if i wore boots with spurs

17 Jul

that wild outpost open to the public last frontier we call
the laundry mat,
where colors spin in opera windows,
space ship windows and
people sit in lawn chair leisure,
with problems behind their own opera window eyes
in these the last days
before limbs and minds become like teeth,
removed and soaked in sauce,
disappearing into sterile perfection,
our minds and hearts still behave like western saloon doors,
shutters fluttering and open
horror movie wind,
but barged through anyway,
people pining
coins in the slot,
shall we play?

on becoming a rabbit again

13 Jul

i confessed to the wind and received 43 lashings to my back or some such equivalent.
i had gotten greedy.
i had failed to focus on the mundane moment and missed the miracle of a can opener.

that 12 oz can of diced tomatoes slipped snug under a clip and fastened to the machine.
oh, the way it spun around like a kid on a carousel ride.
oh, the the way it opened up in the process and started to smell so spicy and tasty.

yes, i was too busy worrying about my own life.
thank you wind for my fingers not being cut.
my ears up now.
 

long hair hallucinatory fun

12 Jul

he would sometimes sit and stare at what some people thought was nothing.
others insisted he was waiting for a train, but not to hop on,
to hear its monster roar instead and
to let his hair be a spider learning to fly.

the snake head and its long tail were soon no longer there and
the air went still and so
he knew it wasn’t really wind.

he walked to a town and stared at
maple leaves attached to the side of a red brick building.
he stared until the leaves began to wave in unison.
they exposed their under leaf bellies – a veiny nuclear ash dullness.

he could see bat wings and rabbit fur out of his left eye corner.
it was his hair morphing into shape.
that’s when he knew it was the wind.
he walked on with this new greeting.

can you keep a secret?

4 Jul

when a dog sees a fellow dog on a screen,
it tends to go sniff or lick that screen and
when that dog realizes that the screen is not real
it steps down and looks elsewhere.
i hope scientists, engineers, and computer programmers don’t know this
shhhhhhh
because
if they do,
they might be designing tv’s that give off smells at this very moment
or maybe they already willy wonka have?
i bet dogs real soon will have their own smart phones
so they don’t get bored when their owners take them for walks.
i’m not very politically active,
but i like dogs so on behalf of them,
i hope they never get their own doggie smart phones
because i would think there’s nothing better than real piss beside a fire hydrant.
that’s the thing i don’t like about national geographic tv specials.
it’s like porn.
it’s better than reality.

whisky with a tree

3 Jul

sometimes my feet behave like a whirlpool drain.
sucking me into the future
when home is everywhere now
if i would only tighten a few screws or loosen them?
my damn head,
but then i do it or the wind does?
something pulls my inner crank,

slows my phonograph mind from 78 to 33 or even slower.
my spaze turns to hum
i lean against a tree,
slide down its barky side slowly,
all the way to the ground
sigh.
the ants are quickly up my pant legs!
or i’m probably panicking things?
i reach for my flask.
take a nice sip gulp
the climate changes or my climate changes,
tundra to tropic
i watch a lady strut her new dress,
a wind slip exposes her legs look great,
the tree roots roll across the green earth look great too
whistles in the trees,
screams of children playing under sprinkler toys
a dark blanket will soon cover the sky and
different kinds of screams will fill the world.
i’ll be eating soup or hopefully sleeping like a log.

 

tobacco friends

2 Jul

it was between the chemicals and preservatives,
in the old part of regina by the bus station where we met,
collecting used cigarettes together.
we passed the time.
they dotted the cement and were suddenly everywhere.
we noticed them like shooting stars taking a break on infinite half tobacco earth.
it was like the sky and earth had switched places.
we were happy.
we walked and wondered about people on work breaks and
their half cigs on the other side of town,
stuffed in those ashtrays attached to big buildings in small metal buckets of sand.
we wondered how much never before used tobacco we might see together.

 

an abandoned control tower

1 Jul

it was like any other empty place.
the window was open and wind made its way in,
whistling.
a crumpled up newspaper page in the corner.
lots of dust,
maybe asbestos leaking from the wall?
more whistles.
the rest was ghosts and
to think this place used to sizzle with so much paranoia and perception,
almost soothsaying, definitely clairvoyance.
they knew the strangest details about each other.
one of them knew that the other had bought an avocado that day
and the other in turn knew that the one was reading magazines on a porch.
it was bizarre and impossible because they lived 1,000 miles apart,
with all those mountains and rivers between them
and yet they knew.
but now this empty tower
gutted of its hot coils,
only
two wires jetting from the wall,
their ends burnt and no longer entangled.

i wonder when the leaves will make it through the window,
all dried out and turned to grape nuts flakes,
eaten by the wind.

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