songanddancegirl

"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

O Sister

a downbound train is running through my veins

due to a central nervous system glitch   let’s face it

it’s a bitch  being me at present   my allies have bailed

+toothpuff has filled the vacuum

 

my dentist’s diabolical plans for me  beckon   I will

arrive at the appointed time  +larry will anoint the

goddamn fistula  with oil

 

my fucking cup runneth over

__

 

 

Winter 2020  ..a kadouchas by any other name..

brainsalad surgery

went for 1st covidtest  where a small pharmacist in braids

brandished a small q-tip  it was barely shoved  i would call it

a more  tentative placement  so why are all the drones getting

brainraped at drive thrus?

 

leaving the masses  dazed  fugued  +more confused

(could this be why they lose their sense of smell?) dogs

who lose their sense of smell  sleep where they defecate

perhaps our fugued leaders do too?

 

let’s face it  words do not mean what they used to   take

lockdown   please take it  i.e.., take my wife  please take her  (henny youngman)

lockdown now means: go forth and multiply the sunking virus🔆

go especially to unventilated  BIGBOX  stores

 

once there  hoard toilet paper in direct proportion to your

reading  on the bullshit meter   if poet sounds a bit testy  she is!

now tested  +oh so covidclean?  we are taking a wait+see policy

**(should i have it u will all be required to isolate)

 

while just today  my ancient mother was arrested for seduction   sedition

when she walked in a dark  construction ridden  hallway  as walking

is NOT allowed  for old depressed bats  in congregate care settings

battered by 9 months of solitary

 

walking papers for the manager please?  he who prevaricates  even on a

word like mandatory !  inglorious big brother   he +barrelchested  Ford

put  1984  to shame

 

yet we vegetate   all orwellian +seethe   down with dumbfuck managers  

premiers  + doublespeak in general  + lardy cowards with yellow hair

+ lying dogs who sleep where they..

 

u all still there?

__

 

 

Winter 2020     **reading this shit can be hazardous to your health

i didn’t call him daddybird for nothing

 

at 7 i had the strongest desire to catch a bird   father said:

take a dish towel +a salt shaker  +sprinkle salt on its tail

u cannot imagine how close i came   inching along on my

girlbelly

 

this bit of wisdom i found in a hassidic tale  some 40 yrs. later

father a hassid!   my ass   what i caught  was the desire to lay

quietly  for lengthy periods  in damp grass  alone   in zazen

bird-meditation    waiting

 

and waiting  is what father was really teaching me

no  the squirrel who fell from the roof  is not at the zoo little birdgirl            yet i wait

maybe father somehow knew  that one day i’d have waited 31 yrs.

+counting  to see him  it gets easier i guess  not as hard as in

the first 90 days  when bellycrawling  doesn’t begin to describe it

 

waiting now too   for the final 3rd to unfold   where a bird in the hand

would be  the rising   particularly on the beach  where father’s stallion

is known to graze   + the light at the end of the tunnel is a pair of

greenish-blue eyes

__

u just wait  

i will catch that bird  

find that beach

 

 

Fall 2020  ..the old boss..father’s doppelgänger..

y’all familiar with winter flies?

 

i am fearless  except re: the things my mother

feared when i was womb-ridden

 

the beast

retorts

bugs

going bugs (ie., i don’t want to end up in the bughouse) 

tall dark strangers on darkened streets who chase young girls

+grab them between the legs

 

imagine the brave involved  in approaching a fly

trapped in my house  (need some freedom karma asap)

scooped him in a covidkleenex   ferried him to the roof

 

said fly  said:

this is not my house  this is not my wife

who is this bitch?  i better run for my life!

 

with that  i snatched back the under appreciated freedom

+squished the sucker between my fingers  i suspect it will be

a long winter   covid-caged +bugs

__

 

 

Winter  2020

 

 

the final cut

 

THE PACIFIC OCEAN !  IT’S THE PACIFIC OCEAN  !

bookend dream  to the man with a giant baldhead   and

megaphone-mouth  bellowing:  SECOND HALF OF LIIIIIIFE !  at 36

which in judaism is  double chai  old cabbalist lore   gore

 

i’d consulted a rabbi  bill maher’s doppelgänger  who stank

 

of mould kasha herring pig  not in a goodway  he was my sensei’s

rabbi   the guy who left 16 needles in husband’s  thigh  shoulder

buttcheek   +later when he undressed for candlemas  there was

another in his crevice  he still leads with this  at times      (hey i didn’t give birth to him)

 

acupuncture  my ass

 

last night’s dream   what can it mean?   go west old woman?

newly shorn  sacrificial+lamb  hair was a complex red   for some

30 yrs +more  now a neighbour shouts: oh you so rock ‘n’ roll

with spanish inflection

 

as i  with the courage of a flea  come down to Lake O  to find

the Pacific Ocean?  but this particular transformation is gonna

require a plane  balls  +a deep cutting of strings  yet here i sit

spewing words  all cassandra-deep  +blue

__

 

 

Fall 2020  ..for Sonny Lee Atkins..the apartment cat…now calling the Pacific Ocean home..!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

oh the horror

 

we talk about blocks  about anxiety  i check the

Iowa Writer’s Workshop site  $50,000+  annually

i think i can get in   i don’t believe in writer’s block

+i can spin words  into gold  (gold jerry  gold!)

 

Rilke gestated the duino elegies for 10 years

so what was he doing  instead of dragging words

dark+bloody from his loins?  smoking pot drinking gin

 

reading the duinos  u can see  that he needed a

decade  to cram angels+archangels  by the tens

of thousands   onto the head of a pin

 

so did he believe the voices up in castle duino?   (dead with final poem  at 49)

you’re lazy

you’re bored

you have nothing to say

you’re washed up  +ugly

 

hell no  in those ten years  Rilke stoked his immortality  but for me

sitting Kurtz-like on the river of brokendreams  the wordcemetery

beckons   a bog    poet bogwoman  and the word feckless appears

in the gator’s mouth    along with poet’s black toes

__

 

..could we handle that dumb thing, or would it handle us? I felt

how big, how confoundedly big, was the thing that couldn’t talk,

and perhaps was deaf as well. I had heard Mr. Kurtz was in there..

(Heart of Darkness  Joseph Conrad  1902)

 

 

Fall 2020

..but, oh those nights- those nights when the infinite wind eats at our faces..

and the nosing beasts scent how insecurely we’re housed in this signposted World..

do you still not know it?   (Rilke  First Elegy  1912)  

 

your sense of humour+your rugged goodlooks

didn’t u think anyone loved u?  lucinda moans

lake charles drawl  throaty    mr. marty  today’s

the day of the dead  + i just saw a flash of your

imp grin   riddleresque   +provoke

 

felt your breath too  blowing ru’ach in my face

spiritworld pressed up against us today  hey  i’m

coming to mexico for february+march  will stay til

april   if we get along

 

i’ll come every year

every day

 

I’m coming

_

 

Fall 2020

2nd coming

heard thumps overhead   rushed up to roof

+there was bigbro   2 yrs. dead   flopped on

his side  looking way better than when i’d

seen him last

 

florida hospice   going fast   and fast is a

relative term   we brushed him off  +he

regaled us  with tales of the crypt

 

ape it’s not what u think!  lunch is 

5x the price  +the shrimp are NOT the size

of your arm  but otherwise it’s fairly  hospitable  

 

there was this one guy who insisted he was

my brother   but they’re both still alive  so what

kind of jive was he talking?          unless

__

 

..generally he finds the secret not worth knowing..

(Heart of Darkness  Joseph Conrad  1902)

 

 

 

 

Fall 2020  .. hey  can’t we get them some bigger shrimp? ..

i say joe i gotta go

my attendance at 5 deathbeds  confirms

that the throes  they ebb  into a fabulist peace

a release so gentle  it makes birth  that garish

bloodbath !  an unquiet grotesque

 

which

of course

it is

 

not so  the birthing of death  no forceps   (just those prying sister’s fingers off of u)

here there is a low swinging  to the wailing

of those who are losing u  who do not see

that u are just over yonder    waiting

 

so don’t u weep

don’t u moan

and

DON’T  wish them back

fer chrissakes

 

get a life

__

 

..she could still see, feel, his mind darting, and darting..

(William Faulkner  Light In August  1932)

 

 

 

Fall 2020  ..long may u run .. Marty Atkins.. May 19, 1946-October 21, 2018..

..is waiting.. and darting..

don’t ask

 

it must be  that the twilightzone  has split open

+those GIANTS peering over the town  (did u see that episode?)

a couple in a 1950’s convertible roll into a quaint

town  it is empty  even the kitchen drawers are fake

 

well those giants loom overhead   as i negotiate with

bureaucrats for my old mother’s freedom   in the

nowapocalypse     LET MY MOTHER GO!    my voice

all moses +shrill   *(not the 1st time i have tried to free her)

 

CHOMP CHOMP   now deep inside the stinking mancavity

of a giant   it smells of moss  mingled with fecal  +oldcovid

about to be shat out?    birthed?

 

or  maybe i’m in Woody Allen’s sex flick  inside the spermatron

where i am about to experience conception  fer chrissakes!  it

smells like salt  + tastes like slave

__

 

..born into this..into a place where the masses elevate fools  into rich heroes..

born into this..pissed on by this.. made crazy and sick by this..

(Charles Bukowski  Dinosauria, we)   

 

 

 

Fall  2020  ..autopilot is your friend..

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