"The Death of Uncas"

---"But once, we were here." Chingachgook, The last of the Mohicans.

Earth-
Slipping through the forest thickets
Spryly; a springing leopard on the veldt.
Uncas! Unfettered by guilt, debt, or regret,
Seeks his love, his destiny, his own Munro.

Water-
Ancestor Spirit flows in his veins,
The son of the father, a soul without chains.
Uncas! Friend to all that would be free,
Companion to Hawkeye, la long carabine.

Fire-
Duelling with Magua, whose hate burns
Beyond extinction. Felled by a fell blade…
Uncas! Beloved child, friend, and future groom,
Banished from earth to his heavenly tomb.

Air-
Taller than the treetops, swifter than the raven,
Nature spirits mourn the long death plummet of
Uncas! Brave-man, lover of life and the sister
Munro, following her wherever she may go

Above, Below. Love is the artificial horizon.

"The Robot Rapture"

New Old Japan

Started the postmodern love fray-

“Why can’t robot and man

Be married today?”

‘There is no need of divorce,

When your partners possess

On/off switches on the back

Of their neck,”-they profess.

Now the fad has gone amuck.

Robot bill of rights, baptism,

Discount disco night-no end in

Sight for this mechanical schism.

Factions groups demand a stop

To rampant robot intermarriage.

ChromeHead-One chronicled that

“Sorrow powers empty baby carriage.”

(To the credit of society, we didn’t

Enslave the robots with Church edict sing.

Nor did we drive them from their native land.

Mandated kill switches made us king.)

It surprised us all, well not the Jews,

That day the robot souls drifted like fog

To their own gearhead Paradise, leaving

Man to once again clean up after his dog.

"The Lost Song"

Why did you die, McV?

Leaving such a good song
To remain unsung, everlong?
A shame for you, a shame for me.

Sometimes the wind courts

Your lost song’s beat.
Tree limbs tapping feet-
House draft vocals of sorts.

Colorado would’ve loved you.

Unlike your cold Ocoee shroud.
(Artists funeral ne’er draw a crowd.
Less their riches cause great rue.)

Good Friend McV, visit me again.

Sing your song, “The Utopian”
I can’t sing it for me, or any man.
Dance your melody-for my soul’s wan.

"The Fortean Valentine Incident"

Met I the spirit in a waking dream
Which lasted several lifetimes.
The days afterwards were hollow,
Filled with prits and prots and jots.

Loved I the spirit in a mash up of eras
Darker some than others, like licorice.
Gold rained and water shimmered
Beneath this spirit and the acolyte I.

Lost, I lost this spirit, fallow hope spasm.
Emerging from the ether world back
To dry blood-stained parking lot of
Nondescript convenience store odors.

Heart tattoos vending machine playing
Journey & 2Chainz, wedded alternately.

Night people, drawn by red smells,
Consider me, then snarl and laugh.

Can I Dream the spirit dream again before
I fade into a dim lit waiting room's tapestry?

"Meet Me at the Moontower"

Darlin' Phaedra,

Our trail homeward has begun.
We'll be punchin' hoofs in
Texas again ‘fore autumn winds
Start blowin' o'er the prairie.

By your birthday night I promise
To breathe Austin air, clean and combed.
Be at our grove by the little river,
Cleanse my dusty heart by your wondrous sight.

Till then, I'll just sing more to myself,
And ‘ole Stamper, while watchin' this
Trail unwind like your golden tresses,
Shimmerin' in the moonlight.

Yours Truly,
William

"Cement Stoop"

11/22/63-
The day Bud Lee
Poured a door pad
For Aunt Esta's white house.

Right after
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.