Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Train car trekker hoboing to Hoboken
Dodging dustbowl dustbins
Getting out of Dodge with weathered boots
Torn coat, torn emotions
Escaping the derelict of duty deputies and boss yard batters,
Dented pocket watch outwitting
Lefse eating pickpockets
Pickpocketing under the radar, under the stars, over the top
Scoped out with dragon breath, dragging his butt
Out of breath
With any guise that keeps away the guys
In the iron clad carts caging coal chips,
Chips on his shoulder, chip on his lip
In the small comfort of the cattle carrier
In the warm straw and dung on the B & O (bed and odor)
Fighting off the battalions of losses and rotting livers
Among the rotting livery
Shattered mirror of a broken spirit, broken bones
Falling off the car
Dancing to that miracle song on the tracks
Under the tracks
Under the radar, under the starsTo that new beginning on the other side of the tracks
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Bumper crop of zydeco roosters
Peddling their herbs and whey
Way back, wayward, looking for a way out
Arm wrestling for that dish of dried corn at the counter
Hen pecked, hand picked
Huskers and hucksters
Husky, well-bred do-rag bearing baron
Of that sordid, sleek smiling way
Smooth hair, smooth face, smooth talking,
Sweetheart of a cocky crow
Crooning that sweet Cajun ballad
Under the blue moon
Swinging between babes bouncing on your knee,
Bouncing checks, bouncing bouncers
Bouncing back from the fray
Be-bopping with the slug in the jukebox grin
Picking ice gators out of his teeth with a blade of swamp grass,
Boasting butter and crawdads
With a swig of turnip juice
All tuned up, nose turned up
Nobody turns up
Except those flashing lights looking for that flashing smile
Flashing something like a bracelet in the brake lights
As he doo doodles and pays his fare all the way.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
This system is established to maintain literary diversity
in the event of a public literary emergency.
Had this been an actual emergency
this message would contain directions
to where diverse literary materials could be found
and information on how long the state of emergency might last.
Copies of Naked Lunch and the Subterraneans
will be air-dropped to isolated communities if needed.
If an actual emergency should arise,
please maintain calm and stay in the appointed
literary shelters until the "all clear" sounds.
This has been a test of the emergency literary system.
This is only a test.
Monday, February 20, 2012
The birch bark canoes and canvas sail tents
Are docked for truth
Water your horses, water down deals
Gnats and mosquitos pestering and sucking blood while
Patience runs dry and you do unto others…
Flowery words, flowery fields
Prairies of deception
Rattling beads, rattling nerves
Draw your sketches, draw conclusions
Speak up! Speak your mind without acting like a fool
For all who do not agree with us are fools, right?
Offerings are left as bait for the rushing river
Bait for a signature, rushing for a contract.
Weave blankets, weave tales, weave smiles and condescension as
Drums beat, eardrums explode from silence.
The eagle cries
As a sacred feather falls to earth.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
You slimy ol’ scoundrel!
Keep comin’ after me
I dare ya! I double dare ya!
You sleazy ol’ geezer
Tryin’ to rope and outwit me
And my buddies
You got a few of ‘em and
I’m still mad as hell and there ain’t no forgivin’
I’m gonna kick your teeth in and give your arse some scars
You relentless sucker!
I hate your pigeon liver guts
And yer billy goat tenacity
(Learned me that word from a preacher in a camp once)
Keep comin’ after me like them spikes in a gear
Back to back pot shots
Missed again! Ha!
You squirrely varmint
Y’almost got me this time!
I reckon you’ll catch up with me one day
Until then, piss on you…Death!