race cars run on a deep-grooved blacktop
rubbling car tires spline ribbed
surfaces
while rpms register on cockpit
tachometers
like a Camaro briefly reflected
in mirror sunglasses
or sound furrowing like
needles into vinyl records
our human race considers oxen-dumb
jibber-jabber
like a wind blowing no
good over a race track
and meandering day after
night both to be sensible
going further faster to no
avail like a 45 on 78 rpm
IN MONGOLIA
Surmise that on merit I am
the Emperor of Mongolia at such mercurial time and circumstance that this is the
needful
Might I order my awesome
imperial complex built on the plain where currently dinosaur fossils proliferate
Shall I send my otherworldly
emissaries with meticulously crafted plans to Patagonia to isolate, quarry and
cut the exact stones needed for my re-creation of the Great Pyramid of Cheops
upon the Mongolian Dinosaur Plain at the center of the Imperial complex of Luxury
– yes, I think so
And with stones dressed,
finished, polished and blessed they become the latter day instantiation of the
Great Pyramid of Cheops (only better) -- with the all-seeing eye at its
pinnacle, glowering down at ancient, current and future worlds at my whim-behest
shall I beam with pride
Certainly no one objects
and everyone leaps on-board with this pleasurable program; and schedules,
tariffs and rules are devised for all to visit this Mongolian wonderland to be-pilgrim,
marvel, and study fossils, wondering about the rise and fall of the ages of
reptiles without regard to how that reflects on my contemporary age
And I assume to execute
orders for operations to maintain the Imperial Complex Status Quo for millennia,
indoctrinate world citizenry and create belief systems such that humanity obeys
my silliness re: the primacy of the pyramid complex with absolute blind devotion
Whereas plagues are
inevitable I arrange abolition by assembling a really smart team of epidemiologists,
doctors and pharmaceutical research and development teams; environmental
engineers and climatologists to work full-time on health control and population
maintenance.
On the other hand, I might
choose to do none of this and just remain an anonymous poet with no sway in
Mongolia or anywhere else and merely await implementation of this brilliant
scheme someday haphazardly.
Walking a Small Dog
A bird wrinkles a low
branch
as a hawk pierces the
stillness
and in a swoop a bird
passes the wrinkle deeper
into shade
I see motion, I hear the
shrieks, see color
brown against green
through leaves
Something is about to
happen
beyond my inattention
Routine
Business
Levitation
Blindness
Inaction
Escape
Motion
Velocity
A building high above the mist
The moon standing still in the sky
The forest casting living shadows
The wind blowing with abandon
Do not hesitate
Escape!
Together in movement
Moving
Scrambling
We must go!
The building glows from on high
A place of gold and comfort
Radiant with brilliant color
After you enter, realization comes to you
The skeleton of our leader is found in an
automobile
Its motor is leaking dark oil and stink
We must drive it away from here
To a remote, alien place
Come along with me, we are going now
Escape!
The reptile within is taking control
We cannot deny it
Our span of control is infinite
Stop the Earth too, in its tracks
Crawl to the pavilion in the whirling sound
Escape now!
Pink Ginger
Flailing nixes of cruciform thunks
flunked as badly as the skunk stunk
warbling junk to monsieur le drunk punk
or so informs a crunk quidnunc monk
Ginger got her jack-in-the-box gunk
which went funk and clunk into a trunk
then slunk downward and sunk
away from he who plunks a song chunk
Who warbled and what song was it when
the downward spelunk spunk clinked and sunk
What nixes fixed the stinking rupture skunk
to the libelous brotherly rapscallion-men
Now, Ginger Pink suddenly slinks down to sink
into the drink in her jack-in-the-box mink
mountain whiskey
with clear head freed of media
water-conjured I swig
rivulent ancient essence
cold met with grainy heat
and time to unite
invisible spirits
of unknown variables
pickle barrel
brine cumber cuber seedsmore
sharp system stave
rationally reified unusual usuals
float forever jar retraction
I am a man wandering in to buy
realms of pickles the stars of which
fabricate smiling Czechoslovakian
sandwich blue plate specialities
down home not loose enough
to remember bright greenery
via pickle juice transparent hands
flown like birds down into green air
snack and tartar sauce garnished
in Friday night fish fry apogees
