Thursday, August 30, 2012

“Nirvana Incense”

Got troubles?
Buy some heaven in a jar.
A little dab will do it!
Good for backache, stray spouses,
Mad dogs and Englishmen.

If The Commons is all
Deconstructed, Lenny
In periodical research can fix
You up with blotter Mickey,
The Mouse that roars all night!

Low budget? No problemo!
Better than Denso/Drano crap or
Bath salts. Just light it and
Watch the little animals crawl
Peacefully inside your head.

Breathe! Breathe! Smell
The Firestarter! Be the shy
Salamander that loves the flames,
Singing "New York, New York"
In the Tennessee rains.

In the dark it’s less strange now,
Kurt sang and lived the dank
Soul well that has no bottom, whose
Lofty depths reincarnate as fries or
Tellico Beach Cole Slaw Baby!

Beware the vegan cannibals!
The professor that smells fear
While emitting a stage 4 EMP!
The answer to the question is the
Sum of dread minus forgotten tests.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

"The Marriage of Lucerne"

The snow lay thick upon the Alps,
The small stream of people
Dotted the pews
Much like window flies,
Unsure of their destination.

Alas, bereft of the
Vogue of lawyer approved vows,
Couple Hearst and Wang
Patiently awaited Parson Chide
While notes of love floated aloft.

Noses upturned like ski slopes,
Churning petulant cores.
“I can’t wrap my head around this,”
Exclaimed sergeant-at-arms honor maid.
“Internationalism is not neutral.”

With formed forms handily handled,
Parson Chide rose from the floor,
Much like Angus Young did during
AC/DC’s Heatseeker Tour, his
Book of Holy Matrimony clutched open.

Dearly Beloved, we come here to
Witness the union of these two into one.
Say you yes Hearst and Wang?
They nodded and watched the wine steward
Crawl out of the wall and toast them.

The Wedding March bellowed,
Gliding the new husband and wife
Out of the Church into the street
Lined with cars of unknown origin,
Awaiting On-Star’s newly confirmed route.

Love is resistance, love is faith.
Three million Disney balloons
With the image of a questionable clown,
Fail to release the prisoners of love,
Only time can manage that feat.

Friday, August 24, 2012

“The Men Eat First”

How is this not the antebellum?
Well Lincoln finally had to free the slaves
That left only the women and children to
Browbeat and lord over like the Caste King-
William Applebee Jackson Wilfred Sr.

 “You’ll eat when I say you’ll eat!”
(Cave paintings were more sophisticated!)
“You’ll go to Church where I tell you to go to Church!”
“You’ll vote for who I tell you to vote for.”
(This makes tuna seem multi-dimensional!)

Submission isn’t what it used to be,
All those pesky shades of grey and then
There’s reality as well to be reckoned with at
Least once a month, allowing for direct deposit.
Corn dodgers secretly plan a revolt!

Everything is war with men, everything is
Nothing to protest too loudly with women.
Wait, that was Adam-12 in the 70’s!
Give the men an X-Box and require they
Expect no deep kissing with Skoal in their mouth!

Yeah, if you admire someone not afraid or too
Timid to whip for discipline, well then, when
It’s your time to grab those ankles don’t blame
Mama, Papa, Sister, Brother, Preacher, Teacher.
You abide only what you feel you deserve.

Men get those caps on so you can eat and belch
Public restaurants back a few centuries.
When you don’t outgrow your raising
You just validate the bad ways that went before-
This is not good progress George!

“There is NO Spoon”

Dream diner,
The waitress orbits
Pilates planets then Zumba moons.
The menu is in Braille and
There is NO spoon…

Television tabletop,
Salt and pepper control knobs.
I watch David Letterman
Prompt the audience to laugh saying,
“There is NO spoon.”

 Robot fry cook,
Sings some country tune.
“My love is like a tire iron
Made in the month of June, but Lord
There is NO spoon.”

Waitress waits
Looking at me with her good eye
I ask “What’s the special?”
She replies, “Catfish soup and tofu, but
There is NO spoon.”

Blonde Boy
Plays his r/c toy, plummets
Mustang through a herd of heifers.
He looks up smiling, saying “Eat soon-
There is NO spoon!”

“Seamus & the Dog Bog”

Seamus, Seamus,
Was your ride fresh?
Would the rain wait
For a good dog
To find the bog?

Seamus, Seamus,
Did the sky frown?
When darkness fell
Crusting the bowl
Like pitch-black coal?

Seamus, Seamus,
Hear bog dog’s howl?
Chance for parley?
Greetings exchanged?
Escapes arranged?

Seamus, Seamus,
Smell the bog stank?
Could it now spread?
Were there more pets
Abandoned wet?

Seamus, Seamus,
Can freedom sing?
Bog dog ears perk?
Canine chorus
Ring before us?

Thursday, August 23, 2012

“The Last Equation”

Multiply your life love
By your disappointments
Then divide by pi and add
Koresh two by two.

The secret of math is
That you are a zero
Zero is your past,
Future, and present.

Under Title VII
We have to admit
That you are conscious,
Take a tax credit!

Teach a man to fish-
He will fish.
He will equate fishing
To having a life!

“Sleep Well Little Rodney, Sleep”

-Washington Post - He was finally stopped by four Los Angeles police officers who were videotaped striking him more than 50 times with batons, kicking him and shooting him with stun guns. He suffered 11 skull fractures, a broken eye socket and facial nerve damage.-

Eleven skull fractures?
FuzzFuzz wish they had done twelve.
For all the evil Nazis were,
They at least had the decency to murder Anne.

We cry for you Rodney,
We cry and say the real goodbye.
You don’t have to carry figurehead weight
Like a media slave anymore, dear brother.

Sure, all of the assassinated martyrs
Had PCP and other evil drugs in their system.
One thing about being dead dear Rodney,
You can’t be sure the truth is on a VCR tape anymore.
Your Mama loved you as much as any of our Mamas
Loved us, Rodney - muted and finally castrated,
We have to remember that your vexed evilness
Was as obtuse as Patty Hearst’s Thompson gun love.

You were beaten inhumanely Rodney,
Then you had to legitimize your survival,
No one will remember how you
Drew your Mama outlines of your hand in crayon now.

Sleep little Rodney. Sleep.
What a proud lot we are.

Monday, August 20, 2012

"Odelay! Jerky Beef!"

Stale bread is still bread.
It will prevent starvation.
People order off the menu,
But refuse a chef ovation.

 Rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka.

Interpret intentions of
Founding alphabet auteurs!
Yes means no, six is nine,
Cry ‘fowl’ you clueless bores.

Rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka.

I met a man from Pakistan,
He collected sandals and shoes.
“Friends” was must-see TV,
Jamming to Sex Pistols’ blues.

Asked why he loved America,
“Because I get tech support
Free government phone home
When I need a headline sort.”

Rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka.

Don’t look at newspapers!
Don’t read dead tree media!
Listenjoin CrusadeNation!
Burn the Wikipedia!

Rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka.

Whether Oak Ridge blows,
Zombie Apocalypse blood flows,
Congress refuses to wear clothes,
OR bitter old men organize foes…

We tend to get not only what we deserve,
We beg for it, vote for it, adore its fee.
Consume it-then complain there is never
Anything good to eat in the pantry.

Rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka!

Saturday, August 18, 2012

“Waterfalls and Roxy”

Cold spray on a hot day
Makes the memory stay
Of certain lazy ways
You sang and sipped and played.

We would stand, Do the Strand,
Avalon, hand in hand.
Ne’er harsh word or demand-
Crisp air, wet hair, our band.

Country Life, without strife,
You’d have made-better wife.
Love Is the Drug, our knife,
Bliss’ bounty, gossip rife.

Ne’er o’er my Angel Eyes,
My Same Old Scene disguise,
Proves yet again unwise,
Till we dance in the skies.

"The Burl and Hilt Fight"

Dah doo doo doo, dah da da da,
Hilt swung high and Burl swung low,
Three girlfriends and two wives
Ducked for cover and found love-
Sons in chains marveled awake.

Bread bags full of weed and
Milk jugs full of moon brew-
More money crossed the old railroad
Than churchgoers on a Sabbath morn,
Forget King Cotton, meet King Corn!

“Don’t call me stupid,” Burl roared,
“Don’t call me a lar,” Hilt implored,
“Lar? What’s a lar?” Burl then asked.
“It’s a liar, you stupid git,” Hilt rasped.
(Refreshments courtesy of EFM)

Knuckles, knees, elbows, thumbs.
Heads, fists, feet, butts.
No atomic pile-drivers or other
Sissy-boy rasslin’ moves used now.
Burl smacked Hilt to death, somehow.

Rubber snakes and frozen weenies,
Make for a poor raising and numerous
Hees and haws and pooh pooh poohs
When shackled children get hauled in
Penal vans to custra-nutstra funerals.

“Over the hill, Hilt roamed the field,
Till bad whiskey one day sealed his deal.
Never call big men names my son,
Unless you have strong legs to run,
Or a honeybadger in your pants.”

"The Battle of Mount Vernon"

Possum troops braced for the squirrel artillery
While owl envoys slept through peace talks.
“Hold this ridge if you love your children!”
Brayed Mayor Mule to his heifers.

3 Days Earlier-
Mount Vernon Town Council Meeting-
Mayor Mule-“Armadillos are animals too!”
Scabby Squirrel-“They’ll move in here over my dead nuts!”
Etowah Fat Mammas provided rations,
Mayfield was too broke for milk so Coors stepped in.
Deep Cut was the heart of the battle as
Crows blanketed the sun while observing the fray.

3 Days Later-
FEMA Mobile HQ (1976 Ford Pinto)-
Mr. White-“Order has been restored Mr. Mayor.”
Major Mule-“I’ll miss Scabby Squirrel, NOT!”

Friday, August 17, 2012

"Love, Chelsea"

Thirteen times under the bridge,
I waited for the sound of
Your horse hoofs knocking
Wooden hellos in advance of
Seeing you return from the war.

Thirteen times sitting at my secretary,
I wrote you of the Yankee occupation,
The lynching of widows and orphans
Never published in saintly journals
Proclaiming brotherhood’s New South.

Thirteen times meeting in Church,
I prayed the Lord would bring you
Home unfettered and whole to
Baby Adele and Brother Jake,
Dog Red and Mule Winston.

Clad in the dress you favored,
I try to smile as cheerful tree frogs
Chorus a tune for me from the marsh.
Happiness without you causes wet
Tears to return time after time.

Sunsets dim my hopes of reunion now.
Houses keep burning from fires
Blamed on Rebels too weak to walk.
What dreams may come when none
Stand for us in humanity’s eclipse?

Monday, August 13, 2012

"SubSpace Love"

Roko1 & Roko2 exist inside
Separate universes, yet
Love each other via subspace.
The major problem with this is
They never will get to meet.

On Mr. Brightside,
They will never fall out of love
Because they are different
Shades of the same soul,
Living & loving a parallel life.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

“The Fly with the Erudite Face”

Gabba, gabba, hey I like yo sugar!
Pour some honey on me Domino.
Don’t leave me to read in the dark again
Or I might find someone else to whirl-a-gig
After the plains steam and the eggs roll.

Ombudsman, carry my esoteric complaint
To good King Norge, why can’t Olso be
Christiania again so as to match my trivet?
What suave kitchen can be considered mod
When such DNA mismatches abound?

Are we not Anglo-Saxon flotsam royal
Sprinkled with jetsam common?
To be paired correctly we must follow
The rule of steel and sweetener, so
Fly me to the Wal-Mart candymoon.

Let me take my leave of this nest of
Hypocritical backstabbers that honor
The Sabbath only by singing hymns and
Disallowing the sale of knives during service.
Toll the house bell well and with vigor.

Burn Clowns named Bozo in effigy!
Demand the right to return games and dvds!
Shout Odelay! from rooftops and ladders,
Until your insect kin comes and glides us
Back home with them to ice creamy shores.

“Déjà Dead”

Huge turtle stone bomb
Plummets into a top floor.
Run to elevator and get in,
Then wait for stragglers
Until smushed going down.

Please smoke out back
Next to the explosives
Away from sensitive lungs.
Softly mumble a polite curse.
Got a light, Sherlock?

Drive faster at Wendy’s
Drive-thru, take extra ketchup!
Yee-ha I’m a superstar!
Ram the Volkswagen in
Retribution for Sgt. Rock.

Searching for driveway gravel
Diamonds here comes Brown
Teamed with FedEx tryin’ to
Run me down, down to the ground,
Precious stones make me drown.

Tee ball kids attack the crowd,
Strike blows for freedom from
Winning and FB photo postings.
Mom I don’t want my PICTURE
Taken---whack, whack, whack!

The produce vegetables wage war
On the fat girl and skinny boys
Lurking in the deli dept corner.
Cucumbers rally with zucchinis-
Terrorizing the beef eaters.

Free range chickens revenge their
Cousins, disguised as LGBT cows.
The free eaters are plucked, then
Marginalized into nerfgun fodder
For the “New Institution Reason Hour.”

“I Can See Russia”

Relationships, bone-break my heart,
Soon as one ends, can’t wait to start
Another doomed romance foray,
No time to read papers today!

Octo, octo, octo, octo.
Eight in eight and four by four woe.
(I went to an obscure college
A for-profit place, poor knowledge)

 -----i keep waiting for you to change be different but your still that same sweet guy from day one thank you for loving me and being amazing to me everyday i do not know what i would have done if i had not had you keeping me together these last few months i could not have ask for a better companion and best friend in my life i love you so much-----

Whenever that gets said-vamoose!
They run like I’m a hangman’s noose.
I try my best to keep it real,
Come back from fishing, empty creel.

Oh-blah-dee, oh-blah-la-de-dah.
Love you see, is not for prancing,
Disappointment-like line-dancing.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

“Tellico Plains and the Siege of the Twentieth Century”

The old timers hen together at Hardee’s
Proclaiming what a long, strange trip it’s been.
The river still runs, the people have guns,
Chick Corea will never play town square.

The high school still fields the same name,
Same mascot, something Madisonville and
Vonore failed on miserably years ago.
Bill Gate’s gave the town library internet.

Adios Stokley boys, rough getting year round
Work after generations of work and draw.
Railroad ran out of town of a rail,
Piggly Wiggly, epic fail to Sav-A-Lot.

The Beach Drive-In remains a
Sure bet on good food and absence of
Next table redneck banter, though
Hair washing in the river looks trashy.

Yeah, there are a lot of strange old dudes
Riding  bikes laden with mystery parcels,
Conducting Walter Mitty business parked
Next to glass…Their agenda remains secret.

The town never turned into a Swiss gateway
To a ski lodge, much like the Pride never
Quite gets as clean as its name would suggest.
Strange summer fires still burn in Druid Hill.

“The History of POWs in Tellico Plains”

Frank and Athel Wilson
Were hauled off by
Sherman after the
Tellico River cannon raid.

Hans came from Munich
Courtesy of Allied forces-
Survivors of Normandy,
Khaki Angels of Life.

Makayla met Tink on FaceBook
They married on top of the falls.
Three kids later she plots
Her escape across Stokley’s bottoms…

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

“The Day Sean Connery Visited Tellico Plains”

Well the co-op wasn’t busy,
When a Yamaha or whatever
Pulled up and a grey-haired
Gent with a brogue swung off.

Seems there was a party
Of film types swarming Star’s
Doing pick-ups and a reshoot
For some “Highlander” joint.

Peterson’s had a big lobster
Order come in, and there was
Noticeable energy in the air
Over the way down Mecca.

No proclamation mayoral,
Nor danced town square,
For the Bondman, the
Man Who Would Be King.

Just a “How’reyou” & a wink,
Then the motorbike riced
Its way back towards the
Holy Pike blacktop two-lane.

Perhaps someone revered
Sean with legend tales of
Daring-do tourist square war,
Shotgun wads fired galore!

Only one knows, but others
Maintain yet that on still
Autumn mornings Star’s
Mountain yields bagpipe melody.

Tur rah lur ra lurie,
Tur rah lur rah lou.

"Dead Carpet"

There was that house
George used to pass
Every day driving
To work before he
Moved for better pay.

His friends missed him,
Friend's wives worried
George would shanghai
Their men and force
Them to think Mamaless.

That house, George kept
Remembering the Gillman’s
When they lived there,
Hulking orange van
Parked in the yard.

The kids called that van
And Mr. Gillman Punkin’,
For he was round and
Good-natured yet distant,
Like trees in November.

Punkin’s daughter Clara,
She could climb trees
Really good and fast too.
Clara had a quiet nature
Though and played out only.

Then they had moved, ‘cos
Punkin’ found another job,
Housed closer to it, miles away
Clara and her siblings left.
George wanted her to stay.

Somehow Clara met the
Bad Man, and he took her
From her Mama and Punkin’.
Left her in a shallow grave
Alive but too weak to climb.

The family was poor and
Didn’t inspire much social
Will to apprehend Bad Man.
They finally grieved back
Up north whence they came.

Their old place lost its spirit,
Clara’s playmates grew up.
When he decided to marry,
George left to pursue wealth
So his kids might fare better.

Before he went, George
Visited the house, the small
Faded pink-walled room
Upstairs with her ghost trees
Shading dead carpet meadows.

Monday, August 6, 2012

“Open House Mouse”

Touring the rather mundane
Yet highly touted backwater
Summer Meet You Business Festival,
Pippin regarded the truth in the phrase
“Nobody likes a rat”.

The restaurants had predictable fare,
The churches focused on soul food,
The food stamp office drew animosity,
From working people jealous of misfortune,
While the plastic plant delivered in spades!

Hoosier Dada Plastics & Novelties
Cafeteria manager Lee D. Cook,
Beamed at the popularity of his
Plasticky Cotton Candy, Cellophane Catfish,
Lonely Nightstand Naugahyde Nougats.

Pippin was overly familiar with
The restaurants from years of snacking,
But he found this cafeteria food quite
Astounding and marveled at how the
Plant workers resembled the food as well.

Especially an AARP man member imitating
Bowser of Sha Na Na in his muscle shirt that
Accentuated his turkey arms and a lumpy,
Dumpy-faced woman with four children &
Four last names eating cake slice big as a baby.

This feminine juggernaut frightened Pippin.
Smeared cake clowned her appearance, plus
She kept winking at a impossibly thin man while
Yodeling “here kitty, kitty”---scariest sound ever
To echo round the matter horn of mouse thought.

Pippin thought to retreat to a church where
Less cat voodoo would likely be heard.
Then he slipped on cake & fell, fell, fell,
Landing on his potato peel bed in his pickle-jar
Home, away from kitty kitty calls &

Disposable People.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

"Ode to Mourning"

‘Dylan lay in an open casket, his face restored, no sign of the gaping head wound. He looked peaceful. His face was surrounded by a circle of Beanie Babies and other stuffed toys.’    From “Columbine” by Dave Cullen

Keeper of the Dead,
Do you ever weep for the living?
We hardly ever seem to abide a day
Without grieving some body or time lost.

I’d rather lay it off on selfishness than
Faithlessness, for never have I been without
Occasional vice and gladly defer character to
Soul redaction nurtured by unholy embraces.

Some can’t say dead, some can’t see dead.
Others know the results of Judgment Day
In advance even of the announcement of
Jubilation’s opening act. This I ponder.

Those that like me, sat the night in a death house
Comforted by ones loved not wisely
But too well, realize the mistakes of us left
Alive now no longer haunt our beloved departed.

It is this cyclic end that is out horror to bear,
Life, interrupted. Her pallid conscience adrift in an
Indigo night fraught with rogue waves lurking.
Welcome new mornings chance we may love again!

Saturday, August 4, 2012

“Fat Man, Horse, and Bus”

Power bars for everyone! Yeah there’s some fake chocolate camaraderie!
Ooga Chaka, Ooga Ooga,
Ooga Chaka, Ooga Ooga.

Yes, we are a close knit team,
Like Germans and Russians,
Norge and Swedes,
Alabamadites and Tennesseans.

With six you get eggroll,
But what about Sony?
We’ll get back to you on that at
The next employee meeting.

One year and much hair later,
The FM dials Outlaw,
Horse pasture filly refuses to leave,
Bus’s’s’s’s’s  mare is a real nag. Woof!

Jonah Hatchet brings
Power bars for
Everyone still not weaned.

Friday, August 3, 2012

"The Great Denso Anthrax Hoax"

White Rabbit! White Powder!
Run Forrest run!
Have foreigner
Agitators come to Denso?
What about Mayfield?

Mobilize the SWAT,
aka Amos and Aaron Philbin,
Two shotguns & a pair of WWII
Surplus gas-masks, oh and
A six pack of Billy Beer(for interrogating)

So the authorities find
Baby powder, hmm used
To cut viscor I reckon, but
No sign of Anthrax, Slayer,
MegaDeth or Billy Ray Cyrus.

They blame it on a temp,
The same ones that are
The last to see some parts
Out of the building….hmm
There’s some part-time irony.

Meanwhile in London
Some poor chap in a Jag
Almost makes it to his Mum’s
Autumn festival, until his
Auto quits---burping powder.


Spooky Tooth dropped a glass that
Remarkably broke apart in seven equal parts.
The pieces each then made their way back up to the tabletop
And spoke sharply and in turn.

The first said “I pierce the joy of childhood by showing Death in playland.”

The next smiled keenly and said “I am the parent’s promise that gets broken.”

Number three said “I make fun of you at school.”

Then four fanged a grin and said “I love you and leave you.”

Five dove forward and said “I am the hate that fills your friend’s hearts.”

Six glittered and said “I live in the dark with you when you are alone.”

Lastly, seven beamed and said, “I am desolation, and I will try to break your faith with every living breath that you take.”

Spooky Tooth cleared the remnants of glass off of the table into a trash can and wept.


You can call me Boo,
You can call me butter head,
sausage boy, or bowtie moo-cow,
But if you want to be my huckleberry,
You better call me soon.

Nights are the blindness of the lonely.
My island uncharted without you,
No shipping lanes or ice-cream crates
Are in sight, just birds of doubt that
Circle endlessly and won’t give me a fish.

Lightning scars the face of my solitudes,
The fleeting ghost glow shows no clue,
Of a rescue ship to free me, a vessel of hope
Streamlined with love and captained by you-
Please call me now and call me Boo.

Something moves determinedly around my camp,
A minor chorus of rasping breath and tippy tap claws
Accompany this unwelcome guest’s sly parade.
It wants to spite me and then bite me, I know-
Still there’s no alarm to ring and banish my foe.

I feel a strange reverberation underneath…
My phone - its set on vibrate and I’m getting a call!
What’s this? It says “unknown” on the display.
Cruel fate! Why can’t she call me now and call me Boo?
I’d rather be eaten by guilt than talk to a stranger!

Thursday, August 2, 2012

“Fifty Shades of Earl Grey”

(inevitable topic turn at baby showers and jewelry shows)

Momma fat-

Peter Panda once spanked Julia Child.
Four by four, literally---ages 1, 4, 9, and 12.
Blasphemed by the pouting of milk!
Overtly afraid of anthrax, while
Posing for the benefit of Mr. Kite.

Secret santa-

Bonjour les jeaune filles!
Parlez-vous Best Dressed Spaniards & Mexicans?
No arrows through the head, please!
Excalibur, thy name is Marvin, now smite Thee the dragon.
(Riders ride, creepers creep)


Ode to Billie Joe and its unisex name.
“Fire is the Devil’s only friend” – Don McLean
Nearly beat to death by Vietnamese yet
PresElection defeated mark of McCain.
Tribal stamped & tramp led fame.


i smell yellow, taste pink, hear green, see red, and feel blue.
Cubans declare Castro in heaven the night He expires, and you?
Where will i surface if i don’t smother?
(her mental vacuity precluded any Contract-Comprehension,
Only the dismal, metered, slapping of another jug as it filled)


Prick Your foil Picardo Piccolo , then
Rent Your dandy gown and frown-
Your contractee is haute couture drunk, her
Mountebank’s hawking the snail trails, knowing
Badness enjoys badness and getting punished.

(chamomile’s muffled whimpers permeate the stark darkness)

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

"The Love Zone Brasil/Prague"

You are in the love zone when you say "I love you" & he/she says "I love you" back. If he/she says "And I can't live without you" instead, you are not in the love zone.

You are in the love zone if, when watching Sponge Bob, he/she looks at you and laughs.
You are not in the love zone if, when watching Sponge Bob, all he/she talks about is Random Kardashian/Denzel.

Finally, you are in the love zone if a SWAT team breaks into your house for those past due parking tickets and he/she says I'll have you out in no time!
But, you are not in the love zone if a SWAT team breaks into your house for those past due parking tickets and he/she screams "I'm finally FREE, he/she has a GUN!"

"Gilberto's Dictionary"

JRG you were good to me,
You even tried to teach “The Great Gatsby”
& it wasn’t your fault that even though
Teenagers know what cheating & relationships &
Money & power are, they really don’t.

Now the dictionary that your Dad gave you and you loaned me,
Well it gets a lot of work and the truth you see,
Is that I get sad that a lot of the words used now were not included
Back in the mid-sixties “Webster’s New World,” and a lot of the words in it
Seem pretty archaic now---isn’t that a tragedy?

You taught and took some of us to see “Macbeth” and “Henry the Fourth Part II”
For that I am always in your debt, and also for trying to pair me up
With an beautiful and intelligent girl that should have married better,
But life is uncomfortably very much like “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest”
And seldom do we have linens monogrammed with a JG or even a JRG.

Cousin-Preacher was a great fellow two and our trio cut an ample swath
Through the jumbled jungle of Deliverance-esque rural landscapes, those
Clannish consortiums which bordered the few hiccups of culture within cheap gas range.
Drive to Knoxville for a lousy taco from Taco Rancho? Yes please!
Part two of the joy of living, after playing in the woods, was our friendship.

We could talk Gore Vidal & Ken Kesey & The Bard & Twain (I still feel so sad that he
Was an Atheist- Why? Why? Why?) I wish I could ask you now JRG, but time and tide
Didn’t wait for us either, & once I was freed from the sallow, fallow Pit, I dared not look back for
Fear of becoming a pillar of salt like many of the natives there, mired in wallow.
The Book will come back to your house someday-for now it is still needed, dearest JRG.

“World without Gore V”

I may not be wise,
Still hypothesize -
Gore was Earp & Wilde
& Byron & Pope,
In previous guise.

Hollywood outlawed
Would have taken pause…
(Debauchery caused
Malice ‘forethought clause)

Declare Gore Vidal -
“Suave, damn suave,” & toast
Death’s thousand-yard stare
With mind unaware…
Pabst Blue Ribbon sweat glare.