The day Bud Lee
Poured a door pad
For Aunt Esta's white house.
The smoothing was done,
Gobbler Ervin ambled up
With coarse news.
"Someone blew off
JFK's head in Dallas."
Stillness clung to the
Air like black paint.
Momma's mixed cake batter
Became supper for
Emmy, our collie.
Even the dog seemed stunted.
Sobs in the night
Gave way to the light
Of a newborn day
Filled with death news.
Until the sight of the riderless horse-
(universal sign of a fallen hero)
The flag-draped coffin on a
Somber horse-drawn caisson…
Solidified the nightmare,
Much the same as 3 days
Curing had likewise hardened
Aunt Esta's new cement stoop.
---Bud offered to take it up
And pour a new one.
After some thought, Etts
Figured there was no comfort there.
Kennedy was dead and buried.
(Innocence shattered is glue proof)
The hard cement stoop
Mimicked sad canvas castaway hearts.
Anon endearingly-in stoic communion,
It remains as broad as it was long,
Serving still its unending term
Of remembrances of Camelot days.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Cotton is louder than she.
Every morning I feel for a pulse.
We brag about being married for a thousand years.
Without details of feckless romance or cosmopolitan tears.
I want my red wagon back.
I could pull it along with me everywhere.
There was never a coppery whiplash smile
Matched with languid, moonless eyes to bear.
Maybe today will be asteroid day.
When talent fails, indifference endures.
Please notice us, the flawed Dysan Sphere
In retrograde orbit, before we manifest your fear.
The grey cemetery
That Halloween night-
There was a new occupant you see.
A slight, unmarked grave
Down the rill where the
Poor, the indebted, and
Ruffians were planted in their seasons.
"Who is this new Sleeper
In our city of the dead, Mayor Bones?"
"His name is Feyd, an orphan soldier
Killed by cannon this very day."
"Fielded, dressed, and dropped herein,
We grieve this boy, abandoned
In death the way he was in life,
Wrapped in a patched tarpaulin."
The wind rustled a hollow hymn
As the minor woodland creatures
Marched forth to the cawing beats
Of the mountain birdland band.
Some carried white rocks,
Still others ported red or blue
Fronds from Pastor Alan ferns.
Their effort, by morning, took shape.
Sunup revealed quite a sight.
Down in the castaway plots
A magnificent flag draped grave
Caught the eyes of all passers by.
A rough hewn marker
Had even been instilled.
The bird peck inscription read
"Here Lies Dear Hero Feyd"
On my tombstone
Doesn't look like me.
I wonder why
My friends who
Parked me never visit.
Am I forgotten?
For I am surely dead.
Does no one want to know the rest?
Where is my hero?
Sparked not the favor of even one?
(I never knew to either love or fear selfishly.)
The fat ochre worms-
Breeched my casket in death,
Personal vault & camaraderie in life.
My hair jet-black remains,
Ebony as the nighthearts that
Willed forth fate's abandonment.
I look in the parking lots.
I will find them, and their children…
"Could heaven incarnate
Victor Lazlo to welcome me?"
The strange not-moo-cow musk-ox watches me die.
"How do they grow anything in all this water?"
The rice paddy hushes my wounds.
"Where is Alice?"
The smell of not-life is here.
"I have lost the road and the fire."
Mmmmm, lemon grass.
"Never be afraid to walk deep in the dark woods."
"A river uncrossed is a river untested."
"Shallow spirits fall in winter."
Roasted Peanut Flea Market Man
"I've never been to Spain."
Etowah Fat Mama
"When in doubt, Twinkies."
"We never knew where we were, or when we were there, but we knew we were right."
"I love my master."
The Raven-Haired Beauty of Gudger
"Friends are like fairy dust."
The Rowdy Guy at the Dixie Youth Games
"People respect thermal cameras."
"We love to ponder The Book of love'."
Driver's that Pass on the Snow-Covered Roads
"I am needed and wanted somewhere."
Jiffy Guy Cigarette Age Checker
"I admire your excellent taste in cheap smokes."
Undertakers (not all, but at least two)
"Caskets reflect the true essence of admiration."
My memorial stacks
Granite blocks, an
Obelisk finger to heaven.
Pale rain fades the edges.
Flour layers patted,
Rolled in turn.
Massed with the
Imprint of Egytpians.'
No need to buy
A smart, loving card.
Beneath factory poem.
Pie pans filled.
Graced with sugared
Dual tender crusts.'
Another duster or mug.
(I fear there was a stuffed
Cat you secretly desired.)
Home from school, work.
Fire built or ready to light.
Riches beyond Tiffany's
Surrounded undeserv-ed me.'
It wasn't yesterday,
But it really was. Now
When I hear the theme from
"Cheers," I cry alone.
Monday, October 21, 2013
The old cemetery was so large
A very big crowd was required to
Gather the caretaker's attention.
Today's crowd was not quite big.
The song being sung by the blurry
Group on this day bereft of cheer-
That is what caught his ear,
Before the corpse was laid to rest.
The words spoke of the Red River
Valley and brought to mind a
Journey away from home, ne'er
Expected to return, yet revered.
The caretaker imagined the
Cowboys of the last century,
Young men, old men, hard men-
Who had lived the trail hand's life.
Then he thought of his Father,
The old shaving cup still sitting
Monarch-like on the kitchen shelf,
The desert tales told round the table.
Tears fell masked by drizzle,
Feelings of something forever lost
Hollowed out vessels of hope.
Horses neighed off in a canyon.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
‘But if you had regular hands, you'd be like everyone else.'
‘Yes, I know.'
-from "Edward Scissorhands"
His pale orbs glowed dimly,
Beneath black bangs on a head
Considerably large for such a
Short and heavy set.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
This boy is guilty of arson and murder
In the destruction of Lamb Lot Church
Parsonage and its occupant, Rev. Chop."
The jury agreed.
Charlie went to the pen.
Seventy years of hard time later,
Here's the real story of the Holy Fire.
(Told to me, Timmy Lee,
Neath the visitor's yard oak tree.)
I seen that Preacher out
Near Mason's meadow, where the
Wilson sisters were found
Missing their bonnets & their heads.
It was pitch black night,
I'd gone gigging and was side winding home
Dragging on a Lucky Strike I
Stole from Uncle Gus, when I spied Chop.
He was a flailing his arms and
Carrying on like a mad dog
Speaking in tongues and kept
Shouting into a blazing hot bon fire.
Then I seen this big figure
Rise out of the flames, and
I seen his horns and knowed
It was the boogerman then and there.
Next thing, Chop hauls out two
Blue-checkered bonnets from his bag,
Same ones I seen Mary and Sudie
Wilson wear many a day to school.
Then the Devil hisself spoke
Saying, "My servant, you shall
Baptize everyone in this community
Into my crimson congregation."
Well, I knowed then and there
That I had to stop this devil's deal,
I figgered a crippled boy might just
Do one good unexpected thing.
I followed Chop home,
Waiting by the shed till I seen
Smoke belching out his chimbly,
I was froze on what to do next.
Then I smelled gas and found
A full jug by the side of the shed.
Next thing I knowed, I had shambled
Up Chop's chimbly and chugged it full.
He come out flailin his arms like before,
Screaming and askin the Lord's forgiveness,
But the only reply I heard was a breeze
Singin' thru a weepin' willow.
Well I never had climbed before or since,
So I just sat there by the shed and watched
The burning end its solemn flourish,
Until the law came & seen me there, smiling.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
The third plate had persimmons.
That was when I noticed the
Unfaded square on the wall,
Then I asked if I could make a call.
Doesn't everyone sooner or later?
If AAA is all that good,
Why doesn't it include broken people?
So the rollback comes,
Loads us up and rides the
Night out of Belltown,
Driver asks if I smelled the river.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
She lay still in Pacific shallows,
Pretending to be a part of skyline,
Listening to the planshopeschemes
The mini-people floated from shoreline.
Her breath mingled with surfcrash,
Sighing moistly a lost whalesong refrain-
Pondering their futile fear of outgrowing
Life challenges, these children of pain.
That's where we hung out on the Citizen's Band
Around this neck of the woods.
These were all dear friends,
Some I never did or will meet.
Some passed on way too early-
Brenda Marie Bowers Bolinger,
3's and 8's to y'all, and others I
Know not recent news of…
A roll call of best memories-
Little Deer, Suzi Q,
Big Al, Minnie Mouse, Dr. Pepper,
East Texas, Kayo Kid, Wild Goose, Seatwarmer, Tex,
Jumping Judy(JJ), Bodyman, White Dove,
WT, Uncle Russ,
Mr. Kool, Soul Sister, Jackhammer,
Hound Dog Man,
See you all in that big coffee break in the sky,
Keep an eye out for Uncle Charlie!
This is Little Eagle, KFO-5700, signing off
One last time, forty years later…
Saturday, September 21, 2013
My little town,
Is the best joint around,
Ne'er a sadly sound,
Even cats don't frown!
Good ole town square,
Is a retro street fair,
Clans stomp without care,
Faygo dandy pink hair.
Lo! A/ged K3 great hall,
Served with odd lobster ball,
Hardware store's mute jute call,
Fishing the darkman falls.
Musical high school,
Candy stripe teach rule,
Feckless plop glory fool
Covet Hook's peridot shoe.
No can/ned tea,
Free lobes DeeDee,
Creakie Coker's Salton Sea,
Buck's Bald TV.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
She claims she don’t miss
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Monday, July 1, 2013
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
When flattered with a hot iron,
Serenaded with pennies sink plinking.
She once was Queen HC,
She once breathed freewill)
Her husband’s welcome to the light
“You’re no love, just a placeholder wife.”
Grey night shades gave way to last tragic day,
The Gooch house has no birds.
The real disenchantment of the whole façade
Was his only apparent concern of all the vast
Where are your safety glasses?
The only question that would have been
Answered on the news & in the paper-whether
“He/she had their safety glasses on.”
In a 6 banger pick-up.
Two wheels leaving the pavement,
Circling the A&W, funeral home burnouts.
Was the seat belt being worn?
Trunks full of weevil wobbles and Rural Vale.
The news reports all focus on the
Wearing, or absence of, seatbelt rex.
Into the only active volcano in
The driver was reportedly NOT wearing
A safety restraint, BUT he was wearing SAFETY glasses!”
Sunday, May 19, 2013
They still sav(i)or his prose
The way red paints a rose.
Drive-by gunnings, &
All things bunga-bunga.
No one jests, for his bedrests-
Furrowed & shaken glacier fests.
Of the loves not wisely but
Too well-scarred offspring.
Northumberland anon & doles out
All things fair & foul- Bill Pills.
Summer Ale, New Rochelle,
Secrets you neither tell or reve(a)l.
Trapped under water, maybe ice,
Singing “sur le pont d’avingnon…”
Once, twice, thrice~
Friday, April 26, 2013
Grey night shades gave sway to last tragic day,
The Gooch house has no birds.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
-Race me over in the
Then try your best to ex plain
Why the reason for the season is you.’
Can you drive a man straight,
To the depths of Hades?
Will the water float truth
Or drown it like Ophelia?
Trust the name you write now,
‘Cos soon you gonna hug ground.”
Pine tree be a cryin’,
South wind be a sighin’,
Lay you now a dyin’.)
Monday, April 15, 2013
Still air dances with
Sweet secret movement.
Ever from puresong,
Trailing verbs & reverb.
Dark music mosaics-
Reality abstracted view.
Ruleseekers and rakes.
Smooth as light reflected.
Our songs fly away with us
To the other side of the world…