"i was lyin' in a burned out basement"
she watches me.
sees what i'm doing.
brings me a fresh cup
of coffee, glances up
at the computer-monitor
but knows i can't write
if she's reading each
& every word as i
type
i inevitably
stop
"i'm in cleaning-mode
so while the energy lasts
i'm cleaning," ann explains
earlier.
ok! i yell over
neil young yelling
in the sunny livingroom.
i see the edge of her
thru our doorways
washing dirty dishes
wears long yellow
rubber gloves
her right foot taps on kitchen rug
she is awash in freckles nude, shy
look, she's
peeking this
way now
what i shld do
there's our square red jeep
& low maroon buick skylark
below in a totally sun-exposed
parkinglot below the guard-rails
of west grandview boulevard.
i shld at least check
the 8 tires for pressure,
check fluid-levels,
stick my head under the hoods
of both vehicles
but it is so fucking abnormally
sunny & blue & almost warm
& nick drake is strumming
a narcotic melody between
the upper livingroom windows
he glues me down onto a chair
& i just
stare & vegetate
listen
& write
"you can do
that tomorrow, darling,"
ann
reassures me.
hell yes,
tomorrow. a flute floats
below my
collar-bone
like a sea-
gull
hovers
& screams in
synchronistic
chords of carnival
days
barbituates
dusty
anxieties
turmoil
with a belly
full of
worms
tiny worms
emerge from
my eyes'
tear-glands
the distance
from here to you
is different than
miles or a new
town beginning
another life with
another night-shift
factory job
maybe in maine
maybe a marilyn
monroe poster
is stuck to my
bed's head-board
& i call all
girls betty
a kid of me freezes
in the 1950's,
duck-tail'd,
oil'd,
curling a smile
like elvis
at life
i think
large eels
are whirling
around inside
my intestines
they gum
my stomach
open
i
leak
lady-like
menstruation
cancer of
the mind
enhancements
we see similar
ways
to be happy
it all means
money
it does
i don't care what
anarchists believe
or don't believe
capitalists
catapult
over
amerika
just thinking this morning
driving home this morning
a somewhat weird night
of work i space thinking
about social security
statements mailed each
year about the past
3 years
listing yearly earnings
& computations
if disability occurs
or death
money-figures
a month
what i get
at early retirement
what i get
if i reach 66
look
the new report
comes in the mail
today!
in my own way
i'm god
i make things happen
create these days
of coincidence
& luck
of failure
& doom
my mind is a
safety-net
trapeze
words
bounce
up
&
down
up
down
pulsation
in a bull's-eye
let
there be
light
& lightness
safety-
nets
under
safety-
nets
i see them
reading my hometown newspaper
obituaries of men
in their 70's & 80's
men i saw on the streets
30 & 40 years ago
are noted as serving
in world war two --
"he was a squadron bomber"
or "he fought at the battle
of the bulge" --
amerika's boys
in the guts of old
europe
warring against
hitler; well, we won,
hitler ate a gun,
nazi swastikas
straightened into
& turned
into
crosses. our soldiers
return to hometowns
& live lives:
50 years at the
end of the 20th
century,
rewards like happiness,
heart-ache,
who cares,
anything in this land of
freedom
as long as existence
braves repression --
old soldiers,
they are dying
away.
& the ones
dead in mud
in 1946
19,
tenuously
heroic,
shot-
gunn'd
into oblivion
splashing
in ocean
shore-water:
stars
ice
night air.
fog,
ghosts,
our tumble
across
to-
day.
in the morning before filipski & bart visit
i sleep in strange
patterns from like
7 yesterday evening
to 7 this morning.
twelve hours not
of solid sleep but
rather think
you stand on some
high cliff-side
where it's very
windy
it's 1866
it's the atlantic
ocean crashing
far below
the wind shaving
yr beard & hair
back as you
face
the infinite future
smiling
remembering
this half gallon
of potato vodka
from poland
read up
in touch with ron androla
...and john hennessey
click to view movie/poem - eggs