The Burnt Man and Me Study in Blindness
Dirty askew Cap in the shade
I used to be him Under a Bridge
Sun-burnt shining Block of red-gold
American Icon Tractor spinning by
Pulling a Mower Rake and Bailer Hay one month a year
Hey! I say I used to be him
Blister bubble back Pop Tart breakfast
Motor home overnight I used to be him
Cock-a-doodle-doo In the city
You called me from the day To the entrance to the night
Your sweet sweet voice Lured me away
Astray from I used to be him Goddamn charred-up
He's a God in his own right Burnt-down rascal
Refrigerator heart beam Out of the soul
Me and Him both Drink ice cold beer
Me under soft skin Sitting sound-proofed
Him up at dawn Scraping his palms
Hi-day hay! Hi-day ho! I'm stuck on a bridge
He's under the sun I drive through the night
He's all day long Stepping on dirt
"How come you know him Little city-slicker?"
I saw him yesterday Red-plated gold
Feeding on the eddy Cap askew head
He's got a spinning rod I wished I'd had one
He was my uncle My grand-dad and aunt
My Tupperware supper Great-grandmother too
My jadeite dream I saw him at a fish fry
Two hours away It was too damn hot
Hand worn face-wrinkle He's older than me
I used to be him Before I had to dream
You called me through the night To the entrance to the city
We went for a soft drink He showers with his beer
He showers then to bed I drive through the night fog
I lost you in the light-tent I searched the broken streets
I lost you in the night-tent I used to be him
He's blinded by the sun I wish I were burnt
He's blinded but perfect I've lost track of you
Ancient! Ancient! Red never slathered
Trout in the water Man in the field
I've blinded you And you've blinded me
We're blind hallelujahs I used to be him
And the baseball cap and the cooler I used to be
And the sun burn on the outside We're all staring baby
No one's blinded right No one yet at least
No one's blinded right At the entrance to night
360 Degrees in the Tradition of Sense
Kicking Horse couldn't
Goad the bull forward,
Couldn't arrest glossolalia.
A long winded heat stroke,
I know it in my future, it is
In the desert.
There, I will forget
The circles and walk
Never getting anywhere
While others blow dust;
When I find a tent
It will offer no shade
My tongue will become inflamed
I will have difficulty
Communicating.
Snow sometimes falls
In the desert.
Can I speak like the cactus,
A succulent deserter
From humanity?
The breakdown of time-quantities
Is subsumed
By a gradual becoming of space.
My chicken-wire fence
Is not approved
For high voltage activities.
This reflection might
Ignite a leaf,
The horses might spit salt
In my eyes, it would sting.
First, I have to dry my ears
And press them
Between sand etchings
And oil paintings,
Then I will lick the post.
Alaska Volt
Shadow living world history
Solitaire hot springs
Cowboy crossing dimed fences unexplained
Phenomena manifesto 101
Buddhism Buddha
Descent to the initiation prostitute
Egyptian goddess before Pharos book
Masculinities & methods & inequalities
Social race women behavior theory
Epicure Amish fix-it and forget-it wok cooking
China art Creeley dolls
Elementary shamans
Christmas concise Bristol
Spode, Sheffield, Cartoons
William short Klimt
Cock tropic incest salamander
End handbook
Pillars helter skelter chilling plays geteilt
Balladen Daten Dichtung
Warum Gedichte Raeuber gift
Early myths
Chocolate lyric climate
Sounds eleven eyes three lives
Beloved Gatsby agreements
Autobiography soul illness
Discipline
Interpretation ecology illuminations
Reflections loving
Philosophy, writing and difference
Blendung Stimmen Provence Power
Archaic agents dust clinical America
Unified field theory perfume
Woodpecker
Another portrait hours on
The according to stories
Botany raising Gedichtbuch millennium
For the dreams American
The best rush anthology favorite
Laura torn final mirror
Selected complete myself
Angel glass
Ariel Thomas
Measures guide praise
Under existence death Cascadia
Loose muse sleeping break-heart cantos
Tea spin fetters
Cusps figured in 1995
Ejo - Birdsong - Chalice - Volt - Alaska