Here we go, happy holidays

July 4th, 1981, candles of a Roman ilk
Unloaded from a chevy truck Into the home her folks had built
Patio was charcoals and extended fam in folding chairs
Safely arced around the yard to focus on the smoking flares
Couple cousins, uncles, aunts, mostly grown-ups, couple brats
Baby Ruby’s only two She’s too close to the jumping jacks
Mommy scoops her to the house/Buckles up the booster seat
Rolls her to the storm door
Let her long for all the lunacy
Telephone distracting Mom/Ruby wriggles out her strap
Fingers push the plexi-glass/She’s off into the sour patch
Past the pyrotechnics undetected and invisible
Woke the sleeping beagle skipping toward the kidney swimming pool
Off into the yawning blue/The splash would mum the rocket-ships
Ruby’s lungs were filling by the time her kin were cognizant
Many sprung and sprinted down All arrive belated but
The beast she had earlier bestirred had been alert since waking up
Canine let his gainer fly/Water top commotion grow
Howling guests assumed the cloven hooves had come to do-si-do
Frenzied and congested deck Part to let the elders see
Soggy beagle gently dragging Ruby in his yellow teeth
Laid the tiny body in the sun before her Father‘s feet
When she choked the liquid through her bluish lips he dropped his knee
Healthy air had reconvenedTowel his shaking Ruby off
EMT confirm the save,Everybody say “Good dog!”

It was less an act of hubris
More a lonely hearts club at the helm of a magic bullet
Away on a relentless bid for rarefied inertia
Rattletrap forks married to the patchy terra firma
Ursa Minor getting warmer
I crowbar into the pecking order
The dreck between the whores and Betty Ford-ers
Hug a double yellow spine
Knobby rubber like a rat on a rope
Those little fuckers run on passion alone
This is the product of a D.I.Y. inadequate home
Grabbing a cabin in the-fuck-outta-dodge
Actin’ a savage in the shadows of Rome
Traffic amassed against insufferable odds
Fashioning gallows out of plastic and bone
I got the motordrome walls of death splintering under me
All-city galvanized bikes white knuckling
Bright light, tunnel kings tuck in the devil
P.S. I wrote this on a self destructing memo

Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts; Poolside; 0 for 1 and don’t forget spoons twice
Lukewarm folgers; mold on his moonpie
Rooms in his home that dissipate into fruit flies
Suicide lane wide load ride looting in the wake of an amicable marooning
My duty go from moving in packs to sharing food with a cat. [To Moms:] “it’s me, I accidentally sawed a woman in half.”
She said “I’ll keep you in my prayers, ” I said “I need to hide a body, ” she said “ok honey, talk to you on Friday.”
Apparently we share a common plasma so the growing disconnection doesn’t matter. according to the blood-and-water chapter. weird
Who wrote the blood-and-water chapter anyway? probably some surly dad; only child, 30 cats.
Looking for a way to reconnect with an averted past.
Except it doesn’t always work like that
Today I pulled three baby snakes out of moss and dirt; where the wild strawberry vines toss and turn;
I told them “you will grow to be something inventive and electric; you are healthy, you are special, you are present.” then I let them go


You were sitting at the gate awaiting spirits and provisions
I was privy to a headache over pirouetting innards
In the mirror sweating pictures; who’s there: simian or lizard?
As it were there is a disappearing difference
In ambition and material;
Antiquated gentleman outlaws reduced to a ferris wheel of vitriol
Move as a godless heathen; black gums, tooth gone, bootleg ‘Yukon Cornelius’
I’m a… that’s better, here we here we go. disenchanted face printed on a zero-dollar bill
Got a little plot of land where authority isn’t recognized, contraband keeping the core of his Hyde Jekyll-ized
Check! nevermind a misanthrope vying for affection to the wretched sound of mysticism dying
It is something he must handle on his own; the wind blown way, wanna win? don’t play
Today I pulled three green frogs out of leaf and bark where the grape vines climb a convenient barn;
I told them “you will grow to be something tenacious and exalted; you are mighty, you are gracious, you are lauded.” then I let them go


I have been completely unable to maintain any semblance of relationship on any level
I have been a bastard to the people who have actively attempted to deliver me from peril
I have been acutely undeserving of the ear that listen up and lip that kissed me on the temple
I have been accustomed to a stubborn disposition that admits it wish it’s history disassembled
I have been a hypocrite in sermonizing tolerance while skimming for a ministry to pretzel
I have been unfairly resentful of those I wish that acted different when the bidding was essential
I have been a terrible communicator prone to isolation over sympathy for devils
I have been my own worst enemy since the very genesis of rebels
Today I pulled three ghost crabs out of rock and sand, where the low tide showcased a promised land.
I told them “you will grow to be something dynamic and impressive; you are patient you are gallant you are festive.”
Then I let them go


(On and on and on and on…)