No Drought of Doubt/July

July 2012

Nowhere to run but down into the ground…

*

The newspapers and farm bulletins are using terms like “second Dust Bowl,” and “catastrophic drought” to describe what’s happening to Midwest farm states. –

http://www.rosebudmag.com/environment/fire-global-warming-environment-climate-change-heat-drought

*

July Fragments 2012

*

The Doubt Mower

*

I was cutting what was left of the lawn yesterday afternoon

Brown stiff lifeless stubble looking like an old drunk fell

Asleep there a month ago and died

and even the last pissing of the pants was long dried up

in a few insouciant vibrant verbal beer beard weeds.

 

And as the cars passed me in the heat and dust

I could hear them thinking

 

Look at that jerk mowing the dirt-

Bet he bought it from Al Gore…….

 

Shrugging I considered this….and thought…

 

….if I had a herd of cattle I’d feed them right out here

On what’s been left as the earth is scorched that much is true

…. then I’d turn around and sell it all back to you as global barbeque..

*

In just so much Space

 

You can move only so far

I’m told in a very small space

Most human skulls are about

Just under 2 feet by a ft & a half

Yet they contain everything single

Perception one can fathom

In a life time about the universe.

 

So that world between your ears

Can be as wide or narrow as

You make it.

 

Shrink or expand

Exclude or include.

 

But I would advise you

To take care with the dimensions

You will ultimately design in there.

 

Because that is all

You are going to take with you.

*

 

 His Yellow Tonka Truck

*

(Attributed to Matt H)

Outside of the bar that evening

After discussing guns and booze

He said….

And I just didn’t have the heart to tell him

Playing so contently in his sand box

With his Yellow Tonka truck

That someday he was going to

Have to deal with women.

*

 Remembering Herman

*

 

Herman Munster was an artist.

He loved the strange sounds of words

And how meaning could jump the tracks

From children books to surrealistic Art.

So the TV monster based upon Shelly’s nightmare

Found notoriety and fame as being the

GD nicest fiend on the block

Who like to phrase his delivery

In the cadence of his mom.

 

The Old Main Man

-For Doug Arnold

Wishes always it seems

Have to take a back seat in some cab

While blind fate rides first class

Like a holiday heart attack

That happens in front of the kids

On the Thru-way

Headed out to see the fireworks

And the numbness will continue

Till the awareness shows up.

*

Duck  Dvorak Duck !

July early evening

After a stunning Summer

gentle day with a brilliant blue

Sky without a memory of a cloud

In the world.

 

In reflection while the radio plays

Dvorak thinking over all the swings

And misses that fate has taken at you

Over the years.

 

Best take care before you

Grin and smirk…

Missed me….

 

Because

You can trust me on this one.

Something

Somewhere

Is  always just now

Winding up

with some chin music

to dust you off.

 

So it perhaps might be

A bit premature to request

Fate at the piano to play

Ellington’s

I’m just a lucky so and so.

*

Uncollected 2012

*

Does the Universe have a Sense of Humor ?

The wind is a rope of Hornets-

-Jack Tricarico

*

 Could it be we are all just a race of afflicted inbred half breeds of alien offspring bastards ?

Abandoned by celestial beings with poor impulse control and even worse parenting skills ?

 

I always get confused here with the breakdown of gender roles.

Was it the males that were the evil devils while the females angelic life producers

Or was it the other way around.

Nobody calls it the old switcheroo and more.

Somehow that lost art of Lamp Chop preparation figures in here somewhere

But I’m confused about that as well…

But I suspect that recipe relates to the rather limited menu

Of our collective short brutal existence that reality is

Strictly au jus.

 Or was that Judas a la cart……value priced at 30 pieces of Silver

(that’s about 25 bucks in today’s exchange rate)

But I do know a few things about life here on earth………like:

Bats always turn left when exiting a cave

Iguanas can and do commit suicide.

85 % of all life on this planet is plankton

While the snails reproductive organ is located in its head.

And if you want a toupee for your dog ?

You have to go to Tokyo and you’ll have to call for prices..

Latest quote is 1,999.79 Yen.

Meanwhile back in the states

History records that briefly during the American Revolution

There was a 3 dollar bill with the motto

 Exitus in Dubio

Which translated means…

The outcome is in doubt.

 

Uncollected                   6/2012

*

It’s Kidde Pool Time

 

(to be sung to the tune of Tra-La-de-Boom-De-A)

 

It’s plastic 3 ring Kiddie pool time

It’s plastic 3 ring Kiddie pool time

All you need to do

Is bring your sweaty behind

Because it’s plastic 3 ring Kiddie pool time

 

And sure there’s plenty of room

In this little pool

Forget all the doom and gloom

Don’t be a miserable pissed off fool

Just take em off

And

Splash with me in this little pool.

 

It’s all so very fine

When it’s plastic 3 ring Kiddie pool time

We can even drink cold beer

Just you and me sitting right here

 

 So let all the traffic pass

Fuck all their swampy ass.

They all smell anyway

And are out of gas.

 

It’s 3 ring plastic Kiddie pool time

It’s 3 ring plastic Kiddie pool time

It’s all so very, very fine

When it’s 3 ring plastic Kiddie pool time

 

                             From Sometime Grief           7/2011

*

July Abstraction

*

 

Muted phone ringing from the shower nozzle

announcing her flat tire in the Doctor’s Office

for a routine visit parking lot ordeal.

I was all wet and

failed to hear the distress beacon.

Meanwhile her Daughter struggled

with an important message and remember

her mother’s name.

I was never informed.

I was only taking orders.

Releasing the proper identification code

Triple A was dispatched and was in route.

When I arrived at work

Mental health was waiting

with a videographer who wanted me

to talk off the top of my head about

involvement in the arts being a bridge

between sanity and the local homeless

populations struggle for employment,

rural reality with an urban contextual equilibrium

and intellectual/spiritual community based identity

supported in a half-way house residential setting.

After the camera stopped rolling

he pulled me aside

reassuring me that the independent film

project was still a go, my role in it assured

and no it wasn’t my fault the

leading man had gone insane last Fall.

 

The balance of the rest of the work day

operated within normal parameters.

The general population of the incarcerated

wanted no part of my services. Multiple refusals.

Only Mr. Clutter elected to be escorted by the guard

from Pod B to my basement facility to continue work

pursuing his goal of obtaining GED and compose poetry.

 

Driving back home in the late July

sunshine I experienced a rather unsettling

vague sixty mile an hour accelerated confinement

and isolation from everything Summer was

except through the concurrent

concrete ribbon sentence appearing

in my windshield like asphalt cell bars.

 

Mid afternoon I went to the bank

withdrew a large sum of money.

Seven new crisp one hundred dollar bills,

with enhanced security threads

and holograms to discourage forgery and a loan

dirty, limp, crinkled, worn, tired gray lettuce

tinted fifty with Ulysses S Grant scowling.

I immediately turned over this amount

representing half of the nearly bankrupt nation’s

economic stimulus stipend to all citizens

to my daughter’s mother in hopes the disappointment

of the mornings amnesia would be forgotten.

 

She took the money out of my hand.

Remarked she needed new tires for her car.

 

The phone was ranging again.

This time it was dry.

I hear it distinctly

I was at the sink practicing

my best Prufrock imitation

carefully counting spoonfuls

while making coffee.

 

It was him.

The son of a great brilliant Jazz musician

presently composing infinity.

 

I had listened to his old man’s music my entire adult life.

 

His son wanted to talk.

I was glad to hear from him.

It had been a long time.

However he was in an extremely agitated mood

His voice exploded in the phone.

 

Didn’t I know about the fuel cells that were methane based, people building cars with toilet bowls in the driver’s seat, Hydrogen on demand, the mutant killer seaweed of doom that was choking the oceans, the hand sake between Prescott Bush and Hitler and J. Edgar Hoover’s head mounted on a turtle’s shell draped with a pink lace pinafore ?

The government’s new Active Denial System Ray Gun,(Actually I did know about that one, the only problem was you had to catch your enemies in tin foil hats), what about his abacus beaded with skulls ?

 

Had I seen Raw Man around anywhere lately ?

What about Columbus signing off on a deal with Spain to buy all the souls in the new world before we even got here, that all our hearts need to beat with a hedgehog’s intensity to increase the amount of compassion in the world, we had the memory span of goldfish, we better start learning to float in our imaginations like porcupines, stop breaking all the octopuses’ hearts while remembering that ants don’t sleep. Armadillos can house broken. It just takes time and patience. As the icebergs are melting, they are making a fizzing sound. Betsy Ross was born with a full set of teeth.

 

I was lost. Grappling with the meaning of it all. It was no use. And then he said….

 

And of course….What about all the Blue-eyed Macaroni !?!

 

And last. I understood and calmly replied….O….now your talking the Four Horseman of the Semolina.   

 

Finally we had found common ground. The conversation ended on a positive and friendly note with his request I contribute an essay to a new project of his addressing a post-modern socio-political perspective comparing the Chicago based artist Dwight Kalb who had created a statue on Madonna out of 180 pounds of ham and the Greek Painter Zeuxis from the 5th century who it is alleged literally laughed himself to death.

 

It was approaching supper time.

Ill relevant to me as I was fasting that day.

Went to the Supper Market in observance.

Had my favorite Cashier de jour scan my bag of ice

while discussing people who peeled their bananas

to eat stark naked discarding nature’s perfectly designed napkin.

She referred to me as dear, handed me my change.

 

Before I went back to work

I stopped in at the house

to find her car parked in the driveway

with three new tires and one worn defective

thread bare one that had been left on for

sentimental reasons…..

 

I went up to the University

to finally work with an electronic device

that could keep up with me.

I reproduced hundreds of copies

of lessons needed to start the semester

the following month.

The place was deserted.

 

I was the only one working this time of year

at this time of night.

Completing my task

I discarded everything in the recycle bin.

After all I had done all this before

and if I was lucky

would be able to again.

What better way to insure the possibility?

 

Now the sun was really setting on this July Abstraction

in great sideway shafts of yellow light.

I found myself with great thirst.

Drove straight down to the Dive.

Discussed baseball with the bartender.

We agreed in principle that 3.25 million

dollars was reasonable for a middle aged

middle infielder batting somewhere in the mid 250s.

 

I produced my notebook.

Two young tough looking barflies

started complaining about their warm beer to the bartender.

I took note of this.

One of the guys glanced over in my direction

And sneered, “ And just what in hell are you writing ?….”

 

I glared back at him over my sunglasses and with a bright menacing grin retorted…

 

“My Doctor thinks it’s a good Idea if I write…”

 

They tipped and left.

 

Just then a trio of young Harlots saunter in the bar expressly ignoring me as I wrote

as the old man I had become which might have been true enough

but I sat there ablaze in the sunset glare from the windows resplendent in

the glow of a July abstraction diminishing me however, but now I could clearly hear

the orange and red disappearing ball of molten flame ringing in my name.

 

 

-From The Terrible Now       August 08

 

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