The Coronation

This is a work of fiction. And similarities to persons living or dead is merely a coincidence. So there!

i heard there's gonna be a coronation followed
by a grand ball down at the VFW
the pageant won
the race canceled
-due to sunny weather

it was all in the paper
and i got my invitation, same as everyone else
but i think i'll pass

see, i remember this story in its infancy
back when it was a fairy tale
with missing chapters, the ones
that just can never get re-written
without a hollywood twist

the glass slipper will fit
the wizard will have the answers
and the dog will find his way home

but my cynicism is grumpy. and says
she's just on her way to becoming another
fat american housewife with Oprah's laugh
singing the afternoon theme song

i already heard she's making her hamburgers
just like Mrs. Johnson in the cul de sac
and the Mrs. Johnson next door
to all the other Mrs. Johnsons

and there ain't no magic
in a salsa made from indiana tomatoes

and most likely,
the spanish river will stop laughing,
just doze off for another thousand years
while the train stops parking
to refuel it's spirit- and hers

i heard they might give her Geronimo's medal
at the border, with one of
those little flags on a stick
or maybe just a corn dog


oh, i'll celebrate with her,
for her, but not at the VFW

alone, i'll quietly offer my toast
to the island of enchantment,
the river of forgotten spaniards.
the trees she made love to
and i'll tell the sleeping train
that maybe, just maybe,
fairy tales really do come true

Life On 3rd Avenue

back in the day, long before
google, CNN and blackberry
there was life on third avenue

the young boys played ball
back in the alley
the old men met for ten o'clock coffee
down at Carol's diner
and Roy at the butcher shop
weighed his cuts with his eyes,
eyes that were soft and kind

i'm talking back when starbucks
was still Bobby's Mac's House of Blues
and Ol Miller Jackson could bend
those strings around unknown corners

it would start slow and easy
just like the whiskey,
but around midnight, when
men closed their eyes
and began to sway,
when the holy spirit
began to move in waves
of sodden passion
Ol Miller would feel the fire, too
and he burned us up in the blaze

damn, it was good!

and Marley always sat in the corner
eyes fixed, lips pursed, leg swingin
never payin us any mind,
only the music

until Miller would smile her way,
start to chuckle, then wave her up,
and then, we who knew,
waited for our religion to come

God how that girl could tune our hearts
while Miller took her up into clouds

but that was then, and Miller's long
been laid to rest

and i used to walk past her place
when the club closed,
lean in the dim light,
against the lamp post
just below her window
and glance up to her shadow
drifting behind the shade

and once the light went out
i'd smile, and hum myself home

one night, in a steady rain
while i got wetter and wetter
waiting forever for that
light to go out,
instead, the shade went up,
the window raised open,
and i looked up to see Marley
sitting on the ledge, smiling

"What you doin out there in the rain,
you stupid boy? Aint you got a lick of sense?"
then she shook her head
and laughed into her hands

i threw my cigarette in the street
looked up through the rain
and smiled back
"Well, Miss Marley, I don't guess I do"

it was the first time she spoke to me,
first time i knew her to speak to anyone
first time i knew her to smile

course, that was a long time ago
and her apartment's now a verizon store

but i swear, back in the day
once upon a time
there was life
on third avenue

Crazies

On Valentine's Day, Margaret Page, and her cat, Miya, were reported missing
It seems Margaret and Miya pulled over and took a hike into Gila National Forest, in New Mexico, and just started walking, before making camp by a river.
They say, Margaret has a history of mental illness
And I suppose, "they" oughta know

Well, alls well that ends well
The sanies have found the crazies
And I'm sure there's a new evaluation on the radar

I wonder, if the sanies rescued the crazies, who drove the crazies into the wild?

i wish i had found them. Helped them escape, or maybe, they could've taught me how better to escape.
Maybe i'da just shared their fire and sleeping bag for a night. Swapped crazy stories. Learned Miya's devotion.
Maybe we coulda just died out there together
that would really piss the sanies off

Today I met an old Mama and her daughter in a back corner of a truck stop
Living in an old tiny school bus, a blanket in the window. They had a couple crazy dogs with them.
As is my way, I ended up at that bus. Jump started it with my big semi truck
They came from nowhere and are going nowhere
all they have is that bus. No family, no future, no history
I fell in love with them, as is my way.
She dreams of college and I didn't have the heart to tell her it ain't gonna happen
They say they're waiting on a money order from a distant cousin but i don't think that's gonna happen
either, though I didn't say so out loud.
I asked the girl, "Where is home?"
She just pointed to the bus.
She's just not a daughter, she's my daughter-and yours

anyway

there are no crazies
but what would the sanies do
without the lie?

how would the heroes
know who to save?
know that they're sane?

my porch light

does the ant see the stars?
at night, when the work is done
do they come out
sit in their ant chairs
and ponder?

do the lazy ones
lean against the ant hill
cross their ant legs
put a sprit of grass in their mouth
and dream?

or do they only see to the moon?
maybe only to the porch light

and do they call this God?
my porch light?
has the old grey wise ant
returned from my porch light
with his staff to preach salvation?

how big is their universe?
they've never seen beyond
my sidewalk

yet they have order and purpose

i've just read that finally
we've seen beyond our solar system
to the matter outside
and it don't look nothin like
the matter inside

do we see far enough?
are we the ant?

Find Me

have you seen them?
low in the sky?
the sparrows, in waves,
dancing like a celestial
musical note
in perfect harmony

dip, swirl, rise,bank, fall
then rise again, all as one

and that eagle there,
high in the branch
lording over the cliff
chest out, eyes like stainless
shaking off the wind

there's a bear in the brush
with nothing to do and
no one to fear
as he ambles, trampling the berries
claiming the brook
and snorting
just for the hell of it

the wolf wrapped in himself
opens his ancient eyes,
inhales the cold night,
then stands and trots off
into the fresh snow
cuz it's too quiet to sleep

somewhere in the canyon
there's a stallion
who's known hunger
and lust
but never a rope

there is a night
that speaks a cold that cracks
and a virgin sea before man

there, look there, but not with eyes
feel me, but not with your dirty heart
taste my solitude, and understand it
but all from a distance

then might you know me
then can i love you
then may we walk
in a sweet silence
never awkward

Labour

i've never wanted to be a farmer,
but now i know how they feel

when they lean upon the weathered
rail and look out over row after
perfect row of crop
worked to maturity

in winter, the field
was a sleeping bear
waiting to feel the plow
scratch his back

spring and summer became
a labor of hope
fertilize, plant, protect
create

and now, though still there
is work to be done
there is a moment to pause,
to reflect and know well-being

i've never wanted to be a carpenter
a cook, a designer of bridges,
but i know how they feel
when the table is set,
the house first knows life
and the bridge carries
her first car to the other side

maybe the potatoes will know lumps
the house, drafts of cold, and
the bridge, a bump or two
but perfection was always fantasy
ten dollars short of character

i've always envied the man
who sits on his porch watching
his lawn of weeds grow ugly,
watches the world go by
in passing

so i became him
losing the seasons
and the purpose in them

until my neighbor became
a rose
and i rediscovered
the labor of hope

The Question

I think I may have published this previously, but as I've now been either author or co-author of twelve blogs which float about God knows where, rather than look back, i'll post it again. What can happen? sue myself for plagiarism? Ha!







it once knew weight
flexed all gargantuan
it was Jupiter squatting on Mars
steel beams and packed mortar
of an unsinkable tower

and ancient beyond fossil
yet fresh as mothers milk
dripping the rosed nipple

it fell through the clouds
as thunder on the prairie
choking eucalyptis
and spanking
the oceans tame

it broke the back
of tyrannasauras rex
and ignited silent volcanos

weighing in on Roman councils
it mapped the wars of conquest
and bloodied the virgin sands

it did, once
and so much the more

but now, weightless it drifts
along the frozen shores
of the Milky Way
rootless and unseen
never finding fire

on moonless nights, though
it sneaks yet, dripping
from the stars
whispering along forgotten rivers
and abandoned windows

and on nights when the moon
tilts to quarter
it swifts the brazillian rainforests
meanders the stoic alps
and tempers
the Arctic wind

oceans now disregard it
and congress gavels
too busy

true poets have grown bored
and closed the book on it
and minstrels
have taken up trade

no longer can it purchase
or spend, or even
borrow, while volcanos
spit dry sarcasm

it's there, still
among the stars
and swirling
the moon's tail
as a london fog
without a light

sometimes it sleeps
the Sahara where the sands
of spent hourglasses
sink in withered shame

but remain it does
as the ghost of an energy
without a matter

if you hushed
in the dark of night
dared the alone vastness
of a vacuum sky
and listened hard
way beyond your ears
-you'd hear it still
passing over in
forever unanswer
fainter in wake
but unable to die

"Do you love me"

see,
she never replied