9/18/90
A jazz trumpet played
at 3:00 AM on Tuesday,
and as it rocketed in,
& the greatest version
of Amazing Grace known
in trumpet history,
someone pulled its
stopper and let it
sink down the drain.
Category: poetry
I have my MFA in poetry, which has been really useful for me to be able to interprit symbology, from literature to arrt, including Tarot.
-
Woody (Part 2)
and thrust an accusatory
finger at his brown-eyed
grandson.
“I’m sick of your
dreadlocks, boy,” he said
his ancient, (lined) ~~whiskery~~
face contorted in angst,
“I’m sick of the the way
they spill from your head
like jaundice needles, like
obscene pasta, why don’t
you get a haircut, goddammit!!”
He sat down slowly, ~~and read~~
tilted his head, ~~and prayed~~
painfully, ~~and watched~~ the old
scenes unfold within
the waterstained sequin
ceiling stucco.
-
Woody (story of a human)
9/15/90
Woody tried to shake the
boy’s hand, as it is
considered polite to do
so, but it was awkward.
The boy thrust his left
hand out from behind him,
upsidedown. ~~Woody grabbed~~
~~the boy’s pinky and~~ Woody
Woody tried to shake it
with his ~~dond~~ left hand,
but he couldn’t get it at
the right angle. He grabbed
the little pinky in desperation
and shook it resolutely.
“How ya doin’?” asked
the kid, staring into Woody’s
eyes ~~with eyes with his~~
own ~~so tilt~~-like brown
eyes.
“Fine,” said Woody, squirming
under the boy’s scrutiny.
Woody sat down on the floor,
behind the boy.
An old man sat on the
chair opposite them, he was
the boy’s grandfather.
Abruptly, the old man
shot up from his chair
-
The World Exploder 10x
9/10/90
The world exploder
ten times a year,
only not in a split second,
just slow like some
natural euthanasia,
not with the ~~fan~~ push
of a button, twitch
of an idle hand,
only slowly creeping
like a glacier ten inches a year,
little explosions, another
erosion of millennia,
~~C#~~
The green turns brown,
~~the air turns into~~
The air turns grey,
the sea turns black,
it took her 74 years to
die, who could expect
less of a planet?
-
Truncation
9/13/90
He had a head
like a ball-peen hammer
and sometimes also hard
like drop-forged steel,
only with a crooked
oak wooden handle,
splintered at the end,
he said,
“Something smells like
barbecued chicken.”
That was all he said
-
One Day Before 19
6/3/91
It’s easy to find a
cow, if you’re a
bull in a herd,
but if you’re a
goat like me,
you run into certain
difficulties, so
where’s my herd
of goats, anyway?
-
Believe
9/12/90
She said that she liked
strawberry ice cream,
and old Neal Young albums
from the 1970s,
but she said she was
not beautiful.
She said her teeth were
too big, her ~~lips~~
mouth was too wide,
her legs were too short,
but I said, it doesn’t
matter, I like Neal Young,
too, but strawberry
only give me hives.
Your hands shake with
impatience, like nervous
racing-dogs, waiting
for the starting gun,
but I don’t even know
how to fall.
-
For Grandfather Redfern, Doctor
06/02/1991
Your house was always
full of pills
and always immaculate
elan
Grandmother was a
manic nurse
and you had a yard
full of flowers, a
hothouse full of orchids
but your voice was
always soft and gentle,
though your hands
~~sustained~~ and heart restorer
And now I see you fade
mysterious before my eyes,
like the smoke from your
charcoal-patio barbecue,
and you ~~know~~ can outline
your body,
and let ~~when~~ you both happy & sad.
-
Class Victim
9/11/1990
The little boy said
that someone was at
the door, I paid no
attention,
(It’s hard for the poor to pay
much attention, they’re too
busy)
The man knocking at
the door back left.
He’d even come to give
me a job, too bad
for me, another missed
opportunity, and it was
my own damn fault
this time.
-
Swing
09/11/90
As they get older,
(Dixieland-swing)
~~little~~ they start to
play jazz, till
they are 89, and
play incredible b-bop,
then others take over.