STILL
today
I am too
still
to attempt
a poem
get entangled
in inner workings
but there
they go again
clamoring
for a line, a word,
a beggar’s feast
at least
something
knowing how
soft-hearted, generous
I am
even as I sink
beneath the surface
of every ocean
of self-
deprecation
SMUDGED ALL OUT (ERUPT)
being inclined
towards this stupid
pretence
of an art
can’t seem to
shake off
all those demons and
hobgoblins
putting
images in
my head
words
into my mouth
telling me
to write this
write that
so hearing about
sage smudging
figured I would just
smudge
those unruly suckers out
turns out
just to evict one of
those pests engaged in
this constant invasion
would need more smoke than
if Vesuvius, Krakato
Etna, and St Helena
should happen
to
simultaneously
erupt
NO MIND
do not
mind me
afford me
a second look
am out in a field
green grass, electromagnetic,
photoelectric
contemplating things
cultivating
good mu shin
things dissolving even
as they blossom profusely
and I
let go
cup empty
cup full
no
half measures
.
so ready
to be taken to find
myself
quietly filled
READING NOW
they keep probing
but, Oh brother,
this old man
has nothing to say to them
claims his memory
has failed hin completely
has forgotten everything
and he
whatever he was
by circumstance
or blood
is dead to him
but they are ruthless, insistent
probing, digging
looking
for common architecture,
time shared
trying to glean something
from this bag of old bones
before it
becomes so incoherent
will not let him
get off scot free
escape the truth
so easily
reading him
these very words
I am writing now
not a keeper
a brother’s keeper of.
anything like
these
words paltry few
senseless words
you
are reading now
HEADING WEST
pack my pearl handle quick drsws
I’m heading West
out into the realm
of the good, the bad,
and the ugly
.
following the Sun’s parabola
hyperbole
as it rises like a rocket
falls
like a?bomb
seek out that long gone Zorro
California of Senor Thomas
Pynchon
hang around in bars
sit
under the stars
become poet of the backstreet
empty bottle
empty lot
scribe of the land
put a coupld of sweet ,45s
where they will
work best
the future returning to
reshuffle the deck
of the past by
slick assassination
and there.
desert delight
the place where the war was won
all wars
will be won (all wars
the last war from
this moment on)
and here where
the scar of Shiloh ripping
itself asunder
the healed wound of
Antietam tearing
itself apart
the text of the founding fathers
dancing throuhh ghost town
after ghost town
past by-pass
after by-pass like
torn down posters after
poster, like
so much tumbleweed
like ghost dancers searching
for lost burial grounds
so much
to take in
before
lost forever
poems 2 die for