he couldn't sail

my great granddad was on the late train

he delivered the US mail

right out of college he needed a job

and he knew he couldn't sail

he held important letters inside a leather sack

i watched him shuffle on down the freight line 

but never knew if he was coming back

white smoke and black noise filled the air

while my great granddad sat on his lonely chair

on the last car leaving at night

sorting his letters by candlelight

no woman to keep him company

he had an important job to do

whatever he might have been thinking

he knew the mail had to go thru

each day could be slow or amazingly fast

each day could be his last

but he had a smile as he counted sacks

rolling down the railroad tracks:

my great granddad was on the late train

he delivered the US mail

right out of college he needed a job

and he knew he couldn't sail.

 

Le Coeur a gaz (1923, Tristan Tzara)

the play was three short acts, &

the last spectacle on the program was a

complete Dada farce,

with a trumpet blaring inanely, mangling the Marseillaise

in front of an infuriated audience.

this time around, there were no professional actors

to storm out singing about the utter pointlessness

of pretending to be body parts while wearing cubist costumes

made of stiff tubing,

which reduced their walking to a geriatric shuffle on stage.

outside on the street, the police heard the angry voices and stormed inside,

where fist fights between Dadaists and the future Surrealists

had begun in earnest,

with several already badly beaten and in no mood to be mollified.

shouts for order bounced off walls, hitting no one.

but damage to the small theater was considerable:

seats were smashed and faces bloodied.

Louis Aragon tried to rescue Eluard while the police arrested

the entire audience!

but later,

they concluded it was all a big misunderstanding.

Sir Elvis Presley

in the state of Tennessee

i left the freeway

to climb an old oak tree

once owned by Sir Elvis Presley

before he hit the sack of an apparent heart attack.

he had an iconic pink Cadillac,

a 1965 which he'd drive

all the way from Tupelo.

the Blue Moon Boys put on their famous jail house show

after the high speed drive, you know,

before Elvis gyrated his hips out of joint

trying to make an innocent black and white point

at the lonely Heartbreak Hotel.

the backyard wishing well

was filled with dozens of blue suede shoes

which made it easy for him to choose

which pair to wear.

in the state of Tennessee

i found the Rockabilly Boys

playing Chuck Berry songs with all their musical toys

heading down to Nashville.

there, they'd eat to get their fill

of rhythm and blues and an old hound dog

because 

in the state of Tennessee

they don't eat much frog.

it's an unforgivable

it's an unforgivable

and too often repeated

CRIME

against humanity

white mob intimidation

and RULE

beyond cruel

vicious and violent

heartless torment

causing death

bleeding and painful

SHAMEFUL

hardly an indictment

levied

even when the FBI pokes a nose

into the affair

it isn't merely UNFAIR

it's an unforgivable.

under Southern heat

i heard Merl sing
after lunch time
on the prison floor
for a red hot dime

he sang real hard
meant what he wrote
about a hanging judge
with a midnight rope

and a dark man
on a wild horse
underneath the tree
being held by force

long time ago
white as a sheet
in a rural land
under Southern heat

laughing at love
smiling at pain
trying to be bad
swinging in the rain

i heard Merl sing
outside his cell
just like Johnny Cash
in a wishing well

he sang real hard
meant what he said
that an outlaws' life
was better than dead

long time ago
white as a sheet
in a rural land
under Southern heat

a nuclear Iran

the grilled chicken salad was a perfect meal

and you were the perfect guest,
as i watched you easily eat your plate clean
with a fork and a knife:

what an appetite for life!

it appeared to me that you enjoyed
our time together:

my iced root beer wasn't able to
provide any profound statements,
although i sipped with eagerness.

the grilled hamburger i ate resulted in an
onion burp far removed from our table
but i covered my mouth and apologized
to no one in particular.

it's true, as we discussed, that a nuclear Iran would pose
regional balance-of-power issues!

what is not certain is if the Israeli
Air Force will send 100 (+/-) fighter jets
on a preemptive attack against these nuclear
facilities, creating awful uncertainty.

but it seems certain that Muslim terrorism is 
a growing worry worldwide.

Hamas and Hezbollah, hear me!

October 7, & a redux, perhaps?

climbing over the rubble?

what is not understood is how to address this
extremism!

there are historical facts about Islamic
expansionism that we can know with certitude,

but IS this truly expansionism when the land in question has always been lived on,

cared for, kissed and loved?

i have not read the Koran or The Satanic Verses,

but perhaps in uneasy dreams, i, too, could become a suicide bomber, 
wearing an explosive vest or belt,

anxious to express my outrage and defiance!

the Middle East is on the knife edge, and all blades are historically sharp.

we also have sharp eyes to see what is necessary,

and eyes to cry, as well as to see suffering.

but who will publish the guide book?

and i trust you didn't have too much trouble
digesting our meal together,

assuming you saw it clearly.

on the love seat, quietly listening

it was winter and the snow geese stayed busy in the snow.

i asked if she'd like a cup of coffee.

again, the North Korean leader said to
prepare for war
and what is more
the behavior of subatomic particles
is fundamentally unknown to the many people
the world over
who have fetishes.

Putin, meanwhile, acting like a rag with no intention of selling
his shares of the Black Sea,
kept squeezing all the piss and vinegar
from nearby Ukraine, hoping
the natural laws would seem less menacing,
the nails in his head would no longer cut his hands,
and a guitar found dead near the Moskva river
would no longer seem like such a paradox.

the threatening noise from that shadow rising in the East,
like a sorcerer's apprentice,
grew harder
when i slipped my
finger inside her panties.

it was always a cold day in Hell but warmer near my wood fire,
the grey mantle rocks radiating their protective heat as
her soft moans reassured me that my fingers
were generating
an illusion of protection against the gathering storm.

she said she'd love a cup of coffee.

Einstein was close with his famous notion of general relativity,
which is deterministic,
and he had no intention of selling his idea to just any bidder:

he spent many years hard at work with sticks and stones
and strings,
trying to answer the question of how to securely tie the button.

both the Bishop and the Iman tired to ignore him,
and their many allies also feigned disinterest while
from a close distance
they watched me kissing her neck,
becoming especially aroused when her two lovely breasts
were eventually exposed.

suddenly, no one could guess what would happen next!

it's always that way,
that much was certain,
while she and i sipped our coffee together on the love seat, quietly listening.  

Shuffle in C

they called him the King

but he didn't know what he wanted to B

looking around for a place to sing

he did the Shuffle in C

driving thru town in his pickup truck

feeling damn good but down on his luck

no holds barred riding out on the range

heading late at night into tiny La Grange

where Austin ladies with their Hollywood dreams

sway under the lights of his pickup high beams. 

feeling damn good but down on his luck

looking for adventure in his bright red truck

heading to California or by damn it's a bust

leaving behind the hot Texas dust

for, well, just about anywhere else!

by why not just stop?

to dance with the ladies until they all drop!

they called him the King

but he didn't know what he wanted to B

looking around for a place to sing

he did the Shuffle in C.

fishing for the soul

a long war and a needless war

although some are short and important

but all are terrible and traumatic

and there are horrible injuries and horrible deaths

scars on skin and scars inside skin

legs without bodies

bodies without heads

heads without hope

memories

dreams which reoccur like breath

in and out

out and in

weaving and bobbing

fishing for the soul.

so Picasso didn't know

so Picasso

didn't know

James Madison,

but he knew quite well

Dora and her magic spell.

and he often wore a dandy hat

going to a fancy Paris ball. 

his first wife, Olga, wrapped an ankle

due to her opera fall.

their marriage took a turn for the worse,

but there was no Spanish curse;

he simply decided he deserved what he wanted

and vows be damned,

and how the wind doth ramm!

like the unholy penis in his skillful hand,

he felt great and had the EYE:

short and spry,

full of himself while distorting any female breast.

yes, who could have guessed?

he stroked and poked and painted,

grabbed Jacqueline by the neck until she fainted.

later-in-life ceramics on the shelf and red clay on the floor;

a favorite brush on a small table by his studio door,

far from Montmartre and his room with Fernande and being poor.

the young boy with a gift

on the world stage as an adult in an untethered skiff, 

adrift,

clutching his genius.

a Purple Heart award

i'll give you something to chew on,

like a piece of fat or a this or that:

when young, i pulled a wing from the body of a colorful

Monarch butterfly and felt nothing was amiss.

i caught a yellow and black bumblebee with a bare hand

and it stung me, but i didn't cry.

i tossed 6 colorful baby chicks from a 2nd floor porch on

an Easter Sunday and they fell heavily onto the

black asphalt of a driveway.

they all died from the fall, but i didn't understand death.

my mother madly chased me around our home but before she could grab me, 

i dashed into the bathroom and quickly slammed shut the door!

i could clearly hear her screaming for me to open the door,

but it stayed firmly locked.

a while passed before she handled a garden axe and threatened to

smash the door if i didn't open it!

i watched the leading edge of her axe as it blasted thru the flimsy wood door.

my father kicked me when he became angry, which was often.

he had a temper and i was his little boy, too available.

i once found his brass knuckles in the master bedroom;

they looked well worn.

i still have a knife tip scar on my right forearm, but can't remember

whether it bled when i was initially cut;  my father said it was an accident.

on a memorable Christmas morning, my excitement to open a first present

was smothered by the realization that it was a gift box filled with black Pennsylvania

anthracite coal.  The coal was hard, small chunks of aged rock.

i sat in stunned silence, the box on my lap.

as a young adult, i became a soldier in a foreign war in South Vietnam,

but i didn't merit a Purple Heart award.

i already had one, thank you.

the Deng government

It's been called many things,

now Beijing:

a large city wherein the Deng government ordered soldiers,

most all of whom were wearing combat helmets and clean uniforms,

to enter Tiananmen Square.

mere moments after, hopes and dreams were crushed, mangled, obliterated,

as were bicycles,  left riderless

underneath the steel treads of angry, active armored tanks.

i remember that exact date in 1989

because a friend of mine

died.

he was shot multiple times

while standing defiantly between his mother and elder sister,

both of whom cried as they fled on foot,

into the screaming darkness!

hundreds murdered, shot, beaten by dutiful young men

who followed commands;

thousands more were rounded up like cattle,

herded and whipped and taken away

from the huge square where freedom hoped to live.

and like the historical death of Jesus,

the believers in freedom and democracy know

that the CCP stone impediment will roll away from this tomb,

and a new fleet of bicycles,

with fresh air inflating onward rolling tires,

will return to Tiananmen Square,

with courageous Chinese riders steering their handlebars toward a

a new nation.

and it will be a happy nation, too,

because dreams will be allowed.

Chemical Ali: morte 01/25/2010

Chemical Ali was not there
in the rarified air
at the summit of Alpe d'Huez
where a sign in French says
"Allez Armstrong"
go hard and long

he was often hung in the press
accused of doping i should guess
but never strung on the gallows as Ali
is soon to be

yet he seriously kicked ass
and would certainly out-class
most sports writers
playing pencil lovers dull as fighters

Chemical Ali will soon be dead
for what he did, not what he said
the ghastly gassing of the Kurds
an act of evil beyond mere words

innocent children and mothers
fathers sisters brothers
uncles aunts old middle young
poisonous clouds all far flung
by Iraqi Migs and French Mirages
no racing bicycle in those garages

thousands dead and homes razed
survivors stumbling in a toxic daze

while Saddam smoked his Cuban cigar
sipped bourbon adjacent to his palace bar

holding perfect Kosta Boda crystal
and his famous Glock 18C pistol

but Chemical Ali was not there!

along for the ride

tiny pieces of my heart

well, where should i start?

upside down, left side, right side:

there's nowhere to hide

but i'm along for the ride;

someone is telling the truth and someone lied:

i remind myself that i've always tried!

and when finally i climb to the top,

even then the pains never stop.

but between the rounds, after the bell sounds

there's just a simple bloody nose;

is this the lesson that everybody already knows?

digging deeper and the road keeps getting steeper,

but plugging away helps me on my way,

tapping toes, 

watching to see which way the wind blows

and that's good enough for me, holding my own key.

opening doors, sweeping floors

thinking it's really not too hard,

shuffling along with just one playing card:

there's somebody singing my favorite song

so how can i ever go wrong?

tumble weeds and flower seeds,

Sheryl Crow and mistletoe 

that's about all i care to know:

tiny pieces of my heart

well, where should i start?

upside down, left side, right side:

there's nowhere to hide

but i'm along for the ride;

someone is telling the truth and someone lied:

i remind myself that i've always tried!