songanddancegirl

the covidvaccine+the doctor from mars

my unique identifier was  KMA  !  at the covid vaccine clinic

where i scurried just yesterday  every aspect was a test  test

your mettle  your herdishness  your commitment to not dying

dr. vanderbeeek was cheeky  rubbed my deltoid hard  so hard

that i went into ecstatic confessions  re: David Bowie on my tee

at one point v.beeeks hand slipped from the ubermassage   to

david’s face atop my left boob  (ew)  +our eyes met over germy

masks   later when i told a brother  he wondered if i’d gone crazy

likely the manic-y  delivery

OMG!  HE MASSAGED MY SKINTAG   AND THEN HE..

later when i returned home to husband  afibrulate +supine  with one eye

on the tv  he twitched spasmodically  to my tale of v.beeek’s slimfingers

+ tenderness       (*mums the word on his 10 calls to my cell today)

so  who among u would be surprised at this juncture  to see spaceships

descending   or horny doctors with crepey handskin     stroking??

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Winter 2021   ..would it kill u to put on a little Nivea?..

cowgirlblues

i asked father who his favourite cowboy was   (he was mine)

he said  Tom Mix   back in those days  i loved cowboys with a

passion too big for a small girl  but i did   Mark the rifleman’s

son visited my room of an evening   +when father took me to

meet him at maple leaf gardens  i swooned  +swanned around

like ginalolofuckingbrigida

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Tom Mix and his horse rode the shadow range, punishing evil-doers. 

But Tom never kissed the heroine. He seemed very much in love with

his horse.  (Al Purdy  1993)

Winter  2021

..daddy was way better looking than tom..

+would have highly approved of gina..

can u hear me hear u

have u heard of mindfulness meditation?   it’s a new religion

for the body/sensory dead  21st century humans  learning to:

see  smell  taste  touch  +hear   with alacrity

with slow  ness

with numinosity

with a pinprick  of passion

these folks are the living dead  not exactly zombies (they were once alive)

no  these drones are dead to  frissonosity  made dead by: tech meets fame

meets social media  (+now distancing)

so how will anyone know they’re alive post-covid?  when taste+smell loss  are

not signals of an impending mortuary visit   let’s face it   if u have to suck on

a fig  for 10 minutes  to know the ambrosial  u might as well start digging your

own grave

all work+no play  make the modern human  a dullwitted void   this has never

been my issue  quite the opposite  poets see purple  in fig-ecstacy   smell

earth  at 30 below   now masked  even the smile  is an autopilot reminder  of

the deadness in alive

post-covid   survivors will return to smiling vacantly   at every  tom  dick +hairy

while millions of dead  will have sewn-on smiles  like the ones on some people’s

masks    +we will remember the days when we woke up screaming

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How the noises stopped. And so did the terror. It was ended. But the 

memory doesn’t end. It stays, hovering on the edge of consciousness

where the beasts with onion heads may still be waiting. (Al Purdy 1993)

Winter 2021

on a dark manor hiway

their childhood homes are being sold  +they weep at roadsides

approaching 30  with simple grins   i remember that time  in my

prime   i’d moved on by then  living in semi-sin  with #1

but that house  sold on the free market  is nail-tethered   + in

dreams  when sailors are busy elsewhere  there is  the HOUSE

old uncle morty built   the emotionally crippled brother  of our

father

morty loved cigs +smokey scotch  died of throat cancer  after

spending 40 yrs. on a leather couch  in pj’s  but hey  i am not

morty’s keeper  + digressions bring night weasels

the HOUSE appears  all 1950’s+backsplit  but it is the garage

always the garage  that i find myself in  dustbin  broken cars

dead cigars  horsey accoutrements   daddy was a ramblinman

we found adoption papers there  (no not the asian bros)  up in

a trunk   +aladdin briefly fondled our redheaded friend ron  but

the genie in the trunk  rent a hole the size of  say   montreal

in the fabric of our nativity scene

+we still get dragged back there  where the dustgrime is perma

but we’re in the process of a massive clean up  sanitize the family  ghost

vaccinate the shit outta them him  +would someone throw out the

dead rabbit in the corner  fer chrissakes

i’d thought he’d fled!

the horror  the horror

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Winter 2020  ..he’s about to be born..

what light?

shit! it’s the spaceship  loud swoosh with zzhhh  outside my

window  at 4:13 a.m.   i knew they would come one day   too

much Neil Young at 14  ok  i know your minds are racing ahead  to probes

probing questions asked around my bed  led by one with

round head  all corona +spikey  (no not iggy)  why do people in

their late 90’s  keep the lights on 24/7    WHY?

injections of alien vaccine should u not be full of answers

one gormless guy with yellow hair says: this one was made in 190 days

is largely untested   +u may become sterile

oh  so it’s not immunize the herd

it’s  sterilize the herd   (cause yer still fucking peasants as far as i can see)

wow   an even smarter strategy  than the one child policy

but all i could come up with was:  they cling to the spacetime

continuum   as to their dead mother’s hand  darkness is not an old friend  ditto silence

i have to say it stung   it was a long q-tip like device

+ they shoved it pretty far in

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Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night. (Dylan Thomas)

..the other dylan

Winter 2020

trickiedickie yellowbellied managers be damned

she is not  cargo  not the cargo  the manager makes her

we’ll just move her to 804  there’s running water there   

a strange  empty ish  apartment   does it even have

a tv  to which  they can rehitch  her soul?

then he prays for her covidtested carcass   pray for

rosemary’s baby better   +back away from the lady

in orange shoes   human cargo to mr. manager

mother to some

in the news today  they say suicide is up by 1/3  from

last year  +the numbers of self reported ideation  quadrupled

where are all the psychiatrists  who are going to decant

the terrible claustrophobia  that is covid?

and leave it simmer like steaming cowpatties in fields

get real  this transit is marching along  snail  repetitive

+ mindnumb  which is exactly what you’d want from a

pandemic

as a friend noted  his mother was so much easier to deal

with   once demented

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Winter 2020  ..doublespeak is for losers..

STOP THE PRESS!

a new line  on my forehead  in the mirror this morn

it goes in it’s own direction  just like my flying burrito

bro did this week  on an icy citystreet  on a goddamned

visionquestala

the albino squirrels known to haunt our park applauded

as pedestrians looked away  +one kicked him in a leg   that

has since gone missing

ape i have no feeling in my leg  or in my soulhole  everything went real slo  w

hey that’s the brain show!  u know  when your life passes before

your eyes   he saw the shetl  the bordello in looziana  +the goddam gates

of the Warsaw ghetto  (he freakin breached the spacetime continuum!)

but this new line on my forehead  is some cruel gift from father time

make hay

decrepit poet

make hay

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Winter 2020  🦇..the centro senex bat uses it’s bizarre facemask for sex..🦇  oy

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

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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?

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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

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u just wait  

i will catch that bird  

find that beach

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