poet land

[revolutionrabbit]

the poet sat in the grand master window
and at 5 he went to Twilight Zone Land
it was called something else then
it was the place where they kept
the mouse a mick or sorcerer trick
maybe flying broom stick

at 6 he went to the alien cave
in his dreams or maybe it was A-bomb TV
his teacher blamed him for Uncle Willy
and the gum drops

back at five the kid hid in the space rocket ride
but not before the giant whale gobbled him
with the mouth like a cave opening
stalagmite teeth while baby mother watches
from her rail he looks over at her
and smiles into the gaping maw

teacher was somewhere on the other side
at the T zone land or dizzy land the crosses
of darkness were on fire and stars on the ceiling
of the fairy tale universe were burning and turning
into dwarfs and evil dipped apples that make snow
sleep in the white light box with twinkle bells
and 7 hells run around pirate island where the
fast food stands ware hippo skulls and Tucan birds
with big lemon yellow beaks talk in hoodoo

at 8 the child learned to read a sentence and sci fi
now seemed like a distinct possibility not knowing
what a poem was yet he never minded
he was somewhere between the railroad track out back
behind his little cracker box tracked house, remember
mick mouse and somewhere in the sky with giant junkie
letters stretching into fun-finity where the cactus
and the so high blue skies reflected mountain sun oranges
which also grew on the trees in his tiny yard

the other kids came out and rolled huge planet marbles around
on the blue chalk circled street on the wide black hard surface
that ran down the length of some direction pointing away from
the place where they lived and played and the gods barked
and cats stood on hind legs looking in the other direction
toward some other car ride on larger more distant zones of time
and space

the rocked ride lasted for his entire childhood into teen hoods
and hoods rose from checker board maps of marbles lost
and kingdoms of glitter and gold that cast sinister shadows
but this was when the science experiment show still beamed
out across the airwaves into living rooms where the giants sat
and contemplated newspapers with holes through them
so the print words on the big sheets were missing
and only the cartoons on the wall meant anything
looking past the holes in the funny pages

later the poet folded the window and placed it next to the poem
that existed in his head before they built the moon spaceship
but not before sugar cubes held the trip and life held the answer
this was all part of the yellow talking beaked bird other language
sounding made strange beeping noises and twinkle lights whirled
and they were back in the pee oh it land amusement parks while
gods barked and cats in gypsy costumes stood tall and looked far
away toward fun-finity future house world and tomorrow lands

and the desert sands was where the poetry books grew up
before the kid became a teen before 9 and 10 and 6 and seven
he wandered out in the direction of nowhere and nothing looking
for a rock that could tell him why aliens were in caves in the cosmos
and why poets speak another way altogether different from the Dads
and bongos existed before the writers of bongo words on the beat walls
and roads were on the beat walls that words sound like be bop and hip

teen cool land exists where vampire sexy goddess voids wink further out
and cat gods looked like jazz and Kafka beetles played rock a roll
why back when cool was cool and not cool was not cool and 7 11
rattle snakes and purple people eaters rode the highways tongues spoke
and smoked Egyptian diamond minds at the far out pads with lava lamps
and hookah pipes in the middle of a rug that ropes around the infinity 8
great jumping Hodads blow down the dirt path to zero lands beyond good
and being way past the grinning sugar cube forests and mars treasure maps

[stilltrucking]

Good work
it is all there