Fast Day 165 July 31 2010 {The Uncertainty of Soccer}

The Uncertainty of Soccer

Sun Chopper with long hair runs, streaming like a breeze;
Sandwich Girl collides with him again... and again;
Snail Kid, climb Mount Fuji, but slowly, slowly,
Giacometti Leg, Pablo's Bathers, Demoiselles d'Avignon
and Bearded Miro, Pollack Spit and Arp Nose:
Mayan Ferlinghetti, Popeye, Sheer Pony Ass, surreal;
Max Ernst collage of running boys and girls...  and tattoos.

Run, slicers of the sun! Run, max quanta ! Kick neutrinos !
Run through all the levels and the states of being !
Run to your civil war ! Kick your way into the maze,
labyrinth of woodland god, disguised as bush of ghosts !
I hear the vuvuzela of my faith and parents !
I see the spider-goalie spin and guard his web !
Sun Chopper smiles: surreal panic erotic Magritte !

---

notes:

written after watching a soccer match on Belle Isle, Detroit

on Saturday, the date of record.

we also discussed the destruction of the Constitutional
and Enlightenment view of Man by the recent Supreme Court
decision setting Corporations up as "individuals"
equal to men and women.

More like ideas to be worked on later:

Surrealist paintings,

Amos Tutuola,

films of del Toro...especially Laberinto del Fauno

Spanish Civil War and civil wars in general

The young who will fight the wars...

Fast Day 94 March 21 {Marcy Forgot the Doritos}

This Super Bowl Sunday Marcy
Forgot To Get Doritos


the road runs above the quilt of fields
and cool whisps of fog are the batting
of this Super Bowl Sunday from dawn to dusk;
from lehigh to dresden is but a hen's race
and we'll be at the convenience store soon
to get doritos marcy fergot to buy -
she's only twelve years old - and some beer and smokes.

we wish the damned fog would lift, and the weather
would get warm; it hasn't been warm since oooh-8
and 'lectric bill run way too high
and consumer's cooperative power is mighty happy,
making money like the bank of han'over fist;
we can't make out the lights at brewster's store yet,
damn photon-pinchin' miser!

oh, the store is warm, is warm, and ole brewster's too!
and we're buzzed in the aisles of delights
and delicacies, see a packet full
of smoked oysters- imagine- smoking oysters!
like we'd eat in New York City - if we ever wanted.
and caviar at thirty bucks a snifter full;
no bigger than my chewin' tobacco tin!

great panoply of groceterías
whither flow the aquaducts of beer-belly:
jim crow an' old grand dad an' famous grouse,
and it doesn't ever cost much more than that!
we spaced out and didnot want to leave.
brewster got a funny look, and asked if we're ok?
the colors of the jujubes boxes were like eyes of newt!

brewster said, it's best time you'd be goin' an' kin
ye drive yersel'? we had the munchies and feared
the constant weep of rain and dark of clouds.
we looked for brother bill to come running across the
far fields, newly resurrected, his chest hot and
steaming with life, but no one came across them
fields no more...spittin' with life's full fury!

the roads piss out a marijuana fog from lungs
empty of all except the cancer,
and candles light the empty houses' windows like elmo's
fire, gleaming points of golden coins upon the eyes;
there be broke down tractors rustin' in the fields,
where willows rattle and rasp like hands o' glory... drove
back home for the superbowl- damn, fergot the doritos!


notes:

groceterias: grocery stores
bank of han'over fist: a bank making money hand over fist
a hen's race: not very far
jim crow and old grandad: cheap whiskies; the first is actually 'old crow'
famous grouse: moderately priced scotch
hand o' glory: hand of glory from the dark arts

Fast Day 58 July 10 2008 {Golfing on One's Birthday}

A Desert Oasis

GOLFING ON ONE'S BIRTHDAY


Plans were made for morning golf.
Came next day, and we enrolled
into that strange order of protocol
where each of us obliterates
our intimacy of ball and tee,
creating a vector distance
with smooth and fluid stroke.

Gradually gathering momentum,
we recognize our oasis:
the hedge of trees,
the necklace of aquamarine,
the expanse of sand;
flying hymenoptera
with holographic wings
in and out among the thistles
where we golf.

We come here like our ancestors
who walked from Asia across
the Bering Strait revealed,
stopping on the way to golf
the neo-ice age course;
this migration we gladly trek
from sun-baked streets
to this implacable
and palpable green.
Silence and friendship, sun and water;
and golf is the ephemera bloom.