Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

my throat is my thumb is my ticket
my private plow - my prison pump - my outta here brick glove
it matches my hat feather and my hammer trousers,
the ones I wear for chasing the goats off the potatoes
else they will pocket them and hop a train with an engine eye
and when they reach the next town they will trade potatoes for umbrellas
to break the branch where the brain is bottled as an oven parcel
that some tend carefully, brushing each hair into place every night,
nothing left to the wild
and no camera girls allowed

I think I get it but maybe I don't either way
it is poetry to my ears
yeah

I probably don't get it either - I never know what's going in the chambers - #8 birdshot or double ought buck ... all I care about is when I pull the trigger I just want to see some shit fly ...

BANGING POEM= always a pleasure
i loved it- chasing goat potatoes

Thx cs

Mingo, great stuff...Reminds me of the quick scenes as one rides by in a vehicle,
like in a train...great rural imagery of the garden & farm animals. Also reminds me,
just a tad, like e. e. cummings.

Thx Steve

Like Dylan Thomas's poems in that I don't quite get the theme but love the poem anyway.

Thx, Terry -

I got a lot out of that poem, I just did not want to burden you with it.
a very nice poem to read as my head immersed in the twenty-four/seven news feed ...of generals and camera girls,

contemporaneous 'mindless chatter'™ from here on down—

thinking of camera girls
where the hell is Mary Pickford when I. . .



we got a poor old marine corp general being crucified in the press because he called some silly little chica camera girl— "sweetheart" in an email.
that;s a pretty rotten crotch.

that's all I just wanted you to know how I felt about it. bbut



I wish I was Douglas Fairbanks
thanks for writing mingo