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Poetry Potluck

One Shot Wednesday

Somewhere there's a girl for me

MAYBE hanging out in a TREE

one day I'll just look up

and THERE she'll be...

And she will not be Miss America,

though she may be dedicated to world peace--

and she doesn't care for fancy cars,

or closing down the bars,

and she will have no scars,

though there may be a small tattoo

that isn't readily visible...

And she will not be Miss America,

though she may have a bikini wax--

and she will be outrageous,

but not contagious,

and she will dig Steely Dan

and love me for who I am...

And she will not be Miss America,

though she may have some type of marginal talent--

like tying a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue,

or spitting her gum farther than anyone.

And she will be hip and sassy

but not too classy

and her eyes will be a trap door you fall into

coming face to face with the Mad Hatter.

And she will say things like: "Did you ever find a penny

that came out of your dog's butt?"

(Hold onto that--it's a lucky one!)

And she will not be Miss America,

though she may be at her best being under dressed--

and she will be all natural up front

for even a little sag is better than the drag

of learning "first hand" that her statistics are inflated.

And she will eat finger food with a fork,

and fork food with her fingers,

how the scent of her lingers...

And she will not whack off

all of her hair on a whim,

thinking that she will look like Halle Berry--

when in truth, like most,

she would more closely resemble Mister Spock--

what a shock!

Oh, the girl for me is somewhere

maybe lost at sea...

how will she ever find me?

She's looking for a poet,

but doesn't know it--

a man with a kind heart,

kind of an old fart,

looking for a new start...

And she will not be Miss America,

but she will pray and she will weep for America--

now I lay me down to sleep in America,

where beauty's only skin deep in America,

and magazine smiles can't conceal

the bewilderment that we feel

at having tossed off one King George

only to be saddled with another--

then lo and behold...we got ourselves a BROTHER!

And the girl for me will see through all the lies, and alibis

for she will be wise, but won't show it,

and she will be beautiful, but won't know it,

and she's out there somewhere looking for a poet

who thinks he may have already blown it--for good.

Oh, the girl for me is somewhere....

maybe hanging out in a tree--

one day I'll just look up

and there she'll be...

Yeah, I think THAT will be the girl for me.

Poetry Potluck

Timoteo--age 6

In this season

So tender and mild

May you once again

See the world

Through the eyes

Of a child

One Shot Wednesday

DESTINATION MOON

Author note: WATER FOUND ON MOON (recent headline)

Previously, ice (probably massive amounts of it) was detected at the moon's poles.

One Shot Wednesday

When I was seven I sent in a coupon from the back page of a magazine.

It said SIGN UP NOW TO BE ABOARD THE FIRST ROCKET TO THE MOON.

They left without me in "69--an oversight for which I've forgiven them.

Now, they tell me there's ICE on the moon...

do you know what that means?

We'll establish colonies, shop in underground malls,

figure skate in the sea of tranquility.

Oh, can we go ma, huh mama, can we go?

When I was sixteen I was convinced I would solve the mystery

of the universe, as I cussed and manhandled the pinball machine

in the pool hall that was more home to me than home.

A brilliant lad was I,

the apple of my very own eye,

as I watched it winking back at me from the mirror.

Now, I behold that celestial sphere

and perceive the image of...what?

There's ice on the moon--

we must determine what this means for children of the ghetto

and poets who expire too soon.

We are the only species on a quest for meaning...

and when we find none we proclaim this lack of meaning

must be indicative of something!

I'm searching for my identity--

did you see it pass by?

I had it once upon a time--

butcher, baker, candlestick maker...

and I wonder why we're all so quick to identify

with something other than our common humanity.

And it must be a trick of the eye that from a vantage point on the moon

we can discern no countries...

yet here, even in Death Valley, we can see them all quite clearly.

And as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death

we will be like Evil Kneivel--

rocket jockeys shooting the gorge to glory!

And as the earth rises--an imposing blue pelota swimming in space--

will you sip from your can of Mountain Dew

and say, "Been there...done that?"

When I was twenty-three I saw my soul stripped naked

as the world of matter disintegrated around me

and I knew I was onto something...

but something still eludes me.

There's ice on the moon...

can we go ma, huh mama, can we go?

When the wild animals are gone can we go?

When the cities are ablaze can we go?

When the television watches YOU can we go?

And I wonder how life will be--

Sea of Tranquility or Ocean of Storms...

Lake of Dreams or Marsh of Decay?

There's ice on the moon

blood in the streets

tears in my eyes

salt in my tears...

a remnant of our life in the sea.

And where have our instincts gone?

We, the dinosaurs of devolution

sinking slowly back into the slime

and all the time asking "why?"

And what do you suppose predisposes us

to give or not give a damn?

There is a memory hidden deep in my mind...

an image of that first amphibian that washed onto dry land

and took its first halting stride--one small step for creature--

a giant leap for creature kind.

I was there when it gazed up at that incandescent orb

and wept at the wonder of the thing.

There's blood on the moon

ice in our veins

pain in our hearts--

and somewhere in the night the voice of Marvin Gaye still echoes:

What's Goin' On? What's Goin' On?

And the earth is asking one question:

Do we love her enough...to leave her?

And I think of how we demonized the Russians for decades, for their ideology.

The "Evil Empire."

Now we may cheer for them at skating competitions--

their ideology has spun closer to ours.

When we define evil as that with which we are in conflict

then how shall we speak of the conflict within ourselves?

A cat knows how to be a cat.

We must LEARN how to be human.

And it COULD be a trick of the eye

that we see a man in the moon...

or is it just that we recognize our own reflection...in everything?

ROMANCE IN ALL ITS GLORY

Poetry Potluck

HE SAID...

In retrospect, my life has been

a blue blur of contradiction

a rolling juggernaut of misjudgment

charging headlong through the rain

and pissing into the wind...

A constellation of calamity

chasing dust devil dreams

down a star speckled highway

in a last-ditch attempt

to catch the champagne

night flight to nirvana...

SHE SAID...

Well, HELL then...here's my phone number!

AZTEC DREAM

One Shot Wednesday

In an Aztec dream

we rode on a jungle wave,

did a double whammy

on a conga drum,

boomeranged to the boogie beat

of a hot marimba band

on a one night stand--

me and you

in the skunk funk

and the swamp goo.

In an Aztec dream

we climbed the Pyramid of the Moon,

you in your white negligee,

me with just a baseball cap

and my dangling

p

a

r

t

i

c

i

p

l

e

Ever the martyr,

you were offering yourself

to save the world

from massive drought

with that familiar pout.

In an Aztec dream

the wind was quiet

as the moon...

blue shadows fell

across your smile

as we ascended to the top

where the high priest waited--

his black eyes intent

upon some distant massacre.

(He was a postal worker

who only moonlighted as a high priest,

making his own supreme sacrifice

by working on Columbus day.)

In an Aztec dream

he took one look at you and said:

Sorry...we're only sacrificing VIRGINS today!

You caught me sniggering,

then slugged me in the gut,

and stormed down

those ancient steps

in that way

that you always do.

WALK IN THE PARK (for dog lovers everywhere!)

Poetry Potluck

Oh, we're walking in the park

cuz I promised not to bark

hi ho the merrio

we're walking in the park

Now she let go of the leash

so I can be released

hi ho the merrio

she let go of the leash

Oh we're having so much fun

cuz I just love to run

hi ho the merrio

we're having so much fun

Now I'm squatting in the grass

and it's tickling my ass

hi ho the merrio

I'm squatting in the grass

Now I'm pooping on the leash

and it's such a sweet release

hi ho the merrio

I'm pooping on the leash

Now she's coming from behind

and she don't know what she'll find

hi ho the merrio

she's coming from behind

Oh don't grab the leash right there

or you will get a scare

hi ho the merrio

don't grab the leash...right...THERE!