October 3, 2010

Summertime Blues

Whee haw! The new Blogger editor will allow the typographic stunts in my poems! Below are some more poems from the summer we just closed out.


your trumpet loop refuses to fade
an annoying bit of immortality
twisting lopsided
into the dark beyond the window -

one hears of tropical violence
violence in shimmering white concrete jungles
or on the banks of brackish creeks
  run low and dry
machetes hacking limbs
nines & AKs hosing down old storefronts
shotguns and shovels
loamy soil back in the pines -

the trumpet clicks on in the dark
the projector's broken
the film's skipping it's sprockets

          - but the present will not be
by a broken trumpet
and misaligned shards of memory


"old rust" breathes cold with
   a shudder and a roar
mariachi & electrical pop

it's a rockabilly night
a knife blade
shakin' down
horns & yodels at cross purpose
          define the dark
                    other side of streaked glass
           air conditioned night,
        mare -

sure, it's a retreat
sometimes you gotta cocoon
         without expecting to turn
you live
to another brown day

a blade rattles against the neck
steel drift fade out vaporizes


this summer's been tuned to E
but played slow, broken, & incomplete
verses can't latch onto choruses
choruses drift off into nothing
   split through with
   metallic tastes and cramped styles

broken, sprung
wrong in ways definite & imprecise both
just wrong -

a dream of gray-green fever
which burns, leaden,
but doesn't consume
& all the air conditioners
rusty and toiling
won't take the edge off this
broken tango
this three part invention in E
which never lives, never blooms into its nature
but will not quit


it's good to get out of the heat
cold windy sun
clouds sprint by the opposite bank
as clear, clearer than day

giants walk the earth
clouds the beards of
         weather systems
things larger than
   specks human
   politics forgotten
a weather system wipes you out
brushes you off the globe
you may care, like the spider crushed cares

hunker down, sun's down now
water foam waves
branches spearing leaves white against the wind
tucked down just out of the wind
close, but safe


hello, then!
the grass grows thinner, browns out
sandy, sandy pine
gone white
clarity in the air

who knows
what runs in the clear pines
"Take to the mountains," he said,
"if the government is a problem.
Make them come get you
& then shoot down on them
from high rocks."
          not the same, perhaps
but mixed oak, maple, birch
provide cover

white nation, white nation
curtain drawn, it's here
it's down the street
"no one gets my gun"


hey peacekeeper!
what'cha packin'?
           Ford F-250!
           big-ass knobby tires!
keeping America
for bumper stickers and petulance

behind every bush these days
"it's not you, it's
          the bosses"
but at what point
is imperialism? at what point
blood sacrifice
to a V-8
and the right to
live life unexamined

semper fi,
blade of capital -
when do you take the blame?

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