Friends,
You are good. I am too. We’re glad there’s no hurricane this weekend, like there was last year.
Here are your Vogon poems from August. If they seem a little atonal or apathetic it’s because I think July depleted my creative resources ( I know it did)
As you know I’m reading The Exegesis of Philip K Dick right now. And as you also know, Vogon poetry is unedited stream-of-conscious rambling that sometimes turns out to be truth on a global/local/or microcosmic level. Lately my Vogon poems haven’t hit on (m)any global targets, but I swear I’ve been writing stuff that I end up reading a few days later in The Exegesis. It’s blowing my mind, and also making me feel like a data spewing cyborg (see Vogon poem below)
The big ART BINGE of the summer didn’t amount to much. Not only was I in no frame of mind to concentrate on art, but we were very busy and also a little bit sick (w/ the red tide & all) so…excuses, excuses…this is all the art you get for awhile…sorry …(laughter emoji)…or I guess I could just say LOL…
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The Future Sound of Carbon
You sit like a fungus
Slumped in your heart-heavy cell
A backless gown confessing your cleave from senses
You’re a garden left untended
Over your fear of combustible engines…
You weren’t born in the wrong body
You were born w/ the wrong constitution
Solitary mushroom, circled by star-powered daisies
Cold feet rooted, arms ablaze
A hug from your brother
Brings memories
Ricocheting from rib to rib
The primal sound of carbon atoms
Crying
0809:0475a
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1000 Piece Puzzle
1000 puzzle pieces
All cool grey #4
You’d rather play dominoes
Or even a classic video game
But they offer you only
The grey puzzle
To keep your devil hands busy
To remove you from yourself
A jumpsuit slumped
While its skeleton takes a shower
How many other inmates
Pinned the blooms of their eyes on your nakedness
Using a cactus’ spine
Bury yourself in scraps of your own white meat
Your hands are pork rinds
Curled around the soap
Your mother was no Mrs. Beasley, she was a
Half-baked nova, her hugs from a toy oven
But god you miss her! When they offered you
the Fisher-Price funeral,
the Barbie doll prayers
You mounted your Tonka tractor & mowed them down
0809:0500a
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You were a hex of
Crossed wires
Introversion means wearing
Day-glo marrow
Under hushed neutral bones
After upholding the walls
Of your towering voice as long
As you could
It was finally sacrificed from a radio
Chanting on an ancient dashboard
You sprung from a jungle warzone’s loins
I can’t say the name of the song
That underscored your carbon cries
Something about beatniks & witches
getting rich
0809:0525a
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| BUN SKULLS |
Phobic introverse
Your news breaks w/ its incriminating beak
Your friends all struck
By syringitis
Cops issuing noise warnings to birds
Testosterone intuition re: the grey puzzle
It’s a mercenary heart
Blighted strawberry farm
Bit by oil drillin’ jackdaws
No picture emerging from the
Abstract brushstrokes
Wetting this hypothetical
anti-Euclidean
blandscape
But here are some words…
0809:0550a
********
You failed to mention minor Major Tom
(Nope. Aviation &
mass shootings are censored
from the tip of my pen…) Is that the son of god
Fighting fires in open-toed shoes?
We’’ll report him to OSHA & it’ll be Halloween night
(Martians landing) all over!
Rapture in open-back gowns
To bible-approved safe spaces
Make room for me on your arc, motherfuckers!
And I’ll make room in the hospice of my heart for you
As the white curtains burn—
There’s widespread silence
On matters
That once set our tongues on fire —
God has always loved me best
0813:0375a
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SEPTIC FEMININITY
Where purity is expected
We find sticky assemblage
We find rutting werewolves
in loosened frockage
Where I expect a fluffy mother lamb
You lambaste me
W/ canine teeth punctuating
Each curated bark of wise-acreage
Your handsomest philosophers
Chained to speed dial
Arf arf, you say androgynously
Equally
In touch w/ your canine/leonine
Lineage
Androgyny always brought to mind Max
& his warped ’09 arcage
But lately my mind is on Ivan
outed in the shower by curious Kit
just out of Carthage
His array of prosthetics —
displayed like toy guns —lured her
in a cowboy/Indian
feral/domestical
maximum/Ivanov
kittage/cattage
wag-the-doggage
black-guy-plays-white-spy &
right-bulb loses wattage way
0813:0400a
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Seriously though...
You remind me of Ivan
Such a teeny-weeny arc
But academy award-worthy
For all its brevity,
Like our brevity it gave forever
0813:0400a
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A drug-fueled fantasy on every channel
Our Alice has russianized (russified?)
Into Alexei
Through a looking glass so travelled
It whacked her long blond hair
At its serrated checkpoints
A smart refugee crop
Helps her blend w/ the genpop
Until, skittish unicorn, she pierces the veil
In a frantic attempt
To remain mysterious
She doffs her tricorn hat
Rabbits appear out of nowhere
Multiplying
The immaculate square
Root of power
From precious to pestilent
In a triad of moons
Where’s the flying lion
To save us all?
To the back of the closet we go…
0813:0400a
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| Bunheads |
So far we’ve gone canine lupine lapine feline
Avoided ovine like a live vaccine
Past a mass grave of crazed humine
A society that pointed needles to protect itself
The patients who once crowed
In big black syllables
Struck by necrotizing fasciitis
Of the corvine syrinx
(in this mess of a nest; your poems have completely forgotten
the Cablekraut Subject-Verb Agreement)
0813:0420a
********
I can’t read you
W/ my dead dolphin eyes
You fell off my sonar & tasted
Like tuna,
Unashamed
I can’t read your body language
As you’re falling off your bike
Throwing your guilt under the chassis
Your wrists break like twigs
You smelled like a baby bird
Sliding off uterine frying pan walls
onto the asphalt
0814:0300a
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“CULLERING”
You were a latchkey miracle
(aka monster)
Coming home w/ your 5 dirty senses
& your 6th separate sense
Hardened, petrified
Would it know all about its classmates...
oh please don’t say it on the 2nd day of school
What would silence you?
Dry erase tongue?
Wine colored walls?
Squirting pistols behind the banyan trees?
Childhood was too loud for you
Cover your ears & scream for the next
Half cent
0814:0325a
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MERCERISM
We dropped the reins
Not the unbroken mustang on the plain
But a service mule arthritic from
Heavy-kneed atonement
We cry at the sea turtle’s necropsy
But don’t mourn the jellyfish, who looks
Like a plastic bag anyway…
A newspaper
Used to live at the foot of my driveway
Wearing jellyfish fur
I would read it offline, and
Never end up down the rabbit hole
0814:0325a
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Ivan & Alexei
Sittin’ in a tree
S-M-O-K-I-N-G
How am I indicted when I’m
Out of my mind
How I am guilty of being
Brainless faberge egg, how go from
Uterine inmate to prison shower selfie?
God Smack America
I don’t want to hear the rest of your confession
I toast the flames
Leaving the charred image of Taylor Swift
on my cup (did I expect
Pink Floyd?)
[august vogon extra gibberishy. But those are the ones that mean something later on]
0814:0350a
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Our hair’s falling out
Like the pages of this dimestore journal
A graceful fall—
leaf spasms on final
hits of oxygen, one valiant synapse
in our brain — a strand of cobweb tousling w/
the ghost of a cicada — managing our
library of thoughts
Pages like skin cells biopsied from their books
turn up malignant
Teeth collected by pliers & placed
Under pillows…psycho unfairy trade
(I have nothing left to give!)
Where are the pages off to?
Are they the privileged offspring
of textbooks?
Are they the Dox Sinistra
of masonry
Typed by a freckle-fingered hillbilly
w/ the deepest voice on register?
They wear the elegant fonts
of a subpoena,
they enjoy the fancy formatting
of reality(news)
that’s stranger than fiction (Earthwind&firegate)
(Please paginate all the -gates and leave them
on my desk by this date ________)
Pages…words
Page of swords….princess in the streets
A rhino in the sheets
0823:0450a
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As of today
Our chakras are outlined in chalk
At this moment
We enter the spiritual morgue
Your love bubble
Dances like blood on your fingertip
A nurse appears
Around the bubble &
Asks you to pee in a cup
(though it’s not a question)
Once, not long ago,
You were capable of hoarding
Miracles in your pelvic carry-on
Now open the bilge
The cup is clear, plastic
Your piss an immaculate alchemy
Of opium & fear
Instead of miracles
They utter the syllables
krim
annul
0823:0475a
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Tell me about this rhino horn
Tearing at the veil
Are we sure it’s not a
Bullhorn,
a staghorn
a flugelhorn
a triceratops
an omicron
a bugle
an optagon
a pitch pipe
a singular bird beak
or any other machete-like hacking device?
Your dossier-flowers’
Most sensitive tissues depicted
Ekphrastic diagram,
including wasp corpse
Where there’s still
no electricity
A sunbeam
and the mouth of a cave
Kiss and turn
To gold
0823:0500a
**********
Summer has pounded my brain into
shapeless clay & said Start Over
Original sculpt
By famous robot &
predator drone
Hands in many gardens
Pulling petals gently
(then not so gently)
Anxious
to get to the
Antherium — the glorious
stripper pole of the bees!
0823:0525a
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| The Edge Lords (aka Singlewoody) |
The policy was open door
So there were no knuckles or
Knobs before the ballistic entry
Born of office gossip
Born of mimeograph
Born of colorless carbon copies
This is a wasteland teeming
With babys
(sic)
What can’t be said will be
Repeated
What can’t be repeated will be
Xeroxed by feline assistants
Sexetaries. (Ah, yes Norm, life’s
a hell of a lot better w/ sexetaries. Too bad
they can hear & type & remember)
I’m talking bullet points (yeah, Jimmy,
and we just embalmed one beautiful kid
whose friend shot him in the head
on New Year’s Eve)
I’m talking breakfast food stuck
To my tiptoe-ing wingtips
Copycat Killah (Seminole Heights?)
Repeater, but not here in Whitfield Estates
One neighborhood over, Bayshore Gardens
Hey get that gun off my page!
Go be a bird somewhere else
Quit making a feline beeline
for my every whereabout
0824:0300a
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Dolphin skull
Nose cone eaten like ice cream by time
(which is fat, not linear)
I used to have an audience in my skull
But it’s extroverted (egressed)
through the vomitorium
(orally)
To swim w/ the sea turtles (illegally)
& let the salmon* enchant again
*pronounce that ‘L’
L Dopa fix me arright… what is it with L?
It’s like V doesn’t e’en exist…
0824:0325a
********
Movies need watchers
I don’t mean the audience
I mean the voyeur w/in the story
The ugly duck. The nice guy who’s
Way creepier than we first suspected
The surround sound didn’t get enough love from its mother
Doctors can’t turn images into sound
Though they’ve been snipping sound into vision for eons
(since before doctors e’en existed) Pre-hDs if I may jest
In the midst of my own Vogon flow
Doctors were born of the horror genre
Grave diggers, mummifiers
Insurance corpses’ artisan decomp
quenched curiosity that became cure
Scrubbing human touches out of bedside manner
Nighttime soap opera bubbles
Drift detergently toward China
Movies need stuntmen like you
Leeching poisonous dust as you
Plummet the ninety stories
Superlung!…annnnnnd CUT
0824:0800p
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1th Upon a Time
Ambushed by ambience,
hugged by ghosts imitating unmarked cars
(when they see you first!)
Their thoughts come waddling out
Of their mouths like penguins across the tundra
Everything in my head now is remembered and/or pre-conceived data —
“jellyfish fur…” didn’t Gregory Corso write something like that?
“unborn teenage tongues…” did I read that in Kim Addonizio’s last book?
“I want big news all over my tombstone” surely I plagiarized Bukowski Himself (how embarrassing) or worse,
one of my friend’s chapbooks
“an adjective existence…” surely John Lennon
“the rain is made of lead…” surely Rayon Lennon
“non-dairy nipples…” surely David F Wallace
“a girl named Autumn O’Beale…” surely David Letterman
“Reagan girls w/ hipbones & hair to the moon…” surely Ginsberg (switch Reagan for Nixon)
“to bear boredom w/ majestic plumage…” surely Blake
“Earth is a big skull full of feathers & ash…” surely Alexie
“we can’t have big washed & manicured hands protecting our fairy rings…” surely Oliver
“make a pot of black tea and tell yourself a ghost story…” surely Sexton
“onion-sized tears; whole organs excised by this sadness…” surely Plath
“I got mad all over at people I thought I’d forgiven…” surely Natasha Tretheway
“hamburgers w/ eyes I couldn’t eat…” definitely Philip K Dick*
— which makes me wonder if I’ve hardened into a diamond?
Dolphin jaws clicking ’no’
w/ each roll of red tide
Bruxist slumber
leaving clues about these
microscopic acts of God
Indeed the very palmistry
Of humanity resembles the red
Tide molecule
Cats::gods as dogs::humans (best friends! duh
amigos
semper fidelis off leash
w/ liberty & entitlement
to bite any bullet
that whizzes by
on its bike)
Corpses draw malarial buzzing
A blowfly’s paradise
Sandcastling the shore of my incipience(Siesta Key, duh)
Ohhhh, shut up
One for the soup
One for the science
One for a new Way-ism to be Way-ist (and yes,
you will have to pay taxes)
I’m inside your dream, squeezing
the nectar from your endangered horn
You tear through the sheets
Muskoxen drown by the dozen in your throat
Rosary beads, ropes
Flying into the hellmouth
Held shut by the holiest hands on the planet
0825:0825p
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| Old Singlewood art 2012 |
A ZOOLOGICAL THEME
Mother Goose was a dirty old bird
Scouring the ghettos for easily
Groomed urchins…after scoping out their candied innards...
racking up points w/ the mafia…
by trafficking in joy…she died of doohicular homicide…
a thoroughly modern mishap involving a
plastic gun & an overcharged vape pen...
Her orphans are orange-tabbied, obituaried stepkids
Inopportune tone-deaf oopsists
Intoning kudos. Falsette. Oh, who’s your spirit amino?
The kudu. The hornet. The hippopotamus. The proboscis monkey. The pharmacist.
Anything but the fox, the wolf, the snow leopard, the eagle…the flatworm…
Preposterous!
Once Upon America’s Next Top Model:
A werefox of antarctic proportions, a rabbit nose, tarantula eyelash, elephant ride, jaguar cub…
…but nothing with donkeys?
What up w/ you hoes & your non-human racism?
Go bathe in a lake of kale
0825:0850p
[bring in the Tarot nazi. we’re using all these /s/words on the internet to get close to a god we once envisioned a sweet ponytailed babysitter of a deity, but no, he’s the father whose homecoming snaps like a belt]
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Red Meat Rhetoric
Shall I contact the old man on his birthday?
He was a sex hero because he was captive,
a war hero when he was let go
He won’t come to the door
The TV is his belly button
Big disaster in a clear blue sky—“severe clear”—
a sun too yellow to obey
would steal a man’s turquoise heart(earned on
the embalming table)
Masonic emblem on the urn
Does the Pope smoke dope?
Not only that
but he sips the sweat of treefrogs
off the tip of a dart
Surely Old Man knows every Pope by now,
every rockstar including Aretha Franklin
He’s surely met his gepettoized maker?
Concentrate
Camp in Dakota
Mein hills, ihren hosen
Blast breaks ground like a flat earth crouton
On an already nutty salad
Spins endless tractor axels
Connected not to wheels but blades
Make it seem like an axxident!
He falls pretty hard from the saddle
0829:0225a
********
Asleep under the wheels
(which exist on airplanes, but neither boats nor horses)
It’s not all thrusting & prayer
It’s also slow stroking science til it
squirts on God’s divine apparatus (we won’t assume they are
Man and woman, nor two gay men, but a lesbian couple, okay?)
Toggle on to upgrade wetware
I can hear you taxi, motorboat
Closer & closer; no wheels, no feet
Mud flaps crusty w/ what once was the ocean
Slap of fins on tarmac
The bubbly stuff, the dinosaur blood!
Come stomp your hooves
On the doorstep of your pet’s door [??]
0829:0225a
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NIXONIC
Once you were a friend
Now you’re an old expression
Falling off the face of a mountain
A brown Colorado mountain
Climbing is boring,
though boring is defined as digging inward,
soaring toward the center
Heal the stick figure
Struck by a boulder
The inner child
Sparkles on paper
0829:0250a
