It is time to remember vacated days and towns
With the air of antiquity that has been
Irreparably damaged by passing geese.
We hate the sound of their wings.
We live forgotten by outer darkness,
Transfixed in a few shrunken psyches,
Desultorily divine. Our water is too old to drink.



17 thoughts on “passing

    you were on a bus leaving Indianapolis
    ashamed to read poetry in public
    you were scrunched up next to the window
    the book wasn’t visible
    so other passengers
    thought you were up
    to something odd
    by the look of your jacket
    you might have come
    from an orphanage
    ———poetry about you acting squirrely
    reading uncensored Robert Frost
    how winter made the trees whiners
    without leaves the trees became undistinguished


    • The real fun begins when you suddenly realize
      That Indianapolis is just the name of you neighbor’s mutt
      You try to read your poems to the prairie dogs
      But they only laugh at you and each bus you see
      Is ready to give birth to an intelligent stinking puddle of hooch:
      Are you brave enough to drink it up?


  2. when asked what one
    stores tangerine-colored hooch in
    you replied, “you just swallow it”
    wet kisses from the alcohol god
    you made light of Indianapolis
    but the city was your “Goebbels”


        • If you really have a million questions
          Then you shouldn’t bother answering any of them
          So relax, have a cup of tea, then a bottle of rum with a cigar,
          Then talk to your goebbels about ufos, voodooists,
          Abominable snowwomen and other pleasant stuff


            the concomitants of failure ?
            all those people in the rearview mirror
            exposed to poverty
            waving furiously to get your attention
            hoping you’ll recognize their need


            • somehow I know that you, baby bird
              contribute to the equilibrium of the organism
              ( that you sell DVDs on how to stay in a known
              and trusted pattern when the rest of the world
              seems bent on being “off-kilter” )
              just as other people have put a halt to dragons
              you have slayed so many insubstantial dreams


            • yeah one of them just reached me yesterday
              and said that he needed a novel of benno von archimboldi
              i directed him to the library and he asked me to drive him there
              i replied that i had a headache and nausea and he left
              if i fulfilled the need of everyone looking for my attention
              then you wouldn’t have a story about jesus nor any other god you can pray to
              you would have only me, a boring scumbag without any mythology attached


              • words like immature fruit
                preoccupied with self-conscious analysis
                half the world saw your earlier writings
                that sling-blade crap
                about triumph over sin
                that sling-blade crap
                whitewashed by sour scholars
                serious aberrancies
                flowering sodomy
                ****Adele was singing, “this is the end”
                I could smell her through the WIFI
                a thin discharge—white lace mucus


                    • ON THE BRINK OF A GREASY FORK
                      talk about a painful situation
                      can a ghost with artistic sensibility
                      turn the situation into “art” ?
                      too much soft music
                      and rainbow colors for me
                      I like the smell of a barn
                      and the backside of the moon
                      ****perfect companions: cigarettes and handguns


                    • Wastebaskets and dumpsters are brimming with artistic sensibilities and rainbow colors and soft music
                      And the smells of a barn and the shit of a horse and the moon
                      Just sift through them and you will get whatever you want


  3. I was just thinking about
    when you got your first set
    of small screwdrivers
    and all the things
    you were taking apart
    remember the galvanized bucket
    you carried everywhere ?
    a set of miniature screwdrivers
    and a bucket to stand on
    —-a man could conquer the world

    Liked by 1 person

  4. unavoidable doom
    it is today or tomorrow
    chivalric tournaments times three
    the poet and his weapon
    shifting points of view
    young and tight
    the moist Butter Duck
    kaleidoscopic semen
    colorful jism like frosting


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