Attendant Poems

Transmission

(“Simple Mind”, 2011, original acrylic)

Transmission

Some individuals, places and situations
Bestow upon our mindstreams
The blessing of profound transmission
Giving us a glimpse of timeless awakening.

And in this moment our minds effortlessly 
Open to what we’ve been hiding,
And our cup becomes full 
From on high, overflowing once again.

This transfer of chi with attendant insight
Is no linear one way street
But instead a circle in the natural flow
Of Life's essence.

(6/10/25)

Do Your Worst

Perhaps you think I’m sitting here, amazed.
Egregious as the test you set me is,
the truth is, I am utterly unfazed.

Desultory, to me, this kind of quiz.    
Of course I like a challenge. Don’t we all?
God’s chosen one? The lawyer. He gets his.

Concupiscence I’ll use (I have the gall):   
attendant difficulties, I ignore.
Tough polysyllables? The merest squall 

before the sunshine. What I most adore,   
objectively, is playing with your mind:
you throw me junk, I somehow make it soar.  

So do your worst. I thrive on rotten rind.    
Opprobrium I effortlessly flout,
neglect embrace: contumely, leave behind.

The rancour’s like the Russians, put to rout, 
or North Koreans, tied up, tamed and  tazed.   
You’ll try, but you will never catch me out.

Meat Market

Jenny leaned against the counter, counting the stitches where Ariana’s arm had been severed, each segment arranged in clinical precision beneath the glass. The overhead lights hummed, sterile and white, reflecting off the muscle striations, the fine marbling of fat. The attendant, masked and impassive, weighed the cost. A rib’s soft curve. A shoulder blade, gleaming. “Is this enough?” she asked, voice catching in the cold air.

Ariana’s skin, rolled tight like butcher’s parchment, was pressed beneath the scalpel, measured by the inch. Each cut—exact, economical. Josh preferred the delicate portions, the leanest tissue, the parts that held the least resistance. He inspected the yield, thumbs tracing the tendon’s taut line, fingers pressing where nerve met bone, the quicksilver exchange of possession.

Outside, his boots clapped against wet pavement, the rhythm steady, expectant. Jenny imagined his hands pawing through the parcel, the slow unfurling, the practiced hunger. The body, greater than the sum of its parts, was dissolving into the transaction.

The register chimed. A cat licked the wrapping paper. Steam rose from an open vent, curling into the streetlamp glow.

Slurring at the Elephant in the Room

How many times have we met? I don't have thick skin
if I were to come under the needle of a vet;

barf would linger on clothes that aren't yet washed
down by the hose of a zoo attendant.

The span of your ears sweeping back the stench
I exude with perspiration, thanks, elephant.

My rumbly gut on your gut, your rotund barrel
takes us over Niagara Falls.

A cold, yet steamy mist can exit rage.
A friendliness plummets over me where I stand

too drunk to squirm and go visit my girl.
I turn and want to unlatch my cage, bar

pressing my nose to what might be in store
not ready to eat hay nor sleep on the floor,

grateful that your prehensile
trunk can reach in the fridge and snag a beer.

THE OLD CHICKEN COUP

There she stood with tears rolling down her face and cheeks
Looking downward – such innocence – mild and meek
Her first trip to the slaughter house was no joke
Proved to be a one-sick hoax!

Slowly but surely – she told us the story
Leaving out NOT the gory!
“I was asked by dad
To join him fast
To pick out a chicken
 “O Good Riddens!
At last – no fret
I’m picking out my very first pet!” 
Is what I thought
When my breath I caught!

So, with joy in my heart,
And exuberant glee at start
I singled out the healthiest plump!
The attendant let out a little grunt
Roughly taking the chicken outback
She grunted sternly: ‘Wait Right here…I’ll be right back!’
With one quick twist
Of her hand and wrist
The chicken’s neck she snapped in half.
Mortified I stood on the chicken’s behalf!

Speechless, I stood - so panic-stricken
Horrified and mortified because of the chicken!

With no further delay
To my dismay
I was handed a bag
While the attendant let out a mischievous laugh!

From this day forward, I shall live to fret
Of what occurred to my chicken-pet
And live forever with my regret
Of visiting the Old Chicken Coup
All for mom’s LIVE Chicken Soup…?

during take-off i shouted, 'GODSPEED, JOHN GLENN'

the plane ascended.
i yelled it.

this straw in the wind; fly fly fly
i felt it was a necessary affectation 

to ensure a safer flight
or rather a calmer form of passenger

bring out the java
i want to ride the bean

we soar, slope upward 
i greet the turbulence 

with grit
i summon over a flight-attendant and 

offer to help up there with the pilot
she politely turns down my offer

and the choppiness subsides
but i still want a role

give me valiantness, worthiness, nobility 
and astropolitics 

we thank the crew as we disembark 
i look into the flight attendant's helium-3 eyes

'when men are arrived at the goal, they should
not turn back.'

i was stopped at immigration for four hours

Miss Sweden's Summer

The moderate warmth,
and its attendant
humid air,
rising mild temperatures
on smoothened sands.
Tilting towards the warm
showers of the tropical sun,
and basking on the tranquil
beach, I enjoy a sunbath.
With my sunscreen lotion,
applied gently on my soft
and beautifully tanned
Scandinavian skin,
I warm up for the
forthcoming global annual
beauty competition
in the land of the flying
fish.

Long Thin Blade of Weariness

Long Thin Blade of Weariness...
gloom of daze parries the long thin blade of weariness
metaphors adjust frequency matched patterns of
interwoven connectivity through mirrored meaning...
sameness, a variation of conformity, eventuates in 
perennial lack for something notable to
be rendered as an attendant distraction...
corsets laced tightly although it be hidden...
armatures support long in the tooth masses of
wobbly flesh and bones devouring kindred signs of desire...
levied endowments of netting bespoken quietly
as their whispered confluence of thoughts,
still wet from their birth, makes for an interesting
Sunday brunch as served by some, received by others 
halve to have not - who says who scrapes the salt 
from the mines of harvested beingness?
who doth say anything at all?  
2024

Flight Attendant

Flight Attendant
Miracle Man
8/28/2024

My dearest friend whose name is Jo Jo,
when working her job kept her on the go.
But now retired,
she’s still admired,
because years have not stolen her glow.

The Goddess Glides

In satin gown resplendent 
A vision independent 
With eyes of green she hits the scene
A regular attendant 

She passes through the door 
Then glides across the floor 
A look of grace upon her face
A goddess evermore 

She then begins to dance 
The men are in a trance 
They only stare while frozen there
Too scared to take a chance 

At the bar she's standing prone
Drinking champagne on her own 
They pass her by but never try
So she goes home all alone

inception

Inception 

A near accident almost run over by a train
old heart, she collapsed in my arms
wrapped her in a blanket, looked asleep
we drove thro' the  long night headlights
made a temporary tunnel
If I turn the light off, we will disappear
I looked in the rear mirror, saw her smile
at the petrol station, the young attendant
seeing death up close paled 
this was reality, not play station 2c 
I found a cave that had straw on the ground
a lit candle on a niche, it was here Jesus lay
when the women came and cleaned his wounds
while his followers in the olive groove
his face  bore the agony suffered by the righteous 
I laid her beside him, she looked so brittle 
they had both achieved eternal life
She had no foreknowledge of impending demise
she had the purist of hearts
Jesus became a myth in our collective myth 
The Messiah 

  

Zen
first light 
brings clarity 
and forgiving

Robot Fills Up on Gas

In 1952 a robot stopped by the Sinclair gas station.
Walked up to the pumps and had an instant celebration.
Gas station attendant was horrified but stayed away.
As the creature filled up on gasoline that weird Tuesday.

make it snappy

Johnny rode up with his rideable car pedals screeching and screaming.
The new gas station attendant asked the boss “is it me? Am I dreaming?”
Go out there and pretend, the boss said, “It makes the kid happy.”
“Premium gas please,” Johnny said to the attendant “and make it snappy”.

FLYING G

It’s a Hound Dog, a bus or plane?
It’s the Flying G on the Runway Lane
Did you know Greyhound’s know how to fly?
I will explain the reason why
At one point, Greyhound dog legs leaped to the friendly skies with wings
Yes, you read right wings
The Greyhound Bus Company that was the Canadian version of Greyhound Air
A flying machine
People don’t relate the bus company to the air
It was a company beyond compare
People thought that the Greyhound bus company was grounded to the highways, but the Hound Dog was seen in the air along with the other major airlines
Just imagine a Flight Attendant voice welcoming you aboard Greyhound Air in fasten your seat belts and observe no smoking
Flying G with up and down wheel gears
Have no fear, the Flying G will help preserver
However, the airline ceased operations in 1993
The flying G was the way to go
Now you know
The Hound was always the highway flow now, but a slower pace
You will always see Greyhound’s in their race
As for the travelling passenger, it becomes an out of breath chase
Trying to keep up the Greyhound pace.

Building a Dream

("Peyote Dreams", 2018, original encaustic)

Building a Dream

Building a dream
one thought at a time, each
with attendant sensations
flowing from a creative mind,
isn’t so hard to do,
but it can be a struggle,
even castles made of sand 
are work, too much work
when they cease being fun,
better to write on water
or leave our thoughts 
in the sky, effortlessly
painted in a sunset
flowing in a cloud train
wherever the wind may blow…

(2/14/24)

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