Long Amarillo Poems
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I flop at truck stops
hid by other sleeping truckers.
I like the loneliness.
Amarillo, Detroit, Tacoma, Richmond,
places packed and stacked
with the bad and the good.
I scoot by paying no heed,
to features, just forms,
how bodies once glimpsed
sometimes return inside of me.
Cities of light, death-heads hidden
no one is looking.
I’m not looking either — just driving through,
hauling and honking.
No one looking.
Launderettes and liquor stores;
five finger fandangos in the back,
chicken wings and Jack D.
Atlantic City, Apalachicola,
soaking in the slipstream
while America looks somewhere else.
What are you watching America?
Sometimes I think
only the coyotes are paying attention.
Roads thread through my fingers.
The Great Lakes shimmer,
Rockies rear-up and ripple.
Moving along not looking,
just driving.
Old men on benches stare
as I hammer on by, and blare,
as if I were an 18-wheeled rolling exhibit
of America itself.
Like a burnished silver concho, from Pancho Villa’s boot
That ol’ Spanish moon comes slidin’ over Encantada Butte
Then the Chisos they go stealin’, down Coahuila way
Montaña mariachis and they’re comin’ out to play
Baile con mio M'hijito
Señoritas, come dance and sing
Dance por mañana acechanzas
And soon the long shadows grow wings
The boulders make a circle as the sagebrush clears a path
And I thought I heard poquitos try to hide a little laugh
Por los gringos son mas grande, and they lumber as they waltz
While the chicas curtsey daintily and try to hide their faults
Baile con mio M'hijito
Señoritas, come dance and sing
Dance por mañana acechanzas
And soon the long shadows grow wings
As he plays the bajo sexton, the big one starts to sing
With a low and throaty whisper Mochuelo takes the wing
El coyote joins the chorus, amarillo cacti glow
Y los mestizos vaqueros, lie sleeping down below
Baile con mio M'hijito
Señoritas, come dance and sing
Dance por mañana acechanzas
And soon the long shadows grow wings
La Luna slides down in the saddle of Serranias del Madre
And the Chisos they go stealin’, back up Tejas way
They tiptoe cross the river, Rios Bravos y Grande
Soñoliento bailadores, they lie dreaming for the day
Baile con mio M'hijito
Señoritas, come dance and sing
Dance por mañana acechanzas
And soon the long shadows grow wings
It was dusty, dry and endless
Stretched beneath an empty sky
From horizon to horizon
Where the turkey buzzards fly,
Like a landscape meant to warn you
Just how far a man can fall.
Except for Ruby in El Paso,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Took a powder in Fort Stockton.
Crossed the Pecos makin’ time.
San Antone gave way to Austin
On the Travis County line.
Shot a rattlesnake in Waco
With my back against the wall.
Except for Bobbi-Jo in Beaumont,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
I’ve seen Lubbock and Laredo,
Seen Odessa/Midland, too.
Met a sweet young thing in Brownsville,
Just another déjà vu.
Didn’t tell her I was leaving,
But I promised her I’d call.
Except for Emmylou in Houston,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Learned to do the Stockdale two-step
In the local Lone Star style.
Danced a Galveston fandango
With a Corpus Christi smile.
Set a sucker up in Dallas,
But my partner dropped the ball.
Except for Jill in Amarillo,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Girl, I’m sorry that I called you
So darn late the other night
I started thinkin’ when I was drinkin’ and
Had a thought to call and say hi
Girl, I’m into you so, you're the whole dang show
I grabbed up my phone that knows your name
Had my lovin’ words up ‘n ready to go
As beer was dullin’ down the pain
C1:
Then I told
Your pretty pretty face
That I’m still ridin’ bulls in Amarillo (but)
Needed to hear
Your sweet sweet voice
Before my hurtin’ head hit the pillow
But hun.. my 8-second ride.. had them all cheerin’
It may be the beer but
You’re all I was hearin’..
Yeah, all I was hearin
I know you hate the calls
But your voice really helps me win
If you wanna stop them forever
Come on the road
Com’on just give in
C2:
Then I told
Your pretty pretty face
I’m still ridin’ bulls in Hermosillo (but)
Needed to hear
Your sweet sweet voice
Before my hurtin’ head hit the pillow
But hun, my 8-second ride had them all cheerin’
It may be the beer but
You’re all I was hearin’..
And if you say no
I’ll go it alone
With my phone (and)
Your pretty face
An-me explainin’ that
I’m still ridin’ bulls in Camarillo (but)
Needed to hear
Your sweet sweet voice
Before this hurtin’ head hit the pillow
But hun, my 8-second ride had them all cheerin’
It may be the beer but
You’re all I was hearin’
Yeah, all I was hearin
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep amidst disarray
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!
These old boots, they've sure been around. They don't know where their goin' but they sure know where they've been. Drinkin' Corona and dancing with a Mexican Senorita in Jaurez, the smell of perfume and Tequila fill the air. Gracias for the good time, but these old boots got to go. Hitched a ride on an old cattle truck to El Paso, my Stetson blocking the sun and hiding my bloodshot eyes. Throwing cow chips at an old wooden fence, I count the $100 dollars I just made at the slaughter house, the foreman said "you work like that you'll make good money boy". "Thanks, but these old boots got to go" I said. "That $100 dollars sure went fast", I told the deputy as he unlocked the gate at the jail sitting in downtown Amarillo smoking a Marlboro with my thumb in the air, thinkin', these old boots got to go. Tired and weary, I got a motel room for $50 bucks I made on a sway-back horse in a low-class rodeo outside Albuquerque but don't remember much about last night other than the empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the table. Dippin' in a can of Kodiak, I'm thinking to myself, these old boots got to go. That Budweiser sure did taste good after bailing hay in the snow in Durango, as night fell pickin' my guitar as the cowgirls on the dancefloor cut a rug. I thought to myself, the good times don't last forever so these old boots got to go. I've been a lot of things' and nonthin at the same time, money in my pocket and a liquor bottle, I roll on down the road like a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. Back in big sky country, the prairie grass sways in the breeze casting shadows on my tombstone. Hard work and hard drinkin' caught up to me, but I had fun y'all, these old boots got to go...........
I awaken, alarmed by contagion’s dread,
by the advancing bubonic omen.
My muscular spasms unleash, involuntarily.
My astonished malediction yawns, cavernous.
I gawk vacantly in my remaining moments,
at icy stones beneath my trembling feet.
Just a prisoner, I conclude.
Just an incorrigible coward.
Inconsolable, impotent, lachrymose,
I await my execution.
My penalty decreed in infectious agent.
My sentence prescribed in replicating pathogen.
Cacophonous are my incessant night terrors,
allying insomnia with somnambulism,
compounding calamity with conception.
No redemption in these ranting forecasts.
But I cannot reduce the fever.
And raving violence only deepens.
Yet, when capacity breathes hush in my channel,
I close my eyes.
Letting go is migrating sentience.
I am the silent release departing.
With my interior eye of providence,
I verify the amber brilliance,
this luz de Amarillo,
The Quaker’s inner light.
The Hindu’s moksha.
The Shaker’s simple gifts.
The Buddha’s luminous mind.
Dimensionless.
Breathing again, radiant rapture quenching.
Breathing again, from the riverbank,
watching mortal suffering float by.
And in Yoga, the knots of trauma
dispel from my vertebrate. My spinal lesson,
the simplest song for which I find no words.
My lives and deaths are passing weather systems.
Forbearance offers pristine extinction.
La lluvia cae con fuerza (aguacero)
Las nubes cargantes de agua
Una hacia otra estrella
Quedando en la tierra chaparrón
El caballo galopa en la pradera
Como con alas vuela
Galopeando en la pradera
Sin rumbo ni dirección
El caballo en la tierra
Cae un rayo en la ciudad
La ciudad inmensa y grande
No se escapa de la tierra
Sino el rayo cae
Como el águila hacia la ratonera
Las olas azotan la playa
El lienzo azul
Sobre el altar
Así también la onda
Contra el mar
El viento mueve los árboles
De lado a lado se mueve
El árbol en el viento
Que si Dios no quiere
Ni la hoja del centro
El sol sale en el horizonte
En el horizonte sale
Bien brillante y amarillo
El sol, parece darle
Una cobija al frió Por: Nena Enriquez
Form:
12/3/20
I opened and jumped out my window
I saw the bigger picture not just life through a window
Went to help out kinfolk
At times had to do the limbo
Wasn't always simple
Jack be nimble
The real thing, not no ditto
Never really got into disco
Or listened to Cisco
I don't need no intro
Too many minnows
Bimbos
And nymphos
It don't mean s*** though
Drinking, while smoke billows inside a limo
Still learning and obtaining info
Got lit with a few Zippos
Off that drank and indo
Harder shell than an armadillo
She tried to kill me, like a black widow
Near the town of Amarillo
But I got the better of that sicko
Too many people softer than a pillow
Got to grow up, can't keep being a kiddo
Close and far from Pismo
Took care of business with or without a gizmo
In life did no good being a Schizo
Didn't always need to tiptoe
Took a ride on a Pinto
Got off and stood Akimbo
Nearby waters filled with Hippo
Girl told me her name was Calypso
That she was originally from Jalisco
And use to work for Nabisco
She thought I was sweet like Peanut Brittle
And a bag of Skittles
Nah, it wasn't like that, not even a little
Little by little
Was able to chisel
And whittle
Music made with or without a fiddle
Life was much more than a complicated riddle
Had to think outside the box, not remain stuck in the middle
Even though what I did was abysmal
Hit myself with a missile
And woke up in the hospital
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!