Saturday, September 26, 2015

Still Life with American Work Ethic 
and Snooze Alarm 
(3 sheets on the wind)

The blue bedsheets 
drying on the line
swing loose
swing together
on a clean green breeze
they know the pine scent breezing
through their thread count 
is from real trees all around the house
and not from somebody's 

They look up at that house
up to the second floor 
to the bedroom window
they remember all that, being flat; 
but these sheets are so relaxed on the line 
- drying, floating, snapping - 
the pillow case looks over at the top sheet
then over at the fitted sheet, on the other side, 
and says, 
        " … awww, it’s so good to get outside!  WAY outside  "

Monday, September 21, 2015

Irish Midnite 

I'm on the end of the pier
watching every friend and relative
I have sail into the Atlantic.  

I don't know if I'll ever see them again. 

The ship sails smaller into a giant golden glow; 
the sun's spread, done, and going  down, 
into the sea. 

I can't see the ship anymore, only 
the overwhelming glow. 

I'm afraid to turn from the ship and the sea,  
but I turn around and walk down 
the pier, up the path, back to my hotel.

My room is up on the top floor, so when I
get up there, in a minute, I'll see far out over the sea,
and see the ship until it's gone over the edge. 

But from the forecourt I can see into my window
up on top of the hotel, and see that the golden glow
is all over the back wall of my hotel room, too. 

That wall will comfort me 
after the ship and the sun goes down. 

Friday, September 18, 2015

Sky, not falling; quite the opposite 

The chicken crossed the road 
and was immediately surrounded by the press. 

"Why?" they cried, in many languages. "Why
did you cross the road?" 

The chicken, who was smoking a suddenly 
legal cuban cigar, looked at all the members 
of the international press, then up; up 
at a fuzzy boom microphone 
hovering overhead. 

"Well, that reminds me of an old friend," he said. 

"The road, why the road?" The fever 
of the press was rising. "Por qué usted cruzar?"

The chicken smiled. He blew a smoke triangle,
because of the beak.

"Did you clear it with the Coop?"

"What co-op? You mean, like - a consortium?"
The chicken was trying to help clarify.

"No, the Coop! The Chicken Coop!" yelled
the press.

The chicken was looking over their heads
toward a misty thick green mystery of
pine trees. "Well," he said, "if that's what
you guys need, then go on, enjoy that, but no,
I'm not in a coop."

"Do you have citizenship?" Someone in uniform
asked, from the crowd. "This side of the road?"

The chicken smiled again, and started walking.
"Sure," he said. "Everywhere!" 

"But again, why?" asked the journalist in charge,
getting louder, standing with the uniformed one,
talking on a cell phone. "Why did you cross?"

"To get to the other side," said the chicken, softly
… getting farther and farther away.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Ventilation at the funeral

I’ve been dead for a week.
You laugh, but you’d be surprised at what’s next. 

The funeral home loaned me a Makita drill, cordless
to drill some holes in my coffin; they think
for ventilation (you're laughing again) 
but the holes are really so I can see out, 
and watch the funeral, starting any minute now.  

And here they come, with their jello chins, which 
I would be moved by, except who the hell are they? 
Oh … them. Now I see them. Oh … but wait,
didn't phone-call any of them, either. 

Goddamnit, I'm guilty too! Oh well … 

So there it is, the human race problem -
nobody around with much love, one to one 
until you die then here they come, 
on the double, and on the run! 

Emotional generosity is so much easier 
with an audience, people watching you do it 
in a group, all mise en scène'd out like that
and a big but appropriate party, later. 

But I'm like that too, and here I am 
tirading in a box, pining for love 
and company. Well, ok … now I know. 

I've learned, they'll see, you'll like it
when you get here; it's quite a place, 
I just came back from it to watch this,
and wait'll you see the clothes; you thought
you were going to be naked!

Oh, shhh … the funeral's starting. 
Better turn off your phone. 

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Heaven, I’m comin’ !

If you die alone 
and you might, who cares
LAUGH big, LAUGH loud
so they can hear you up there!

Lose all control, it’s high time for that; 
flash the color
even if it’s gone from your skin and 
flash that old body 
so they can see where you've been. 

The funeral is for them,
and they’re crying. 
You’re in the cool blue jet stream,
and flying … 

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Trickling out of the mainstream
You have worked hard, enjoy
this one day.
Laugh and lock the door, ignore 

Ignore the pop
Ignore your mom 
and pop

all them that says go get more.