the echo now

the echo           the burn
the hand       legerdemain
the ocean            a door
last call          rain
the mill         pebbles, grass
the invisible          planet
hunger               thread
breath          respite
angel                 dresses
here            nowhere
yonder           now

who knew

rock on ice lhl bw

where was the lord when the grinding began
the rock rolled then, the torture was going
badly–no common language, we heard things
drifting, dissipating, what was left, a
few furs and old money, a persimmon
seed, dust in every groove, an empty
bottle or two, a brass chain, where were they
living, who knew the last war would be so
invigorating, so short on supplies
and hallucinogens, our offerings,
insensate, so deeply felt and cheap, so
ephemeral, what were we doing in
the hideout when the boy shipped in, we had
drinks, we had cornbread and pot liquor in
the shed, had fried snake and old potatoes,
it startled us, all that steam and bother.

A day longer than a day

A day longer than a day–
water under a piling,
plying sand and silt away
till everything is water
and sky–heat lightning,
ponderous clouds.
How off the track the wheel
of other lines, the little you
the big one orbits round,
the last lost creature
In the spirit jail.

 

 

Encounters

noaa old mag lightning multiple rszd

sci fi haiku

shiny vibrating
cylinder hovers above
woods, animals freeze

luminescent craft
buzzing fucks up radio
trucker prays in field

women driving home
stunning light, vehicle swarmed
tiny humanoids

teenagers camping
superfast spacecraft arrives
drinking and loud sex

tall frilly spacemen
emerge from haystack-shaped ship
police call it in

Encounters II

noaa old mag lightning multiple rszd

more sci fi haiku

Midnight. At the barn.
Dogs and cows agitated.
Low rumbling disc.

Buzzing. And whooshing.
First thought it was the neighbor.
Big humanoid.

Was out mowing yard.
Earth erupted. Massive ship.
Flew off to the north.

Reflection in pond
like five big moons with red lights.
Lifted up the boat.

Only the moonlight,
everything blue, it was
shaped like a cigar.

Set down in pasture
right yonder. Shook and shimmied.
Never seen the like.

It called in my sleep.
Not my name, something in me.
Irresistible.

 

 

 

Encounters III

noaa old mag lightning multiple rszd

   more sci fi haiku

commercial airplane
paced by glowing cigar
30,000 feet

students on spring break
independently report
looming pie-shaped craft

three truckers report
red elliptical objects
hovering above

man shoots pistol at
bright object circling his car
misses, passes out

two men are fishing
lusterless craft in the sky
pulls them up inside

bright cone-shaped object
glides leisurely through the trees
hunters astonished

physics professor
daughters, dogs on camping trip
huge disc flashes by

glowing craft descends
into eucalyptus trees
cats in a circle

 

 

The Same Three Steps Over And Over And Over

ZuNuz!

Two monkeys at the Braneshire Zoo have become psychotic from living their lifetime in captivity with each other. Mikey, 25, and Neena, 30 have been napping long hours and trashing their toys and walking the same three steps forward and backward over and over again. Dr. Rob Robb, animal psychologist and erstwhile marriage counselor has a plan for psychotherapy to save the primates from their madness. He plans to “vary their menus and give them unbreakable toys.”

vary their menus give them unbreakable toys vary their long psychotic unbreakable naps give them menus vary their together give them unspeakable boredom vary their psychotherapy save them from captivity

the       same       three       steps forward and backward and forward and backward same         three         steps same         same         three steps     steps     steps over over over over over over over over

save the monkeys from madness vary their menus and unbreakable toys save the monkey madness vary their primates and madden their menus save the monkeys from psychotherapy vary their madness and save the toys from the monkey step madness

GIVE THEM IMPOSSIBLE       TOYS GIVE THEM      PSYCHOTIC    MENUS GIVE THEM       UNBREAKABLE       BOREDOM GIVE THEM    A    LIFETIME     FORWARD AND BACKWARD IN   PSYCHOTIC CAPTIVITY     G  I  V  E     T H E     DOKTOR. A LIFETIME OF BOREDOM TOYS VARY THEIR MONKEYS     GIVE THEM UNBEARABLE     MONKEY     TOYS GIVE THEM     TOYS   OF   PSYCHOTHERAPY G   I   V   E     T   H   E   M THE BOREDOM OF A LIFETIME NAPPING TOGETHER

ZuNuz! UPDATE!

Two psycho monkeys at the Braneshire Zoo are the subjects of a novel form of therapy. The primates’ psychologist—who has already varied their menus and given them unbreakable toys—is now training them to thread needles in the hope that learning to sew will lessen the tedium of captive togetherness.

rhesus reversus mod 5    Neena (l.) and Mikey (r.) learning to sew!

vary their menus give them captivity toys vary their  l     o     n     g  monkey napping hours give them unbreakables vary their captivity give them umbrellas and psychedelic menus the same three steps over and over and over     and  over again and again and again

S1: I feel so fuckin’ bad about this. You know, we really were negligent in not noticing their distress sooner. I thought they were fine until people kept asking where the ‘dancing monkeys’ were. I guess despair may look like dancing to some people. But it’s not dancing. S2: I kept trying to explain to the reporter–yes, the one with the whole-body reptile tattoos–that Neena and Mikey are not “psychotic” and that interventions for stereotypy are not “psychotherapy.” But she said, “Look, nobody will read something like “Monkeys Lose Hope,” but everyone will read “Psycho Monkeys.” S1: Do you think she’d go out with me, I mean, if she got to know me better? S2: She also asked me if the obsessive stepping thing might be some form of primate culture, like yam-washing. Oh please.

____________________________ Inspired by an article about three polar bears by Steve Newman, “Earth Week,” 1 April 1989 The San Francisco Chronicle altered image; original from http://awionline.org/lab_animals/rhesus/pho80-92.htm

Still

iphne gulf shores  oct 2013 114 RAIN RSZD

Down on the coast, the smell of the rain arrives before the rain does, its shadow moves under the water, it’s the dark with a fluorescent light inside it, an x-ray of the part of you that’s like the Milky Way.

Where were you when I was there? One day like another, drowsy, hot, the mind off somewhere with a sand bucket, unsupervised. Floating in the ocean stretches you out till you are bodiless. You forget it’s the same place you saw stingrays gliding up inside a tall wave before it broke.

I sat inside my life like it was mine. I was only waiting for your arrival until waiting became not knowing where you were. After that, waiting became knowing that your not coming meant you were staying away. Then there was all kinds of knowing things I didn’t want to know.

When we used to write letters, there was something of yourself you gathered up to send, it wasn’t even in the words sometimes, it was like opening up the thing that’s solitary about someone when they are thinking, you could enter in to it, you could fold it up and carry it around, open it up and marvel at the little creatures inside. That was what treasuring some absent someone felt like. That was what the past felt like till I knew better.

Driving into town, seeing somebody’s boat up in the front yard where the last hurricane left it, everything about the place askew. Thinking it could be that someone just finally gave up on it and left. Then thinking that even that wreckage could be a sanctuary for someone’s tenderness, someone could be in there asleep in someone’s arms, the smell of his skin like a balm.

I remember one day taking clothes down off the line before a storm and having to chase down a shirt of yours the wind got hold of–it made me laugh, all the world was alive. If someone had told me then that that would be my happiness in life, or that my happiness was already over but I didn’t know it yet, I wouldn’t have known what that meant, it still would have been just another day like all the days I loved you, that it might not be still wouldn’t cross my mind.

How we loved our paradise

How we loved our paradise of silks and breezes,
noisy water in the distance, comestibles nearby,
libations, sleeping in whatever god’s pajamas and
sneezing their incensey perfume, how we pawed
through things and went without shoes, you tied my
hair in a knot and tried to throw me off the roof, oh
how we laughed, we were so good at laughing, we
were so not good at everything else except perhaps
sleeping, and sex, oh we rode those magic carpets
bomblets whistling down to left and right and in the
hazy distance a sheathy zeppelin gliding whale-like
through air you could breathe up there if you were up
there but we were down here and the long holiday
was becoming a not holiday, a kind of anti-fetish, oh
everything was just so nonetheless, the sky the color
of a stone, you polished my shoes for me and sent
me off to look for work, oh how I looked for work and
trudged from till to till how distant our paradise then
as I ironed my iron-worn skirt, when nothing I did
was good enough and there wasn’t even any sex, I
started forgetting about that somehow, to my
consternation, I recall, oh we weren’t laughing then
or even speaking and all the doors that would be
slammed had been slammed and there were no more
words, the look I caught on my face passing a mirror
was like death like something had slammed into my
head and lodged there and I’d have to wobble about
wincing like that with it forever, like some alien thing
had crawled up inside my life to brood—out out out
I’d say but everything was rushing in, rushing into all
the troughs and hollows flooding corridors and
floating the lamps and how I longed then how we
longed separately for our easy long ago days when
we didn’t sleep on ice and didn’t faint not very often
or just fall out with grief all the lost people and all the
lost things and weariness oh the weariness what a
weary weariness it was, so so weary, we wore muu-
muus and overalls and accidentally took our daytime
meds one night oh what a night that was–pacing
waiting sleep never coming then the day arrived like
coming down from lsd without having had any of the
fun that was so like things then, everything was
aftermath without having any of the before until we
forgot about before and there in our forgetting a new
world erupted in the midst of things, one in which we
were suddenly gallant and vaguely tipsy with
all that forgetting but not really caring much at all
after all falling in our boney way into our cushy scroll
the shreds of all our thoughts like bedding in some
short creature’s cage oh how all hinges were loose
then how we rolled this way and that looking for the
thing inside that was like a counterweight,something
anything to outweigh suffering or trick it into
shuffling off bye now and don’t come back but we’d
forget that too from minute to minute we were good
then at forgetting forgot our keys forgot to put on
our outdoor shoes forgot how we had once hated
each other and ourselves forgot in fact all the years
intervening between about 25 and then whenever
then was, forgot, forgot, forgot,and there we were—
the people we would always be, every moment like
bobbing up for air in the ocean on some bright blue
day with its frightening horizon where all time stops
but still not like the last day on earth though maybe
a bit like the last but one, suddenly this
spaciousness in which nothing much was expected to
happen, so anything could.