an amerikan flag-draped coffin

in front of the altar
inside saint agatha's
church an old priest

in white robes
mumbles prayers
over the casket

of my
father.   i sit
in the front-pew,

stunned, in
a suit,
feeling airy

around my ears:
large, genetically-
evolved ears.

feels like dreams
going thru that
funeral

& a kid,
he's really a robotic united
states marine,

hands me a perfectly
folded triangle
of the amerikan flag

previously covers
the dark glossy wood
of my father's

eternal
rectangular
spot in eternity.

he is not
looking into my eyes;
the kid marine with the flag

i mean.
my dead father is
looking into my eyes.

when i split
from my house on raspberry
street i never open

the attic door
to get things i cram
in there, one thing

being
that particular
amerikan flag

& the five dried-
roses the under-taker
put in his smooth stone hands

signifying
the five
grandkids.

what remains
is this
poem.

me,
the grandkids,
a little memory,

& that
is
all,

that's
every-
thing.


a report from the front

it's always this way:  a cup of hot coffee,
my pipe, traffic across west grandview
rumbles within the walls of the apartment.

& here's me, in half-glasses,
sitting in a black chair
typing on a screen.

lighting a lighter
holding my breath
as long as i

can
then that
tongue-flapping

exhale
dust puffs from
edges of my eyes

dust
& caws
of crows

dug
into
thick trees

over-
looking lake
erie

my life's
work is
to say so

to describe
it all
for you --

you are
a number
of people,

a numb-
er of
people.

i just
rattle
away

smoking
a bowl
with afternoon coffee

& goddamn
poems
happen.


DON'T LISTEN

i once wrote a poem
titled don't
read this poem
& i read it out loud
at a couple of readings
years ago
it's a pretty gross
poem -- sexual
shock
because i WAS
shocked when
a girl i met
at the bar
was on her knees
like a slender
perfect pony
& wanted me
to continue
to fist-fuck
her
it was
her
idea
her
dream
her
memory
her
strange life
& life can be
entirely laughable
sick &
insane
some
of us
like it
that way
best
we are
all lurching
within dark
breaking
ocean
water
all we
are
is
time
an arc of
consciousness
like a
meteor
in infinity
finite selves
like tendons
wrapping
infinite forearm bone
of existence
bow
fucking
wow
we
dream
everything alive
say it
it's so
it's half a  human ear
falling
from
the mouth
of a
calico
cat
a piece
of puzzlement
in big
relevant
picture
god
waves
goodbye
at the
farm-house
doorway
of heaven
& cows
angels
moo

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