he was pouring at the happening and usually there is a fair amount of disdain for the enthusiasts
who like to sidle up to sample the snacks, libations and what have you goodies.
he was a wisp of fair blond - a hippy kid.
he asked me if I would like him to crack my can of brew
I told him that this was not necessary
I looked at some stuff and listened to some other stuff
trying to maintain a bit of elbow room
while the crowds swirled and yammered
biding some time before refill and then I went back for another and he
cracked this one for me and said "cheers"
I drank it down and went for a walk down the street
I did not want to appear to be too gluttonous so I gave it some minutes
when I resurfaced in the crowded room and foraged thru the groups back to my man
he smiled and said "I grabbed this one at the bottom so that its chilled and now it needs to be shotgunned".
I laughed and retorted with double thumbs up
Impressed that this cat accurately assessed my quench and provided a
responsive and congenial atmosphere in one that can be rather unpleasant and clannish
my man had it
and I salute him for it
the damn hippy dippy
had it
kindness
Hunters so wary,
Rosco and Larry,
Killed them a kitten-like
Wendigo fairy.
Down went Leviathan
Small as a Guppy
Three-headed hellhound
As sweet as a puppy.
Out on safari
Rosco and Larry
Shotgunned each other
Twas narry so merry.
Word Toccata in A Major
Jaundiced ’53 Cadillac in my sweetheart’s carport.
She leaves the hole keys inside the empty fish bowl.
Hidden in her trunk are a set of golf clubs with knife wounds;
Her secret boyfriend with the purple tattoo of a face scar,
Recites from shotgunned memory the Love Song by Mister Eliot,
As my sweetheart bathes upstairs with a fleeting candle and Camay,
Pure white, and scented as eucalyptus breaths in the cooing moonlight.
Fevered ’49 Commodore parked luridly in her back alley.
He retrieves the hole keys from within the empty fish bowl.
Hidden in her trunk are a brace of golf balls with black bruises;
Soon he will trudge through fairway greens in pursuit of exotic birds,
Reciting Prufrock with two young robins pecking seed before him.
Upstairs now, he relaxes in my sweetheart’s bath with Camay and a gun,
Pure crimson, and scented as medusae bulbs in the screaming moonlight.
Holbert
Brogans and overalls by Lee;
Making cotton baskets ‘neath a white oak tree.
A grandfather I never really knew
that smoked Prince Albert; it was tried and true.
Went by the name Holbert.
His wallet in his bib; no undershirt.
Sitting in a porch swing he made.
Across his yard the world he surveyed.
Once shotgunned an innocent crane.
Never had he seen such a thing;
Must be some kinda dinosaur.
One shot and it was no more.
Used a jar full of Morgan silver dollars
to buy tires for his ’49 Chevy.
Actions always prove who are the dullards.
No one ever accused him of being heady.
In the middle of the night once shot a stray.
Such dogs often killed our chickens.
Mortally wounded it died under our house
and started to decay.
My job to drag it out as my stomach
started to sicken.
Often to First Monday we would trek.
In his Sunday overalls he was bedecked.
Ripley a good place for selling baskets.
I would always watch to learn his tactics.
Soon old age came to stay.
Early in March he went away.
A lifetime ago it seems,
but often he returns to me
in my dreams.
My Dad as Blue Winged Teal
Life support had made him
fetal, feeding on O2
hissed through tangled tubes.
I signed my name
and click, he gasped, folding
like a shotgunned duck.
Then I passed out
and watched him
in the wind stropped rain,
thin hair plastered drip
drip slick, green split-
back gown untied,
slosh and lift,
gown-wings flapping.
Edison Jennings
don't wanna live in her garden of evil...don't wanna make love in her lies
drawn to darkness
driven to destruction
doomed to death...
drowning in the whirlpool in the middle of her thighs...
she's a lyrical spy with the invisible touch...roses to thorns and electric chairs into thrones
sitting on high she sifts me like wheat..once smart and strong now worthless and weak
magnet to the misery she inflicts on me like a pretty predator...
it's a *** horror movie and she's the director
the invasive inspector...she never misses a beat
i'm sweating bullets in her lyrical heat
cupid leaves me stupid with his annihilation arrows...
i fall to the earth like shotgunned sparrows
her mind is narrow and her aim is dead on
i run through her garden of evil singing the same sad song
the snare unfolds like mental minefields in a genocidal generals worst defeat
the trap is tripped and the pain is long...upside down from her whipping tree
cat claws sprout as my body screams...neurotic nightmares and domination dreams
the web wraps around my heart,mind,and soul...
nowhere to run and nowhere to go
so i ride and roll in her garden of evil for eternity
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