Wednesday, April 8, 2009

the cloudcover is replete with blazes

hear a poem i wrote: the cloudcover is replete with blazes

Bowling Green, Kentucky is eaten up by a hapless drawl
Denny's & Dine or Don't
neon shamans to flighty coffee rings
dirty collars and lipstick rims
mangle reflected faces

the great smoky mountains mock snow and conifers in late march sunlight
wide-jawed peasants spit tobacco bits from their lips
stare vacantly at overturned tractor trailers and mumble bible verses
washtub trained prayers
behind-the-ears mantras
idle hands search for the devil's playmate
mold red clay into mississippi bricks

the ohio river swells kentucky road signs
and terrorizes southern indiana tank commanders
the smell of cabbage and blue lights
left as Magda's breadcrumbs
the waffle house glow hounds Shiva from the back seat
to sniff the 7-11 dumpster

hot nevada night sprinklers ricochet from every brick wall
the Hoover Dam is lit from below
a playplace for dry tours and Arizona
Kingman is too far to justify not stopping
to fuck in the passenger seat on two laytex strewn lookouts
framed by rock, steel highway barriers and clear skies
down below is either nothing
or your mother's birthplace
it cant be water

the only business in chamberlain maine is bedded down in july
with no breakfast in sight
the postmaster/mayor Dana steers up the driveway in his late 80's buick
welcoming low tide and lobster pots
a pair of 1930's Schwinns from Southampton insure a lunchdate
with grandpa
and dessert in the grass by Pemaquid Lighthouse

Dolan Springs is keen on August
is the largest building in town
is a mobile home
chipped plowshares lean against corrugated siding on town hall
the tavern is dusty stucco fronted by a steel coca cola sign
that would have been shipped out as a saucer sled in another town

i'm terrified of huge dogs, lumberyards, snow shovels and drowning
take three aspirin, flip a coin
and hang on the left turn

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