April 30th

HIGH COUNTRY

Those bastards told me to go south,
to take up in some retirement community
in Florida, perhaps, among all the
buffets and bridge clubs, where I'd die
with womanly hands in a goddam lawn chair
-- But I told 'em I'm a man of the dirt
"You wanna live out your last days like
a lone pine in the wilderness?" they asked
"The wind'll grind you down slow -- grind
those ornery old bones a'yours to dust"
-- But what the hell did they know?

April 29th

VARIATIONS ON A PILE OF HAIR

I.
One of many flaws
With the notion of keeping
An indoor tiger

II.
Joy and gladness filled her heart
The light shone in her eyes
Like a fleeting work of nature’s art
She saw her babysitter vaporized

The old hag was an awful bore
A tyrant through and through
So she bought the ray-gun at the store
And flash-fried all but her hair-do

III.
Dark tresses detached
Long locks released
In a hair-drift catched
At the young girl’s feet
She points and smiles
A laugh on her breath
And does not realize
This is a sign of death
A recurring symbol of final fate
Each day we die a little more
What once was beautiful now dead weight
In unceremonious pilings on the floor

IV.
Beware, beware the wandering hair
That rests upon the floor so bare
The little girl that points and stares
Does not know or does not care
If these are sheddings of a bear
Or lion lately from its lair
Emerged to sniff prey on the air
Or perhaps a beastie yet more rare
Sasquatch, yeti, or chimer’
A monster seeking maiden fair
Away, fool child! Away from there!
Back to parents and forebears
Around the corner and up the stairs
Beware! Beware the wandering hair!

V.
There once was a girl named Lenore
Who didn't want to be blind anymore
So she cut off her bangs
Looked down and said "Dang,
That's a lot of my hair on the floor!"

VI.
The bearded lady with a lisp
That Barnum was proud to have found
Choked on her last bite of apple crisp
And fell like a stone to the ground
"Shave me!" she yelped
With her last bit of air
And we all tried to help
Free her from chin hair
When her face was all clean
And the lady was passed
We said, "Oh! Did she mean -?"
And all had a good laugh

April 28th

ON EXHIBIT AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY


"David ran and stood over him. He took
hold of the Philistine's sword and
drew it from the scabbard. After he
killed him, he cut off his head with
the sword."
-- 1 Samuel 17:51


And David, having sufficiently paraded the monster's head around Jerusalem, called together a committee:
"Listen gents," he propped his bare feet on the conference table, puffed slow on his cigar, "We gotta get this kid into show business. I mean, a quick shave and a crew cut, and we're sittin' on a serious gold mine."
Excited murmers around the table -- David was a genius.
"I mean, you gents 'member dat King Kong flick, eh? We gots our hands on the same kinda freak. 'Cept this sonuvabitch ain't gonna go apeshit on us in the big middle of an exhibition." David cackled and stroked his moustache. "It's foolproof."
So it was settled. The exhibition launched from Jerusalem and traveled the known world. Kings, peasants, shepherds, carpenters, grease monkeys, hipsters, snake charmers, roughnecks, wise men -- all came from far and wide to see the slain giant.

History, treasures
Safe in the hands of tourists
And ready money

One young woman, dressed head-to-toe in new wave florescents and blacks, grips the arm of her friend, bouncing:
"Ooo ... Don't he look like whosyacallit from The Smiths?"

April 27th

MITCH ALOHA AND HIS BOY PERFORMERS!

I.
Gathered from the four winds
Brought down muddy mountain passes
Bought from Appalachian homes
With moonshine and molasses

“Borrowed” from the orphange
And out of foster care
To entertain the yokels
At the local county fairs

Night and day he trained them
And taught them their new names
Fed them on a diet of oatmeal
And promise of wealth and fame

He was like a father to them
An all-male Von Trapp family
In the traveling trailer homestead
They rolled on, wild and free

II.
Tommy, finally blew the whistle
(He the oldest of the squeeze-box duo)
When his cut from the third record
Was less then half the usual

Mitch is doing time still
In a lonely prison cell
Jack, the younger accordionist
Is doing fairly well

He became a minister
Shepherding other lost souls
Though his fling with fame and stage-lights
Is a story seldom told

Nico, the youngest, went a bit mad
But turned out at last a star
As the cross-dressing song-stress Cinnamon
Still playing that tiny guitar

III.
But Freddy, poor, poor Freddy
So immersed was he in the vaudeville
Persona of Little Big Man on Campus
He wanders from university to university
Showing up for class, ripping off a few one-liners
And disappearing again for ages
Into the darkened corners of the world

April 26th

AT THE ZOO

Such savage creatures! Such beasts!
Classy Victorian dress can't hide
the primal, the ducktail sideburns
Flaunting their decadence with
top hat height, coattail length
Clawing for alpha position --
style, wit, physical strength
Curious, eager to gawk, hum and haw
at the mention of bloodsport
Hair flies in handfulls --
flesh and clothing tears apart
Nothing quite as productive
as a good fight-to-the-death

Thank God we've evolved.

April 25th

THE BUDDHA VS. THE BANANA

The lotus position broken
The equilibrium of body and mind
Skewed by the body's needs

The half circle
The crescent moon
The boat upon the waves
All incomplete unto themselves
Yin without yang

Yellow clashes with saffron
Hunger dominates the will
Which up to now was bent
On denial of self
And purity of being

April 24th

THANK YOU, DR. SEUSS, FOR FILLING MY VULNERABLE BRAIN WITH DRUG-INDUCED NONSENSE

Rocks! Rocks! With alge-moss socks!
Standing up straight like a field full of cocks
Ready and waiting to slip in a box
Then shipped to the theatre, stationed as props

Point to the sky with the finger -- they mock!
"Damn you! -- So mighty, so high and on top!"
And fixed in the ground, they have time to take stock
Of the winners and losers, the smashes and flops

They've 'stood n'these years, and don't plan to stop
Or fall on their sides, or wallow in slop
Or lie like the dead and be covered in crop
Or drop to flat fodder for cloppity-clop

Like soldiers in form at a woodcutter's shop
They stand at attention, and ready or not
Here they come, as they were the day Ceasar was slaught'
In cross no-floss frocks and glazed gawks! The Rocks!

April 23rd

GOSSIP FROM THE BEE

Fifi was a good dog
But not so good
Memaw noticed she wasn't a cloth square
When she made her latest ugly quilt

April 22nd

STRANGE ADVENTURES, INDEED

The air was blister-cold when I arose,
in starlit dark, amidst the evergreens
I shuddered at the thought of things I'd seen
that night, when I had burrowed in the snows

Recall, I could, an ape with thirteen toes
Just eight for walking, five to hail the queen
A tattered patch draped where an eye had been
He spoke with an uncanny Irish brogue

The ape, he juggled 'murdersworth of crows
And bragged of his collector's figurines
He said he'd fancy showing them to me
Then stroked my ragged whiskers, soft and slow

I ran like hell, like Yeager's sonic boom

-- Perhaps I need to lay off all the shrooms

April 21st

ORIGIN

Shalom - and welcome
He said and unrolled the scroll
We read tonight from 2 Kings
Chapter 2 verse 24 in which the prophet Elisha
Curses those
Who mocked him
And two bears
Came from the woods at the call of the prophet
And tore them apart
Few know what happened next
But we know

How the bears believed
And worshiped the LORD
For granting them the meat of men
And how their number survived the Exile
And the Diaspora
And meet 'till now
In caves in the mountains
Patiently awaiting the call of the prophet
To come down and feed again
On the unbelieving
Amen

April 20th

FIRE AND VICE

I.

It began, I recall, with two shovels and a gas can
And three guys forced outdoors by a chain smoker

And beer

Chill February night, sweaty Shiner in hand,
Spotted dog running circles like an idiot
We began to dig

We dug as we spoke, as we drank or smoked
Foot thrust, tiny tricep burn, scatter the remnant
We dug as far as we could, till the handle
Buried itself in the clay
Weeks of digging and drinking, yielded the
Staggering depth of the hell hole

II.

We bottom-feeders need something to entertain us
As we suckle at our steady vices

When the digging reached its potential
We did the only thing we could (we had to do it)
We lit that bitch on fire

It was something to behold
Drizzle sweet gasoline around in the insides, down
In the guts, and wait for a good soak
Throw a match, jump backwards at the last second

Flames swirled, danced like fairies, licked the air
With eager tongues -- saucy deep-rooted pillar of fire
Led us forward in the forgiving dark

III.

We bottom-feeders need something to entertain us
As we suckle at our steady vices

Let's just say our resident fire-breather
Should have stuck to filters

April 19th

THE CONGRESS OF THE UNCOOKED

"Order, order!" the turkey cried
From the seat labeled number one
"We roasted birds must have our say
Afore we all are done!"

"How came we here, in such a state
Peacock, goose, and the rest
Beheaded gutted, lightly braised
And sold by wing and breast?"

"A base canard!" exclaimed the chicken
With a most accusing cluck
"I know for sure the one to blame
Is in seat four - the duck!"

"Listen, hear me!" from seat seven
Came a mournful sound
But alas the plea of the Guinea hen
Was overwhelmed by noise and drowned

And so it goes, the nightly forum
Of assembled poultry meats
Each night unable to find concensus
The next day "Bob's Good Eats!"

April 18th

WHO?

Late in his life, it seems,
Pete Townshend pulled out
That old wool suit, those
Unbecoming brogan clodhoppers
And crept back into the hills

He traded jackhammer riffs,
A turbo-jet lifestyle for
Smoky Appalachain winters
Grew out that grey-ribboned
Freak flag, that hearty beard

He slaughters his own hogs
These days, puffs corncob pipes
As he rocks a handmade chair,
Talking 'bout his generation

April 17th

THE GIRL IN THE PICKLE HAT

Should ever ye see such a sight
Should ye be walkin' home from the bar one night
As a girl in a pickle hat

Turn quickly, friend, the other way
If you wish again to see the light of day
Turn from the girl in the pickle hat

Many a man's had his heart swayed
By a seeming sweetly smiling maid
That girl in the pickle hat

Many a goodly heart and soul
Had his life wrecked and good fortune stole
By the girl in the pickle hat

Kosher as she may appear
With a toothless grin from ear to ear
Beware, my friend, have holy fear
Of the girl in the pickle hat!

April 16th

DAY OF RECKONING
or
THIS DUDE'S BODY IS THE ONLY THING EVER ANNEXED BY ALIENS

There were no trumpets
No horsemen, no beetles
No six-winged creatures

There were no saucers
No jetpacks or ray guns
No monotone robot voices
No smoking blood-red skies

When mankind came down
There was only a blur
A rub-eyes morning fuzz

Only a vague tapestry
Scortched on to skin
On to blank-canvas flesh
Ink eyes peering nowhere

Hot, leering symbolism
Only visible by those
Handy with a hand-mirror

They toppled no government
No culture or religion --
The conquerors, I think,
Prefered the visual arts

April 15th

1507 GLEN TERRACE, ELFLAND

Underneath the willow tree
In the corner of the glen
Lived the sprite Prenalee
And Bill her bumblebee friend

In a dainty toadstool cottage
With gaily painted gables
With roof expertly spotted
In the shape of a one-legged table

Each day she waits in earnest
The day's letter from her lover
The leprechaun Lord Fern-Nest
From the hill of Four-Leaf Clover

When morning's rays break like fetters
Through the cover of the wood
The Mail-Ogre brings the letters
(Long as they're addressed as they should)

And Bill he buzzes gaily
Prenalee glows with light
For the love-notes that come daily
From leprechaun to sprite

April 14th

SHADOW DANCE

It's not that I mind
the idea of playful
shilloettes on the
movie screen -- I don't

But that google-eyed
flop-tongued mutt is
drooling in my popcorn

April 13th

"F" BOMB

Fixed fasteners focus forward
Frayed fibers festoon forehead
Finger-filled footwear
Forms farcical face

Furious former fracas!
Ferocious fishy foe fought
Flailed feinted faltered
Finally fails - fell

Filleted finned flesh flayed
Phlebotomist's fantasy
Fearsome phantom fetches flounder
From fen 'fore firmament

Fodder found for famished fisher-thing
Fair fortune fosters future feast

Finis

April 12th

OF HILLS AND YAKS

I've heard tales and legends
Of New Zealand's beauty.
I, the poet, the musician,
Have sold records there.

I know they filmed an
Acclaimed film upon its
Crooked peaks, green hills.
Or maybe there were three?

Surrounded by majesty,
Blue depths and rocky crags,
Slopes sloping into lakes,
Stands the Tibetan Yak.

How he arrived from Tibet
We'll never know. A lonely,
Pensive wanderer -- But how
Can he swim with those hooves?

He didn't take the bus,
For damn sure.

April 11th

FIGHT ON! FOR EARTH! FOR GLORY!

Beneath the surface of the world
In the very center of the earth
Two brothers dwell
A pair of warriors
Helmeted, gauntlet-wearing
Armored for battle
Against nameless forces
Threatening powers and dominions
With no face to fear
No body to kill

They battle the pull of the universe
The endless yank and tear of rotation
Entropy, dark matter
Solar wind, supernova
Each wields a magnet, gigantic
A ferrous tool generating fields
Which counter the invisible hands from the void
And keep the planet bound together whole

To see them is feel the very forces they bear
To know both attraction and revulsion
For girded for battle their bodies are fearsome
One must look, but want desperately to turn away
They care not a whit
Heedless of scorn and derision
Gladiators bold
Joyfully fight
Savagely mocking their foes
As they are mocked by those they defend

Grandma knows what goes on in her closet
What shameful fantasies play out there
She has been around the block though
And knows it could be much worse
At least the boys aren’t stealing or getting high
Stoners, with few exceptions, aren’t as enterprising

April 10th

SHINING STAR

That high-stepping
Dance move died out
Long ago, for us, the
Hetero-hipsters

But Orion, flaunting
The glitter-belt, can't
Get enough, still
Rocks to synth beats

Still sports his old
Spaced-out miniskirt,
Wears that Jerrycurl
Like it's some bad shit

Dancing up a sweat
In a thumping gay club,
Clearly too hot for his
Gaudy mink overcoat

And methinks I see,
Dangling at his thigh,
A penis -- Keep it in
The sheath, spaceman

April 9th

NOT QUITE HUMAN

Lidless eyes stare out
Eternal void only filled
By another's hand

April 8th

IN THE PROJECTS

Aquarium art, constructed from
That same, strange rough porcelain
Some otherworldly beast, her arms
At standstill, frozen -- ever terrible,
Untamed -- grips her victim indefinitely

Ocean's rugged lawmen, keepers
Of the peace -- one man down
One holds steady, holds his ground

Eternal battle, struggle for ocean's heart
Resting just a bit cockeyed on iridescent
Blue moonrocks, amid swaying greenery

Two goldfish twitch in casual laps
Around the tank -- big-eyed, alert,
Equipped with seven-second memories

"It's always something," sighs one
"We've got to change neighborhoods"

April 7th

I MUST FOLLOW MY PROGRAMMING, AND I AM PROGRAMMED TO BE FABULOUS

At work in his lab in the burg of Hokkaido Dr. Yokahama exclaimed
“You will find evil wherever it hides out and make them fear your great name-
Magnificent Ultra Warrior Five!” And then the mad genius passed on
Leaving this cruel world behind as he activated his great creation
The spark of life lit up with ignition in the two-story robot’s mind
“I must defend truth and free volition by battling injustice of every kind!”
Boot rockets ablaze it took the sky, ready to search out any trouble
The light of sun struck the jewels in its eyes and the rush of the wind blew its ruffles
The Mighty Mecha’s new dress was an obvious sign, as he had eschewed a metallic suit
That though Yokahama was a brilliant mind he was also a bit of a fruit
The cross-dressing warrior would battle invaders from space and every crook in the city
With lasers blazing, an emotionless face, and slippers which were really quite pretty
Giant monster turtles, ninja ghosts, and The Terrible Toad Men from Uranus
From the most implacable dastardly foes the Magnificent Warrior saved us
So lift the android up in verse and song who serves and protects night and day
For he is bold and brave and strong ---and more than a little bit gay

April 6th

AT HARVEST

Tireless sun, crisp air wrestle,
Play for dominance
Cool faces, warm arched backs

Harvest nears

Lusty greens dim, pale
Tribe murmurs,
Pulses with angry ancient need

The gods,
Fierce as they are just
Demand it

Sundown
Torch flames flicker in wide eyes
Children peek from behind
Naked calves

Ancient words summon spirit, stir easy wind
Shadows stretched in twilight

Village idiot ascends
Lonesome steps to temple-top
Assumes position

Balanced precariously
Between black earth and electric sky

Should he fall before sunrise,
His shattered head, broken body
Will appease the gods
And his blood will season the harvest

Should he survive the night,
He will be exalted, and crowned king

The reigning king led to slaughter

There must be blood
Yes, there must be blood

The gods,
Fierce as they are just
Demand it

But the sun, the tireless sun
Who churns even now
Is every bit as steadfast in his hiding

April 5th

OVERHEARD AT SAUNDERS' WELCOME HOME PARTY

Clancy, the man with the wide-banded hat, hasn’t a brain in his head
And shows it every damn time that he speaks
Marlo, the gal with the fetching fur stole, won’t give him the time of day
For she not-so-secretly pines for Hal
He of the sharp double-breasted suit and the unfiltered cigarette
Too bad for her that he’s in madly in love with Art
The jet-setter just back from Lisbon or Rome with little gifts for all the friends
And too bad for Rita, who lusts after Marlo
And apparently hides her frustration under god-awful dresses
I mean, really, a shoulder flap?
Says Saunders, and lights another, concluding his diatribe with
A sigh and I need a new set of friends
---But who has that kind of time?

April 4th

OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH

The vultures moved -- ready, waiting,
Made steady circles, lazy corners
Hurried dips rushed to easy crests
Still at the top, descended again

They confessed no interest
Sailed nonchalant gyres, watched
From primal eyes, passive, bored

They knew

They knew we flirted with the edge,
That we defiled ourselves, reveled in
The savage, burned with shameful lusts,
That we ate of the forbidden fruit

We were toast, fucked, done for,
A fool's errand and a lost cause,

Dead before we hit the ground

April 3rd

MOVING DAY

Pack up the forest, tear down the mountains, roll up the carpet of leaves
Pour the river out the back door
Deflate the hills, scroll up the sky, send all the animals home
They’re not needed here any more

Vacuum the desert, plug up the caves, make a big stack of plateaus
The ocean may leave a ring
Make sure the jungle is dehumidified, tie the poles together
And make room for the next big thing

April 2nd

LIBERTY, SWEET LIBERTY!

Kindly camouflage thyself, I pray, and let me be
Tempting churn-ed chime! Oh tantalizing dairy bell!
Liberty, sweet Liberty, I dare not feast on thee

Your fermented ring resounds with power, steadily
Steadily you change, though, to a dark and solemn knell
Kindly camouflage thyself, I pray, and let me be

Softer than a pesto spread, oh, smoother than a brie
Any worthy bread would wear you proud, and wear you well
Liberty, sweet Liberty, I dare not feast on thee

I could sink my eager teeth into the cream, you see
Ride I could on gluttony's nightmarish carousel
Kindly camouflage thyself, I pray, and let me be

Dear old Father Franklin, connoisser de margarieen,
Yielded to indulgence, died a sad triglyceride shell
Liberty, sweet Liberty, I dare not feast on thee

Tempt me not, oh greasy gong! You'll be the death of me!
Cease your call, for my cholesterol is shot to hell
Kindly camouflage thyself, I pray, and let me be
Liberty, sweet Liberty, I dare not feast on thee

April 1st

THE BEAST WHO ATE THE WORLD

Harken now unto my voice and hear my tale of woe
Of darkest day and blackest hour that any shall ere know
In form unlovely yet not unkind the beast it did appear
Its vapid grin did masque the maw that men would grow to fear
A simple and a friendly brute his countenance proclaimed
Yet deep within there lurks such sin that none would dare to name

The shadowy terror came unto me a seeming harmless stray
Oh curse the pity that bade my heart to take him in that day!
Cursed be the bed I made, and cursed be the bowl
From which I gave it sustenance, and so condemned my soul
Cursed be the misty twilight, where by the dimming of the lamp
O’rtaken with parental mood, I called the monster “Champ”

O bitter fate! O cruel gods to see a demon born
As awful scenes did greet my eyes with coming of the morn
The hungry beast did eat its food, its bed, its bowl and all
It ate the tiling of the floor, and plaster on the wall
O’recome with rage, I swore an oath, and struck out with my foot
And between the willing and the act the beast devoured my boot

Many evil deeds then came, too many to even tell
Suffice to say the mouth of Champ was as the mouth of Hell
Many are the hurts it caused for the world Doom was sealed
As all the monster look’d upon became its gruesome meal
None left alive the tale to tell, save one who did befriend
And for one act of kindliness, saw the world come to an end