thanks SadLuckDame!...
so there is someone lurking around! cool...
you still have blinding basins
you came with notions of them
and poetry, not cowboy poetry
running cows in a desert is absurd
you look for a glaring fringe
that same dirt road interrupted
taking up again after the nonsense
the psychotic proportions of vegas
sure you’ll miss the buttered steak
whiskey plates for only $5.99
the disastrous flashing glory
but you’re convinced you will
meet yourself on a ridge
not sure which one
glaring tan gets bigger
the flashing lights wane
getting closer
the motel papers desert poem
near the gypsum mine
noon heat cooks the selenite range
ominous. sullen tuff, utterly beaten
stop at a small, dilapidated store
stock up: ice, booze, cheese, water
more water, let’s not have to dig
out there like a rat
down a rise toward a small outpost
splotch of green under a granite wall
radiance grows in the windshield
radiant, waterless sea
duck out of a dazzling oven
into a dim cave with beer
a couple slot machines
oasis before send off
they all stop here
trail hands, railroaders, miners
absurd pilgrims, exiled poets
sun-drunk four-wheelers
even speed demons
playa stretches out
a jet car went 763 miles an hour
on the playa once, set a record
the boom knocked a shot glass
off the bar
desert versus obsession
the playa effortlessly devours
such absurdity
noon heat cooks the selenite range
ominous. sullen tuff, utterly beaten
stop at a small, dilapidated store
stock up: ice, booze, cheese, water
more water, let’s not have to dig
out there like a rat
down a rise toward a small outpost
splotch of green under a granite wall
radiance grows in the windshield
radiant, waterless sea
duck out of a dazzling oven
into a dim cave with beer
a couple slot machines
oasis before send off
they all stop here
trail hands, railroaders, miners
absurd pilgrims, exiled poets
sun-drunk four-wheelers
even speed demons
playa stretches out
a jet car went 763 miles an hour
on the playa once, set a record
the boom knocked a shot glass
off the bar
desert versus obsession
the playa effortlessly devours
such absurdity
a few miles north of town
rocky path into talus slopes
named “guru road”
take the road
made by a guru, must be a guru
behind every mountain in nevada
master of the perfect bluff
on guru road
sculptures of stacked rock and sticks
painted flat stones, medium of choice
inscribed with idiosyncratic wisdom
zen goofs under burning sun
elvis with a cape made of beer cans
aphrodite with round pink rock tits
a hovel called “sage brush network”
old tv antenna juts out, aluminum tree
good for a little shade
inside the “sage brush network”
octagonal hut stood on pine poles
roofed in hog wire, sage thatching
wrapped by an odd, stringy net (work)
old, plastic TV faces cut into each side
“to change channel, turn head”
says a flat rock inside
dial canyons or a waterless sea
rickety wicker chair in the middle
savor the rake of raw breeze
pure light framed by old tv
good for a little shade
bought a little time
rocky path into talus slopes
named “guru road”
take the road
made by a guru, must be a guru
behind every mountain in nevada
master of the perfect bluff
on guru road
sculptures of stacked rock and sticks
painted flat stones, medium of choice
inscribed with idiosyncratic wisdom
zen goofs under burning sun
elvis with a cape made of beer cans
aphrodite with round pink rock tits
a hovel called “sage brush network”
old tv antenna juts out, aluminum tree
good for a little shade
inside the “sage brush network”
octagonal hut stood on pine poles
roofed in hog wire, sage thatching
wrapped by an odd, stringy net (work)
old, plastic TV faces cut into each side
“to change channel, turn head”
says a flat rock inside
dial canyons or a waterless sea
rickety wicker chair in the middle
savor the rake of raw breeze
pure light framed by old tv
good for a little shade
bought a little time
-
SadLuckDame
- Posts: 4216
- Joined: September 17th, 2009, 8:25 pm
Yes, I read it up, but I'm not often to say so. The way you write seems so solitary, that it's almost that I'd be intruding on a sacred silent desert. I feel that I'm almost just to watch the solitary figure, be intrigued, but not to interact, for it's not truly an interacting moment, not inviting, it's beautiful more in the lonely. If that makes sense.
Think snow, think desert, think one man with his thoughts. It'd be such cruelty to throw a woman into interrupting his introspection, for then it'd not be much introspection any longer, which is the art.
K, there, did the thing I was not to do, I'm superstitious...but keep on keeping on.
Think snow, think desert, think one man with his thoughts. It'd be such cruelty to throw a woman into interrupting his introspection, for then it'd not be much introspection any longer, which is the art.
K, there, did the thing I was not to do, I'm superstitious...but keep on keeping on.
`Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,' Alice went on...`when I saw all the mischief you had been doing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into the snow! And you'd have deserved it, you
little mischievous darling!
~Lewis Carroll
little mischievous darling!
~Lewis Carroll
thanks SadLuckDame, I appreciate your comments. I guess it is all a bit solitary, these spilling thoughts and observations from the quiet places over the last few years. I actually thought I might be done with capturing this hard, bright solitude, sometimes having to reach back quite a ways and capture the (lonely?) spirit of things I remember seeing. The trauma of losing both of my parents in a short span of time recently probably triggered the latest expressions, especially the harder edges of them, but yes, they were always there, just beneath the surface . . . thanks.
more stuff I found . . .
found walter cronkite on a rock
picked it up, there he was, reporting
but you get the last word
on sage brush network
don’t fuck around
make it heavy
“speak your mind, ye faithful”
“but please, lay off the end of days”
“no debt of factions charged to the collective!”
hey, not bad, preaching to the salt bush
“my friends, religion is compulsion!”
“I say war and poverty are religion”
“canonized, sacred to the species”
okay enough, no one hears it
guru gets the last word
first a little bourbon
limitless space beamed
through an old zenith set
old tv frames the dipper at one am
asleep on the rickety wicker chair, adrift
on the glow of all-night dragnet marathon
“now you listen and listen good, mister”
“marijuana is the flame, heroin the fuse
LSD the bomb. . . but I give them direction”
“mister, you couldn’t give directions
to the men’s room”
doubtful if joe could do that either
from inside a strange interrogation cell
but he had a point, the domino theory
give an inch, take a mile
let the tokers toke, and soon
they’re acid-crazed dogs with
murder and rape in their twisted eyes
lock up the brutes, don’t take chances
ah, satire in your sleep
in your chair with the tv on
under a ghostly galactic glow
part of the problem, snoring under
milky way’s angelic opalescence
the dipper piercing deep black
cassiopeia’s vainglorious W
closest stars tactile, bursting
faint flicker in the margins
inconceivable depth
lost track somewhere
brain was strangely busy
cronkite’s face turned up on a rock
“and that’s the way it is”
bonfires in the black sky
dry ridge, dry mouth
brain a little too busy
more stuff I found . . .
found walter cronkite on a rock
picked it up, there he was, reporting
but you get the last word
on sage brush network
don’t fuck around
make it heavy
“speak your mind, ye faithful”
“but please, lay off the end of days”
“no debt of factions charged to the collective!”
hey, not bad, preaching to the salt bush
“my friends, religion is compulsion!”
“I say war and poverty are religion”
“canonized, sacred to the species”
okay enough, no one hears it
guru gets the last word
first a little bourbon
limitless space beamed
through an old zenith set
old tv frames the dipper at one am
asleep on the rickety wicker chair, adrift
on the glow of all-night dragnet marathon
“now you listen and listen good, mister”
“marijuana is the flame, heroin the fuse
LSD the bomb. . . but I give them direction”
“mister, you couldn’t give directions
to the men’s room”
doubtful if joe could do that either
from inside a strange interrogation cell
but he had a point, the domino theory
give an inch, take a mile
let the tokers toke, and soon
they’re acid-crazed dogs with
murder and rape in their twisted eyes
lock up the brutes, don’t take chances
ah, satire in your sleep
in your chair with the tv on
under a ghostly galactic glow
part of the problem, snoring under
milky way’s angelic opalescence
the dipper piercing deep black
cassiopeia’s vainglorious W
closest stars tactile, bursting
faint flicker in the margins
inconceivable depth
lost track somewhere
brain was strangely busy
cronkite’s face turned up on a rock
“and that’s the way it is”
bonfires in the black sky
dry ridge, dry mouth
brain a little too busy
solar massive comes early
wake according to the sun
the guru set up a weather station
rock dangling from a cottonwood limb
“if rock is moving, wind is blowing”
“wet, it’s raining, white, it’s snowing”
no motion of any kind
only your own awkward footsteps
more flat stones appear on the trail,
“you are born knowing everything…”
“stomp out greed”
and a tipi made of willow branches,
“leave your hang ups here”
upon which things hang
symbols of oppression
sneakers, lighters
symbols
naked ridges, blazing sea
dwell in their own clarity
more sharp and silent than ever
you sneak back to town
order breakfast
the owner is telling a guy in a harley shirt
about a trail into high country sage perfume
“how long does it take?”
“how fast do you drive?”
the owner is far too animated
for 8 am in the middle of solemn quiet
the clock hands are too animated
you’re drifting nearby, understated
plate full of grease and haze
highest form of a hangover
like beaten hills adrift
on the far side
you’ll spend days out there
writing sun blast poems to themselves
with your melting ice, feasting
growing exhausted
not thirsty
you packed 63 gallons of water
the plastic jugs stick up everywhere
in the truck, yes god bless the truck
did you check the belts and bearings?
wake according to the sun
the guru set up a weather station
rock dangling from a cottonwood limb
“if rock is moving, wind is blowing”
“wet, it’s raining, white, it’s snowing”
no motion of any kind
only your own awkward footsteps
more flat stones appear on the trail,
“you are born knowing everything…”
“stomp out greed”
and a tipi made of willow branches,
“leave your hang ups here”
upon which things hang
symbols of oppression
sneakers, lighters
symbols
naked ridges, blazing sea
dwell in their own clarity
more sharp and silent than ever
you sneak back to town
order breakfast
the owner is telling a guy in a harley shirt
about a trail into high country sage perfume
“how long does it take?”
“how fast do you drive?”
the owner is far too animated
for 8 am in the middle of solemn quiet
the clock hands are too animated
you’re drifting nearby, understated
plate full of grease and haze
highest form of a hangover
like beaten hills adrift
on the far side
you’ll spend days out there
writing sun blast poems to themselves
with your melting ice, feasting
growing exhausted
not thirsty
you packed 63 gallons of water
the plastic jugs stick up everywhere
in the truck, yes god bless the truck
did you check the belts and bearings?
nothing but
rock and sky, lucid light
jah roots have a foothold in rock rhythms
reverberations turned low to fill up expanse
bathe it in desolation, ricochet off mesas
pulse transfigured, blown open, drifting
interior thunder
hard to believe it came from a tropical isle
reggae was trivial, the bouncy stuff they play
at beach casino at happy hour, plastic props
in festive pink drinks
and now, blown dub deconstructions
in the heat and grit of grinding bedrock
the lost tribes, children lost in the desert
in 2001 AD another god war flared up
hadn’t seen a big one since the 14th century
the screens piped it in, pale glow seeping
creeping ever higher into the hills
textbooks instantly rewritten
one almighty hurled a thunderbolt
at another, the usual thing
and the president mumbled
about a “religion of peace”
then turned the dogs loose
gods of wrath
wild heads on screens
glow filtered in dust and detritus
talus rubble, elegant bones in quiet defiles
miles of them, jealous gods, jumpy glow
advancing on corkscrew thermals
to haunt perfections of silence
wrath in every corner
unbearable stillness
enter jah roots
“hey gods I’m over here”
on rock and sky, muffled echo
interior thunder, immaculate subversion
rock and sky, lucid light
jah roots have a foothold in rock rhythms
reverberations turned low to fill up expanse
bathe it in desolation, ricochet off mesas
pulse transfigured, blown open, drifting
interior thunder
hard to believe it came from a tropical isle
reggae was trivial, the bouncy stuff they play
at beach casino at happy hour, plastic props
in festive pink drinks
and now, blown dub deconstructions
in the heat and grit of grinding bedrock
the lost tribes, children lost in the desert
in 2001 AD another god war flared up
hadn’t seen a big one since the 14th century
the screens piped it in, pale glow seeping
creeping ever higher into the hills
textbooks instantly rewritten
one almighty hurled a thunderbolt
at another, the usual thing
and the president mumbled
about a “religion of peace”
then turned the dogs loose
gods of wrath
wild heads on screens
glow filtered in dust and detritus
talus rubble, elegant bones in quiet defiles
miles of them, jealous gods, jumpy glow
advancing on corkscrew thermals
to haunt perfections of silence
wrath in every corner
unbearable stillness
enter jah roots
“hey gods I’m over here”
on rock and sky, muffled echo
interior thunder, immaculate subversion
emptiness is instinctual
in the third century, before faith was an empire
monks and outcasts sought the egyptian desert
sought solitude in the way of jesus and john
faith was more humble then
like jesus fasting in the desert
not yet legal in rome
seems monks and prophets
fade into the desert naturally
necessarily, to flee tyrants
diffuse clatter
elijah knew of a spring
out of corruption’s reach
if not a gentle murmur in his ear
vanishing stammer of vanquished walls
rattle and wane, down to your whoosh
john heard louder tremors
god would descend from the sky in terror
at any moment, to settle debts
in the third century, before faith was an empire
monks and outcasts sought the egyptian desert
sought solitude in the way of jesus and john
faith was more humble then
like jesus fasting in the desert
not yet legal in rome
seems monks and prophets
fade into the desert naturally
necessarily, to flee tyrants
diffuse clatter
elijah knew of a spring
out of corruption’s reach
if not a gentle murmur in his ear
vanishing stammer of vanquished walls
rattle and wane, down to your whoosh
john heard louder tremors
god would descend from the sky in terror
at any moment, to settle debts
in the beginning was rock
and vibrations of rock, time signature
riddle, middle of infinity rumbling
the big dog woofer grumbling
rolling big bass lumbering
yea verily
reverb careens from the valley of darkness
psalms of the heavy rain from walnut towers
consumed in cataclysms of holy rolling boom
rattle the room, can’t place myself in space
holy reformations on the face, of the deep
the word was dub, the word was with dub
the monster massive slowed an octave low
on the black edge of sunshine
rootsman on a big beat earth
rattling in star raked canyons, across plains
it came quietly at first, whole galaxies
in flickering pins on the firmament
painted constellations on the black
no sound found in black but boom
how much sound is a supernova
hear it with your own eyes
he met a parallel lover
she didn’t matter, didn’t do matter at all
he reached for her hand and space inverted
with a pop
heavens blew out, hurtled at terrible speed
into something like nothing, something like that
and black space blackens, clutch onto something
crucial mass is five hydrogen atoms per meter
anything less and it runs to ether
anything more and the yo-yo sky
blowout? or rubberband stars?
which came first? action? reaction?
bang, or implosion? matter, or space?
dark matter or light? warrior or the fight?
we pictured we at the center of things
and we are, the center of careening axes
as it were
and vibrations of rock, time signature
riddle, middle of infinity rumbling
the big dog woofer grumbling
rolling big bass lumbering
yea verily
reverb careens from the valley of darkness
psalms of the heavy rain from walnut towers
consumed in cataclysms of holy rolling boom
rattle the room, can’t place myself in space
holy reformations on the face, of the deep
the word was dub, the word was with dub
the monster massive slowed an octave low
on the black edge of sunshine
rootsman on a big beat earth
rattling in star raked canyons, across plains
it came quietly at first, whole galaxies
in flickering pins on the firmament
painted constellations on the black
no sound found in black but boom
how much sound is a supernova
hear it with your own eyes
he met a parallel lover
she didn’t matter, didn’t do matter at all
he reached for her hand and space inverted
with a pop
heavens blew out, hurtled at terrible speed
into something like nothing, something like that
and black space blackens, clutch onto something
crucial mass is five hydrogen atoms per meter
anything less and it runs to ether
anything more and the yo-yo sky
blowout? or rubberband stars?
which came first? action? reaction?
bang, or implosion? matter, or space?
dark matter or light? warrior or the fight?
we pictured we at the center of things
and we are, the center of careening axes
as it were
Last edited by mnaz on August 15th, 2010, 11:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
found an old mining offshoot
gear down, crawl up a granite spine
to a small shelf two hundred feet up
covered in backlit scrub, surprisingly
nothing else within sight is covered
the starved white flat, haggard ribs
complete nakedness
alone, with vista
you should shut off the truck
until you hear voices through the idle
look around in a panic
left the radio on
a signal flickered in from nowhere
from reno? can’t seem to push off
hit the off button, you’re entitled
and the others too
you and the erratic wind
warm air blasts down the mountain
out of dead calm, the truck wobbles
and the scrub sheds it with ease
nothing it hasn’t seen before
gear down, crawl up a granite spine
to a small shelf two hundred feet up
covered in backlit scrub, surprisingly
nothing else within sight is covered
the starved white flat, haggard ribs
complete nakedness
alone, with vista
you should shut off the truck
until you hear voices through the idle
look around in a panic
left the radio on
a signal flickered in from nowhere
from reno? can’t seem to push off
hit the off button, you’re entitled
and the others too
you and the erratic wind
warm air blasts down the mountain
out of dead calm, the truck wobbles
and the scrub sheds it with ease
nothing it hasn’t seen before
in the beginning was no beginning
dark, maybe light, garden shade unknown
and the universe was happy, no way to know
in the beginning was no time
until the big bang apple
and hands began to turn, winds hissed
deities and cosmic wreckage hurtled out
rock began to grind and magma rise
planets began to weather and spin
myths of space, the galactic spiral
and good and evil surfaced on
hideous gorgons
billowing skies
wind is emotion
spun itself into oceans
desolate mother sea on gothic rock
thrown crystal plumes, gargoyle crags
tatters and smithereens, mountains
dismantled one grain at a time
animal truth of annihilation
dark without edges
calm, seen from above
staring up at the overpass
you hope twinkle won’t toss
a lit cigarette on your home
dark, maybe light, garden shade unknown
and the universe was happy, no way to know
in the beginning was no time
until the big bang apple
and hands began to turn, winds hissed
deities and cosmic wreckage hurtled out
rock began to grind and magma rise
planets began to weather and spin
myths of space, the galactic spiral
and good and evil surfaced on
hideous gorgons
billowing skies
wind is emotion
spun itself into oceans
desolate mother sea on gothic rock
thrown crystal plumes, gargoyle crags
tatters and smithereens, mountains
dismantled one grain at a time
animal truth of annihilation
dark without edges
calm, seen from above
staring up at the overpass
you hope twinkle won’t toss
a lit cigarette on your home
the desert
burble and waver, dead land
grim silhouette across dead water
a bog of dead muck and gray sticks
in the dead of a pennsylvania winter
the mill, fearsome, hulking gothic ruin
rusted mountain with spears
how could we go wrong if we made steel?
freedom and limbs sacrificed to the plant
milestones eaten in molten punch clocks
gut it out, crank it out, ship it, fuck it
picture birthday cakes and bar fights
over nothing, fighting over crumbs
we used to build the damn things
pistons and carburetors, switches
cables and gears and gaskets
hoses hissing snake oil men
castle and crenellation
genesis and revelation
hauled rocks up the hill
rocks out of the ground
built pyramids, cathedrals
and pound for pound the legends
and bombs, got used to the sound
everything fought itself
rain fought its only sun
roads went south, deep south
soldiers clutching a song
riverbed ghosts
someone had to haul those rocks
and it was damn hot
burble and waver, dead land
grim silhouette across dead water
a bog of dead muck and gray sticks
in the dead of a pennsylvania winter
the mill, fearsome, hulking gothic ruin
rusted mountain with spears
how could we go wrong if we made steel?
freedom and limbs sacrificed to the plant
milestones eaten in molten punch clocks
gut it out, crank it out, ship it, fuck it
picture birthday cakes and bar fights
over nothing, fighting over crumbs
we used to build the damn things
pistons and carburetors, switches
cables and gears and gaskets
hoses hissing snake oil men
castle and crenellation
genesis and revelation
hauled rocks up the hill
rocks out of the ground
built pyramids, cathedrals
and pound for pound the legends
and bombs, got used to the sound
everything fought itself
rain fought its only sun
roads went south, deep south
soldiers clutching a song
riverbed ghosts
someone had to haul those rocks
and it was damn hot
Re: the motel papers desert poem
it's gonna take me a week to read alla this. but i've enjoyed what i've read so far. bravo, sire.
godless & songless, western man dances with the stuffed gorilla through all the blind alleys of a dead-end world.
-maxwell bodenheim
-maxwell bodenheim
Re: the motel papers desert poem
always wanted to do a long thread with many "variations on a theme." tried to do it a few times before, but never stuck with it. one was called "near the arizona line," and another called "POTUSA" (I have no real "staying power" for politics) . . . and now, this...
these are my latest prose turned into poems, so the extended descriptions get a little awkward and "chopped up" in places, but... not bad overall...
thanks, mindbum
yeah, I know, a lot to wade through. It was 27 pages when I printed it all out . . .
these are my latest prose turned into poems, so the extended descriptions get a little awkward and "chopped up" in places, but... not bad overall...
thanks, mindbum
yeah, I know, a lot to wade through. It was 27 pages when I printed it all out . . .
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