Three Poems

The Road to Melville

Now   are these bogus holes? what are those big brown bulbs doing? subdominance is a habit by brash fiat we’re taking our lumps   headlamps leading is anybody suffering?   gatefold time home chimes   the inner core of Garfield give me crawlspace   the one that iced the marbles Reddy Kilowatt got me but this isn’t exactly waltzing weather   tasers on point stand by for a perfect ugliness   sorry about what?   subject the tango to rogue forces vanilla fuel rods   got any extras?   add Prestone then haul ugh   hire robots to taste take a breath of fresh ghost   no hands a perfect cancellation   give it a couple seconds they call this water-board technique get ready to pull deck duty worst conditions did you see all those tongues?   popped up so quick then stopped as if you don’t want to end up your life as the motion guard on Jettison Island watching whatever’s left turn tail                                                                            19I05 Playing the Combinations My name was Sinatra till I heard the music the horizon just above Bull Run didn’t make the cut and I miss it all touched with Trocadero tints loose as a youth I peeked but hardly heard the shadows didn’t catch them at all the auto was so far off   nobody a puff   just one   nearly lost the handle Carlsbad on the paper collar just bit and turned and never lasted much beyond the first lightbulb   a low candlepower the breath out of your sails   pottery fence calling all lookers   snakes and snails how could you tell?   it’s no cigar waiting around the pool with density meters time to wrap up I guess   a resin sold as separate guitars   plates obscured partially missing the mornings passing streets low in mica just whistle off some steam and brace yourself                                                                            29I05 Then a Horn Was Heard Anyway it was heartfelt the violence of those voices the variable retrievers in their boxes elephants in rhinestones with ankle chimes we’ll be done by dawn   a quartet of waters with roses hatching   no more binding the best openings start up above a slipping beyond all count at famous angles the faucet to turn to?   a delicate lashing you don’t say   it will not do we were hurried perhaps that’s what but would you like something to think? you’ll anyhow enjoy the steam at the summit it brings on many changes and you must grip fast before you can grasp anything at all of what is to be   stamp stamp absolute craze making noise and with extensions all of them downhill with socket wrench cotton stocks and barrels of tusks a rash adoption of the morning line                                                                            14I05

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