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WORSHIP DOG
for David Bromige
Worship,
Warship,
Wordship
"one ship follows another;
one word follows another;
one war follows another"
--Luis Garcia
some serious fucking parts of my brain, missing
spastic
"streams of world sleepy mowing in harvest-time, sowing and reaping for
growing field green watch the dreams of dreams in doubtful riot waves spent
and wind dead- seems trouble where here quiet is the world"
worship Dog
I think I know what I'll do
I think I will decide
to be happy
sitting in my porcelain garden
hollyhocks sculpting my sight
while I try to poeticize reality
to win this war waged in my brain
and stop the war waged in my name
I'm a speck on the earth
the earth
in turn, a speck in space
objects in my hundred-mile gaze
pulling away from what I designate
a gazebo, where two teenage girls
eat sandwiches on the steps
a pleasing visage of afternoon calm
also, a slap in the face
war begins with a slap in the face
a slap that has the precision of a jet fighter
firing missiles into my room
without disturbing the curtains
the slap begins with a broken promise
followed by harsh words, then a curse, then a blow
breaking my nose, blackening an eye
burning a car
as though I was a car
a car which would take you anywhere
down Interstate 280 to 92 East
getting off on 1st
going down a long hill
past the high school
I hear
"Republicans are good
for nothing."
two men debate in anger
the new candidates
frustrating business, smells
of winter, sound of cars
a muffler blown, laughter of girls, three girls, now
as though I was a girl
talking with two other girls
about taking a picture of themselves
pink, baby blue, white tank tops
heads together, deciding to go
for ice cream
a boy, fashion conscious
pants halfway down his ass
keeps tugging them up
ass and mid-drift
adrift in the uncertainty
Cookies, Brownies, Coffee
splayed on the side of a passing truck
followed by CFL tanker, USF Bestway freight express
as though I was a freight express
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Cotton Belt
Cushion Ride
For Fragile Freight
Great Northern
Great Northern
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
CottonBelt
Auto Pak
Cotton Belt
Auto Pak
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
Milwaukee
more cars, more pedestrians
a dog chasing a ball
"Odie, bring the ball! No, that's
not right. Get the ball!"
as though I was a dog
contour of wind making earth designs
at my feet, this activity in clear sky
haze around Mt. Saint Helens
visible between the trees over the stop sign
by the police station, lawn mowing going on
a convict in orange shirt, Odie still not
getting the ball, the hollyhocks
in the face of what I see
as though I was a Stalinist
Muriel Short is not short.
She is not tall, and she is not short.
She is about average height. A bit
overweight, but not overweight
in an unattractive sense.
as though I was true to form
it is this that
one means
it is this
that one
does
it is
this nose, dazzling in profile
that one
knows
She's to die for.
as though I was dead
you can spread my ashes
or leave me to be drug off by a mountain lion
use my thigh bone for a trumpet
and my skull for a cup
say, I was drugged off
a poetry junky
who enjoyed Billy Collins, his sad humor
poetry goes right to the point, he says to
read a poem each day in school
read it aloud without any obligation
to study it, just listen and wonder
"All it takes is one poem to get you hooked."
I saw the best minds of my generation
destroyed by madness, starving hysterical
naked, looking for an angry poem
old, beggared poets reading poems in bathrooms
Anslinger's prophesy come true
poets selling their nickel poems on street corners
THIS IS A POEM FREE ZONE
junk, that poem is junk
"Mommie, I read a poem today.
Do you think I'm hooked?"
The Salvation Army condemns the vice of poetry
Poets Anonymous meets in the church basement
My name is...
I'm a poet
I have always wanted to write the perfect poem
Today I will write it
It begins with the sun rising, the morning
Light creating the world
The morning light that I create
By raising the sun with my perfect poem
as though I was a god
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