Ron Androla

with a tear in my eye don't be a pussy androla mcneilley says it isn't so unusual a state death words & reason needless completely needless nothing of human sensation the feeling of a great direct imagistic poem, say one of the most visually vivid poems you ever experienced, continuously & forever felt that's it tripled & tripled & tripled then one is left with one's own face nobody else sees one's mind see one's face that moment of moments ascension is glory ********************************************** flesh connected minds to look at men look at women look into the face of a silver fox envision skin of age, too much time in air see infant as an organic electrical ball see fish behind filmy far-sightedness gaze over yr shoulder eyes of salmon hovering above river rivulets after they've flapped back into green bubble depth eyes of salmon hover there gnats & mosquitoes & spores of trees & weeds form of our body & obvious biological adaptation but the brain of the creature does not contain existential answers insofar factual cosmology is concerned thus skin is brain dripping down bone double-stem human flower with wet eyes ********************************************** nothing much partly sunny probably 80 in the center of afternoon latin drum music & high-hat swish of cars i chew sesamev & cheese snack sticks with toothpaste tasting dentures fingers smelling of aloe lotion & new goat-skin i rubbed my djembe better pop better deeper thud lance informed me it's best to get the head hot to the touch by sun or fire to treat that skin like one's own skin skin to skin like ann my love we can imagine me playing around a rainbow-gathering bonfire i don't think so this has nothing whatsoever to do with hippydom or coolness to find the beat of human life not dancing girls tripping in twenty- first century national parks under the pines rather consider slaughter brief flashes of perceptual awareness say a baby giraffe & a circling lion the sound of that ********************************************** the desperation of girls how horrible females must confront the blackness & blankness of death. men seem more suited to eyeball the end of existence, hard & cruel we realize the crass amerikan jungle & jackals that sprout from friends, we expect aloneness in a ulysses way. but women are natural liana of sharing, soft, sensitive young mothers screaming & crying & an infant again; certain innocence in the very psychology of femininity not simply social etiquette or training. i am thinking of my own mother in her early 20's & there i was in the dark kitchen eating an oreo with her in our pajamas. her breath is strong & beats of future, pulses & spreads upon the liquidity of time.

[Poetry]            [Prose]            [Gallery]            [Home]