material in the dumpster; you’ll see the things you like: broken futures, purple burgundy, blue-dead red time;

pause

Oh I don’t know what you say about electronics; my job is that of a seller; I don’t inter-mediate with opinions, flagrant notions, or jam and butter encouragement;

but, all that said, get what you need and clean up after yourself;

toast boat 05

sitting wood-fresh at the day-strong table, flipping

catalog pages of dog trinkets: sweaters and bell-shaped chew toys, on the

pasture deck straddling a windy delightful decision to finish

the season which began, and will finish, the way they do whenever they

translate, nicely, months and generations both;

the floating arm

“yup … he got him that way”

“…”

“hmm, water can burn you I guess”

“…”

“… was he with alone or had he had the company earlier in the evening”

“huh?!”

“…”, an agreement.

“…”

“I’ve heard he fried of the anxiety before he got the burn’t.”

“huh!”

“…”, an agreement.

“…”

They each then took some time to silence. No one spoke until the one finally had to acknowledge what that each one was afraid of:

“They say that the boiling water was carried in a aluminum pot”

“…”

“the arm carried it?”

“…”, an agreement.

“huh.”

“…”

“did it drag upright, from its elbow, and that would be how it carried the pot of water!?”

“…”

Their fear is deterring the acknowledgment.

“…”

“The arm came floatin’.

“around the corner at up about 4 ½ foot…”

“… some say it could’ve been more alike 5 ½ or 6 foot up …”

“huh?!”

“…”

“…”, a good many of all ‘em gave an agreement.

“…”

“What he do when the arm went to dumpin’ that water into the tub”

“…nah, no one can know that for certain – I would’ve stood up quick as hell!”

“…”

“… that way the water would’ve only burnt your feet wouldn’t it have?!”

“…”

“Yeah”

“…”

“Uh-huh – … … that’s most likely the best way to defend the arm’s water torture”

“most say that’s probably what he did do.”

“…”

“- what – …… – ummm … … what about what happened to the rest of the man in the bathtub…”

“What abouT the rest of the man in the bathtub?!”

“…”

“ how? the rest of him fry ”

“…”

The dangerous question made everything tense again.

“…”

“… what! was he doin’ in the tub?”

“…”

“they say he was washin’ the dead skin off his soul…”

“then the arm fried him with boiling water?…”

“…his feet and ankles at least; his own anxiety might have fried the rest of him.”

The little boys screamed. And the campfire burned merrily merrily merrily all night long.

sand

come on,
    you gotta admit –
            if you’re gonna get killed, then
              dyin on a motorcycle when you’re
              flying like hell is
              pretty
              cool

or gettin eaten by a grizzly bear … or
a lion

or a shark, like a great white mainly;
any of the great beasts really

the soul don’t spit

how long is the road

the road, what road

how deep is the pit

the pit, what trench

how curvey is the soul

the soul! the soul don’t spit

how sandy is the coast, how sandy …

O’ the coast, what a coast …

how turbulent are jets?
how uncomfortable are small spaces?

small spaces, what seats

how indeed is this it
how indeed is this it …

mrs. zimmerman’s saffron

me and my brother donny used to run in the summertime. it

was good, the smell of air
and little old mrs. zimmerman’s potted saffron on her porch.

donny would knock on her door and talk a hundred miles an hour; he would tell her

about catching crayfish down in the creeks and sexual couples behind the skating rink.
( old lady mrs. zimmerman liked his stories I believe but that one )

.
.
.
I guess I was too young
to know for sure, but I have a feeling that
she had lost the man in her life;

she never said as much to donny but herself talked about

the sock hops and the elvis and the being so special that she got to go behind the

soda fountain where the soda jerk poured smiles and syrups.

mucked and coated with window glue

  frozen
                    aloft a boat
               aloft where-withallness
aloft a dimestory, a cinch for
Eddie, but a spear in the knee for
another man,

groping the bitches and
quoting the whew ha, clowning with
Ellen, her sweet
    tall
      spikey
        high heels visually
challenging the lucky drab, mucked and coated
with window glue

wreckage in the flatland below

wreckage debris lain in
blocks and girders long, dusts of
cements settled upon

… and we did not discuss it

A glass window in a trailer
looked out upon the wreckage and
God sat up there. I finally

tatted on the pane glass

“Lord, my credibility has no value
and my self is questionable. But I feel
I have cleaned up the so many little cracks that
foreshadowed this
ALONE, and now years gone by.
please say that I can stand reasonably
and decent, humble, and yet expect her to do her
part
finally, that it will again stand
and it will smell like her and…” God interrupted: ‘You’re
being a bit melodramatic there, aren’t you boy!’

And I said, “Dude?!” At that point God
ran his hand through the pane glass
and smacked his open palm hand flat into
the fore-nose of my face, leaving it ugly
like the wreckage in the flatland below

next door we may be an ass

my old man’s successful restaurant

my momma walked: she looked
– she started
but then she stopped

walked
but so wondering

from the front room
she
could see the big ole house
      – the whole of it
      – the small ported areas that are quelled behind the bigger rooms
  all of it

I don’t know where all of the money comes from …
who eats so much giblets anyway
our restaurant’s front counter is crowded with eaters
like they ain’t got no damn giblets of their own
  tucked in reynolds wrap in their own personal freezer boxes where
    ice cubes do just fine at their own homes
      in nice neighborhoods and with vegetable gardens that are so alive

I heard daddy say, ‘we need more rooms!’
oh come on now how many rooms do we need?
Stop at four or five
    ( but maybe several bathrooms …
        little jenny bullshits for hours every morning
        curling her hair and looking at her girl nose )
see we don’t need any more rooms,
tell these people to quit eating so much giblets
    ( but they are fantastic when they are breaded
        with a little rosemary and onion, maybe a spit of
        worcestershire sauce and a slight drip of olive oil, dark )

tables

furthermore
    the frantic people live on rice
        walking fast
    eatin ducks
killin hoards of loaves
of tadpoles and clothes
on lines of dryers in heat
in waves, obedient, dosed
    closed

but
    the farmer raises pigs
        drinks beer
    plows
has a table
and guests

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..>>
…………………………………………………………………. more mega poetry yahoo ..>>

hearing the ringing of bells

the old man

was brutally cruel to the robot

florida has toilets

florida has toilets and
europe has toilets – you’d think
they’d be about the same:
-design-wise
-functionality-wise

the sweet spot oN european toilets
is more difficult to find, but produces
a much nicer tone

it’s funny that europe and florida
have different toilets, them being
just toilets and so on

a sweet spot is a place in the
toilet to where a gentleman urinates, such
that splashback and sound are minimized
like swimmer smooth diver

The Parties Blast Each Other God Damnit

for 4 weeks me and the Lucy’s
had a contentious relationship

arguing over the minor critical details
of job growth vs flower growth

my emotions were like sacred ground
of which tomahawk throwing Indians screamed

but the Lucy’s, violent with their
limited foresight, swore swore swore

the rain storm came just when
we needed, cause the throwdown was on