Sitting on the patio, drinking margaritas

Letting summers glow wash over me

Listening to the radio, taking in the summertime

Sitting, being single being free

Suddenly, "our song" came on

The first time that I'd heard it

Freezing me just exactly where I was

Overcome with feelings, I almost had a fit

We'd been married nearly 15 years

And this song, it defined us

But at that minute on the patio

I'd been thrown I was making quite a fuss

At first I went to change it

Turn the station, find another

Then I took another sip

And sat down with my Mother

She said "I always like that singer, dear"

"I thought you liked him too'

"Didn't you dance to one of his songs"

"When you wed in ninety two?"

I said I did and it was playing

Didn't want to hear it though

She said "Why, it's just some music dear,"

"It'll help the feelings go"

"I know it hurts at first to hear"

"And be taken to the past"

"But, the heart will heal so quickly"

"And you'll forget about the past"

I sat back and I listened,

To the singer and his song

"San Francisco Mabel Joy"

and I knew she wasn't wrong

His voice, the words so pleasing

New memories would I find

I would take this song of sixpence

And I would hide it in my mind

We danced to it in Frisco

Saw Mickey Newbury at a bar

And it etched into my consciousness

And it never ventured far

For every time we heard it

"Our song" as we would say

We'd dance no matter where we were

And we would listen to him play

So here I am twenty years on

From the first time that it got me

Sitting drinking with my mother

Being single, being free

I wasn 't going to lose it

Miss out on this piece of music

Just because my life changed

I was just divorced, not sick

I wondered about Mabel Joy

and listened to his words

And I thought about their heartbreak

As I listened to the birds

I thought "would he be listening"

"Would he feel the same"

"Was it just our song to me?"

"Did he even know it's name?

A few songs later, we went in

And we ordered in some food

I went down to the basement

At the risk of being rude

"I'll be right back" I told my mum

I had to find that song

And I pulled out the old album

That "Mabel Joy" was first played on

I thought of all the good times

Sat, and held the record near

Then I let them empty from my head

There was none that I'd hold dear

Across town at the very time

"Mabel Joy" was on the air

The other half of "our song"

Was just sitting in his chair

He thought, she used to like that song

Although I don't know why

We'd always dance when it came on

And she would always cry

He went to turn it over

but the voice went to his core

So he sat down and he listened

to "....frisco Mabel Joy" some more

He thought, that ain't a bad tune

It's one that tells the facts

So, he popped another beer cap off

And he sat back to relax

Across town in the kitchen

It was then she chose to laugh

Beside the title , "Our song"

written by her other half

So , it once meant something to them both

It's what made them both believe

That music makes you whole

The heart's hard to decieve

Across town, he thought about the tune

And who the singer was

He knew it wasn't chapin

and he though it was "The Boss"

He thought, I might go out and find

The cd, by that guy

Even though it used to be "our song"

it never made me cry

Now, back inside the kitchen

drinking more than being fed

She pulled out the lp, for to play

Before she went to bed

"San Francisco Mabel Joy"

was the third song on side two

She would listen till "our song" was done

And her mind would fill with new

Memories of this great song

Sitting drinking with her Ma

And these memories would stay with her

They never would venture far

So if you have an "our song"

Put it on, go back in time

For when you exorcise your demons

That's when "our song" becomes "Mine"!

'Di ikaw ang tipo kong laro
Umayaw na kasi ako
Sinubukan ko na kasi dati
Ayon, talo lang lagi

Pero heto na naman ako
Parang tanga ang loko
'Di mapigil ang ngiti
T'wing naiisip nang ang balat mo'y dumampi

Pucha, totoo ba?
Na-SS mo nga ba?
Taena, mukhang ako'y na-stun
Ng walang kalaban-laban

Langya, GG
Hindi good game, kundi gagi
Diba humindi na tayo sa sakit?
Ano na naman 'to? Wooh bakit?

Noob na 'ko eh
Weak, walang silbi
'Pag eto sa wala na naman nauwi
Sarili ko lang pwede ko masisi

'Pag in-game
Please wag mo na ko buhatin
Aasa pa sa GM ang tanso na manok
Pa'no, marupok

Mabel, pasensya ka na
Hayaan mo, ang 2019 ay papasok na
Baka lumipas din
'Pag hindi, patay, "I have been slained."

The missus bought a Paperback
  ...at Val Village, Saturday,
  I had a look inside her bag;
  ....T'was "Fifty Shades of Grey".

  Well I just left her to it,
  And at ten I went to bed.
  An hour later she appeared;
  The sight filled me with dread…..

  In her left she held a rope;
  And in her right a whip!
  She threw them down upon the floor,
  And then began to strip.

  Well fifty years or so ago;
  I might have had a peek;
  But Mabel hasn't weathered well;
  She's eighty four next week!!

  Watching Mabel bump and grind;
  Could not have been much grimmer.
  And things then went from bad to worse;
  She toppled off her Zimmer!

  She struggled back upon her feet;
  A couple minutes later;
  She put her teeth back in and said
  .....I am the dominater !!

  Now if you knew our Mabel,
  You'd see just why I spluttered,
  I'd spent two months in traction
  For the last complaint I'd uttered.

  She stood there **** and naked
  Bent forward just a bit
  I went to hold her, sensual like
  and stood on her left ***!

  Mabel screamed, her teeth shot out;
  My god what had I done!?
  She moaned and groaned then shouted out:
  "Step on the other one"!!

  Well readers, I can't tell no more;
  About what occurred that day.
  Suffice to say my jet black hair,
  Turned fifty shades of Grey.

first step

when he looks at a woman he searches for qualities that attract him because he wants to desire her yet this tendency creates an imbalance or disadvantage he is rendered weak to a woman’s beauty or whatever traits he idealizes self-realizing this propensity he looks away from women years of disappointment neglect change him he becomes afraid of women gynophobic

2

when she looks at a man she searches for qualities she is critical of because she wants to be impervious to his power she is suspicious of all men their upper body strength penchant to be in control misperception of women as property misogyny emotional immaturity neediness to be mommyed selfishness insensitivity or over-sensitivity depending she wants to be treated with equal respect a loving nurturing relationship she is suspicious of all people their alternate realities passive aggressive behavior co-dependence craziness

3

he sees her then looks away she suspiciously notices nothing happens they go back to their separate homes alone always home alone grown calm in resignation yet disbelieving of this destiny saddened by this fate both worry about future she looks at her face naked body in mirror her stomach churns feels sad sickening remembers time when she was more carefree he puts one foot in front of other then walks tries to remember who taught him to walk how many times did he fall who taught him to laugh where did his sense of humor go

4

he sees her thinks she is lovely resists the urge to turn away he smiles says hello she notices nervously smiles her shaky voice articulates louder than a whisper hi

Tucson 2-step

they are standing in line at a café on 4th avenue he is directly behind her she is lanky wearing white background faded colors patterned summer dress thin straps over bare shoulders long brown hair few gray strands small unfinished tattoo on left calf leather slip-ons 1 inch heals he is at a complete loss for words thinks to make remark about the weather decides not to overhead fan stirs hot humid July air barista girl asks what she would like her eyes scan blackboard menu behind counter she hesitates remarks help him i need an extra moment to decide he steps up to counter money in hand orders small to go Arnold Palmer half black current lays $3 on counter mentions change goes in tip jar thank you barista girl moves fast he lifts cup from counter glances at woman still deciding then at barista girl says have a wonderful day turns walks out door dawns on him woman grows hair under her arms his 2nd most compelling female physique adornment fetish oh god he thinks to himself should i wait for her to make up her mind then approach try to craft conversation at least find out her name no i’m too weak in this moment she is so lovely let her go

2

she orders double Americana in small cup to go room for soy milk thinks to herself he did greet her perhaps their paths will cross on street why did he run off so fast she glances toward front of café notices window seat changes her mind instructs barista ******* 2nd thought make it for here digs through purse realizes she left wallet in truck explains to barista girl she needs to run out to her vehicle to retrieve wallet forgotten under front seat the air on the street is heavy dense she smells her own perspiration looks north then south does not see him walks to truck feels exhausted appetiteless almost nauseous wishes she did not order a drink thinks to get behind wheel drive home go to sleep

Tucson 3-step tango

she feels disappointment by her recent writings as if she is reaching a more sophisticated audience and setting a higher standard for her work yet she is not living up to her ambitions her recent writings smell of her past writings too emotional the damaged woman wounded child she wants to write more introspectively with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence she slams her laptop shut decides to go to Club Congress for a ****** mary or margarita but Club Congress is haunted with small town cretins losers wannabes she considers Maynard’s decides Maynard’s is too safe suburban yuppyish finally gives in to thought of glass of pinot noir at Plush next comes what to wear jeans in mid-July desert heat is unacceptable perhaps loose fitting thin cotton white summer dress thin leather belt ankle high indian moccasins hair in ponytail no pigtail braids no ponytail no makeup maybe little ylang ylang oil no she thinks about her recent writings

2

i am one breath away from crying in every moment one breath away from flying m.i.a. in every moment one breath away from destroying everything there is beauty in ugliness beauty in decrepitude disease beauty in harm hurt suffering beauty in greed injustice betrayal beauty in corruption contamination pollution beauty in hate cruelty ignorance beauty in death we spend our whole lives searching for a good death we spend our whole lives searching for eternal love this modern world is too much for me over my head the horrors of this place are beyond words unspeakable voice inside maybe mom yells quit your whining or dad hollers stop complaining i am trying to smile through tears one breath away from giving in one breath away from becoming stranger to myself winter spring winter spring there is beauty in nothingness we spend our whole lives searching for ourselves learning who we are not finding grasping secrets from dark paths light trails winter spring winter spring i am one breath away

3

she sits alone at bar at Plush glass of pinot noir glass of ice water in front of her 2 bearded older men eye her from other end of bar she ignores them glances at her wristwatch tries to look like she is waiting for someone music from speakers antiquated rock standard it is early friday hours from dusk moderate middle aged crowd mingle wait for local jazz trio to begin she thinks about her recent writings wonders is it too late for love considers lesbian affair from 5 different perspectives 5 woman’s voices each describing same lesbian affair in 5 opposing accounts hmmm she sips dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water she considers a story about a gang of female bikers who ride south to Mexico

4

the Americans came through here last night crossing border illegally climbing over our fences digging tunnels beneath our barrier walls littering along their trail they travel in packs of every skin color carry guns knives explosives wear leather boots some are shirtless tattoos dyed hair mischievously smiling conceitedly stealing when in question murdering they rob our homes slaughter our chickens ransack gardens loot our harvest you can still smell the stink of their fast food breaths

5

she swallows the last dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water local jazz trio begins to play as bar fills with more people she decides to walk home one foot in front of other wonders who taught her how to walk how many times did she fall she laughs to herself

Tucson square dance

TPD 10-18 unconfirmed data report

7 post-University of Arizona female graduates go to Cactus Moon for several drinks and dancing then drive to Bashful Bandit for more drinks and dancing 2 women get into scuffle victim Brittany Garner female 23 years of age race #5 (Native American, Eskimo, Middle -Eastern, Other) 5’ 2” long black hair cut-off blue jean shorts clingy light blue top falls hits head on side of bar dies of fatal blow to skull forensics report crushed occipital lobe assailant Stacy Won female 31 years of age race #4 (Asian) 5’6” black jeans black leather jacket red helmet Honda motorcycle still at large

witness accounts

Jess Delaney female 33 years of age race #2 (White) 6’ tight black pencil skirt white sleeveless undershirt no bra 3” heels blond ponytail “that squirting little **** deserves everything she got she lied told Stacy i’m a ***** i never cheated on Brittany i don’t understand we were all having a good time getting buzzed and dancing we should never have left Cactus Moon **** Kerrie thought some biker dude might be hanging around the Bandit hell maybe the Bandit was a biker bar once but now it’s just a college sink hole full of drunken frat boys when Monique flashed a little *** they went crazy cheering and buying us shots it just got out of hand never should have happened the way it happened Stacy didn’t mean to **** Brittany it’s ****** up i want to go home please let me go home”

Sabrina Starn female 29 years of age race #2 (White) 5’8” trendy corporate gray suit black pumps red shoulder length hair “i have to be at work at 8 AM Stacy was drunk out of control she gets crazy when she drinks Brittany was trash talking pushing all Stacy’s buttons then Stacy accused Brittany of sleeping with Monique and all hell broke loose i didn’t see what happened i was in the powder room it’s a terrible tragedy unfortunate accident can i please be released i need to sleep this is madness”

Kerrie Angeles female 27 years of age race #1 (Hispanic) 5’ 6” black pants white shirt black hair cut stylishly short silver crucifix around neck red fingernails “when we got to the Bashful Bandit i was ***** soaking between my legs thinking about a cowgirl at Cactus Moon ready to **** anyone i saw fantasized pulling a train with those frat boys Monique had been kind of quiet at Cactus Moon but when we got to the Bashful Bandit she lit up dancing wild unbuttoning her top jacket Sabrina went to the ladies room to snort coke with biker dude Kerrie wanted but he wasn’t into her then Brittany started saying crazy stuff accusing Stacy of stealing Monique from Jess Jessie goes through women heartlessly she doesn’t give a **** about Monique Jessie knows if she wants Monique back she can simply fiddle a finger my guess is Stacy is half way to Argentina she never meant to **** Brittany i’m going to miss her real bad she was a good kid”

Ann Skyler female 28 years of age race  #2 (White) 4’ 11’’ green white red Mexican peasant skirt black t-shirt black high-tops hair in messy bun “i’m confused i saw them dancing laughing grinding up against each other Rage Against the Machine came on then Nine Inch Nails the room felt quaking dizzy claustrophobic then they were pushing each other shoving yelling frat boys cheering the next thing i knew Brittany was supine on the floor blood pouring out maybe she just slipped hit her head i don’t know what to think i feel real sad confused sick to my stomach scared”

Monique Smithson female 24 years of age race # 3 (Black) 5’ 9” blue jeans jean jacket cowboy boots nose ring braided pigtails “Stacy had it in for Brittany from the start i saw it in her eyes at Cactus Moon she made several clever toxic remarks they snapped at each other i never thought it would escalate to ****** poor sweet Brittany was always so susceptible i was looking down adjusting my jeans over my boots when it happened i heard felt a big thump glanced up Brittany was lying there lifeless blood spilling everywhere Stacy ran out fast i heard her bike engine take off in a hurry”

Rodeo Drive Tucson

matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gasoline mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves

Quinta Waltz de Tucson

she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts she dreams aches to create deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration instead she writes paperback television trash stupid inadequate answers to solemn questions she wonders if she is too scratched dented to find love her ******* are definitely changing she is deeply disturbed not ready for menopause too young for menopause she wants to remain a fertile woman with smooth skin wet ******

2

her neighbor Leslie awoke to horrible morning Leslie’s 6 chickens were assaulted overnight precious Mabel dragged off feathers everywhere trail down the street other hens cowering slumped together with wilted necks 3 of them with puncture wounds Leslie carried them one by one inside washed their wounds hugged them cried who did this terrible act a neglected abusive neighborhood cat or some desert predator why didn’t Leslie wake to sounds of savage marauding now this creature knows hen’s whereabouts when will it return for more massacre what modifications need to be enforced to ensure their coup before nightfall

3

she wants to remain a hen keep producing eggs does not want is not ready to enter the next **** stage of this **** existence it was fun being pretty for men inspiring them to say do whacky things she wants to remain a hen she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary attempts “Tucson square dance” (self-referential) ****** bit about Americans came through here last night in “Tucson 3-step” ****** "Rodeo Drive" tepid perhaps the pinot noir lowered her standards everything is becoming nothing she cannot sleep tosses turns thrashes sheets in humid heat of her lonesome bed is she is too scratched dented to find love she worries for Leslie

4

tomorrow is another day they say the rain will come last year’s monsoon never came the baking sun smothered her garden died one by one sleepless she will miss tomorrow’s pilates class the infrequent delightful chatty breakfast afterwards she dreams aches of deeper discourse higher insight with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration she crossed the line tonight her ******* are definitely changing

Tucson 666

he decides to shave eighth to quarter inch length salt and pepper beard a.k.a. unshaven look he has worn for years and grow full mustache the whiskers on his upper lip are darker with sparse gray at first no one notices after weeks the mustache gradually fills evoking many contrasting remarks several women loath it several men admire it girl at grocery store suggests he grow Fu Manchu so she can tug on it shopgirl says he looks like Charlie Chaplin downstairs neighbor from Turkey explains most Turkish men traditionally wear mustaches he read mustaches masculinize and empower men especially men in authoritative positions he thinks back to the 1960’s when many hippie males grew mustaches then in the 70’s gay men fashioned mustaches then in the 80’s cops adopted mustaches he wonders why a swatch of hair beneath nose is so provoking examines his visage in mirror discerns the mustache confers a Pepé le Pew quality or European accent to his appearance he remembers when he was young hippie with many amorous episodes how his mustache preserved the scent of a woman but there are no women in his life for many years do post-menopausal women possess scent? he feels indecisive whether to retain it or be rid of it

2

she observes her figure in mirror thinks to herself maybe her ******* are not changing perhaps it’s all in her head she inspects the little lines forming near her eyelids studies her features for signs of aging hardly any silver strands in long brown hair she examines neck ******* arms elbows fingers tummy hips pelvic region thighs knees shins calves ankles feet detects subtle changes thinks to herself my ******* are possibly slightly changing turned 40 in March married briefly in late teens no children a 15 year old dog beginning to suffer veterinarian promises to warn her when the time comes she wonders why it is so difficult finding fitting mate men sleep with her several times then move on maybe she is not such a great lover perhaps she would be better if one of them stuck around perhaps she is a lesbian the whole ide

Have you seen mabel?
A girl with a face marbled with gold
her smile can infect even the saddest heart to smile..
She commands words with her lips and her voice will remind you of heaven, like melodies escaping the beak of a bird
singing the joy of a new dawn.. .
.
Have you seen mabel?
She is the young girl with a mature mind.
clothed in purity, the ****** Mary of our generation.
When she walks even models take note for the earth adores her feet and her footprints leaves autographs for the young ones to
follow.. .
.
If you see mabel... Please!
Tell her she has stolen my heart,
for her eyes are the greatest weapon I've ever seen.
i couldn't resist her gaze..
Tell her someone is craving for her attention and How much will it cost?
Tell her, I'm Willing to pay.
.
Please, Tell her
when i rearrange her name ''MABEL'' i Find;
''Me'' ''Able'' and ''Bea''
and i believe she alone is able to handle this heart of mine.
.

ode to Mabel

Mabel is breathing....
    no one ever visits.
She has tended flowers and done laundry all
    life for others.
No one needs her.
    She has a bad knee and
Neuropathy , subsists now on pain medication and sugars.
    No one calls her.
She envisions one day getting flowers.
    Or hearing again from that gentleman, who
twenty years ago smiled.
    Or her children or grand young ens';
but no one writes her one letter.
     In the cold she wears all those sweaters she knitted.
no one remembers her.  I will!
    I visit and bring the flowers I grew specially
for her,
    the prettiest yellow roses,
while she lives!

Mabel is breathing....
    no one ever visits.
She has tended flowers and done laundry all
    life for others.
No one needs her.
    She has a bad knee and
Neuropathy , subsists now on pain medication and sugars.
    No one calls her.
She envisions one day getting flowers.
    Or hearing again from that gentleman, who
twenty years ago smiled.
    Or her children or grand young ens';
but no one writes her one letter.
     In the cold she wears all those sweaters she knitted.
So no  people remember her, I will!
    I visit and bring the flowers I grew specially
for her,
    the prettiest yellow roses,
while she lives!

Five hundred feet from Terrapin Point the Birdman stands with his bicycle.  His face as flat as the quarters he begs for, glares at foreign tourists.  Two boisterous parrots, Larry and Mabel.  They smell like tourists and change, and are footcuffed to three brass chains connected to his backpack.  A Muslim family approaches.  They want a picture.  Birdman places the birds on the hands of the smallest boy, and his mother takes a picture.  Mabel squirms.  Larry squawks.  Click.  A reward for their posturing, Birdman places birdseed on his tongue, and the parrots peck away, ignoring his birdbreathe for an evening snack.  The tourists clap and laugh at Birdman and toss him their spare change.  Birdman stands.  Waits.  For another family to pose with his birds.

Mabel licks her wings
and Larry says, "Picture pic."
Birdman stands alone.

'Di ikaw ang tipo kong laro
Umayaw na kasi ako
Sinubukan ko na kasi dati
Ayon, talo lang lagi

Pero heto na naman ako
Parang tanga ang loko
'Di mapigil ang ngiti
T'wing naiisip nang ang balat mo'y dumampi

Pucha, totoo ba?
Na-SS mo nga ba?
Taena, mukhang ako'y na-stun
Ng walang kalaban-laban

Langya, GG
Hindi good game, kundi gagi
Diba humindi na tayo sa sakit?
Ano na naman 'to? Wooh bakit?

Noob na 'ko eh
Weak, walang silbi
'Pag eto sa wala na naman nauwi
Sarili ko lang pwede ko masisi

'Pag in-game
Please wag mo na ko buhatin
Aasa pa sa GM ang tanso na manok
Pa'no, marupok

Mabel, pasensya ka na
Hayaan mo, ang 2019 ay papasok na
Baka lumipas din
'Pag hindi, patay, "I have been slained."

AUNTIE MABEL COMES TO TOWN

she was long
in a wide way
3 seats across

when she laughed
all of her laughed
an earthquake of flesh

she had a chin
underneath her chin
and then another chin

when she hugged you
her ******* surrounded you
took you prisoner

once she stumbled
tumbled on to the cat
we had to get another cat

the cat
was like a horror movie
only realer

was always afraid
she would tumble onto me
I didn't want to be a real horror movie

the cat said nothing
all his lives
squashed flat

I liked Auntie Mabel but
she had whiskey kisses
spat when she spoke

always glad when she's gone
I feel I have somehow survived
an act of God

AUNTIE MABEL COMES TO TOWN

she was long
in a wide way
3 seats across

when she laughed
all of her laughed
an earthquake of flesh

she had a chin
underneath her chin
and then another chin

when she hugged you
her ******* surrounded you
took you prisoner

once she stumbled
tumbled on to the cat
we had to get another cat

the cat
was like a horror movie
only realer

was always afraid
she would tumble onto me
I didn't want to be a real horror movie

the cat said nothing
all his lives
squashed flat

I liked Auntie Mabel but
she had whiskey kisses
spat when she spoke

always glad when she's gone
I feel I have somehow survived
an act of God

AUNTIE MABEL COMES TO TOWN

she was long
in a wide way
3 seats across

when she laughed
all of her laughed
an earthquake of flesh

she had a chin
underneath her chin
and then another chin

when she hugged you
her ******* surrounded you
took you prisoner

once she stumbled
tumbled on to the cat
we had to get another cat

the cat
was like a horror movie
only realer

was always afraid
she would tumble onto me
I didn't want to be a real horror movie

the cat said nothing
all his lives
squashed flat

I liked Auntie Mabel but
she had whiskey kisses
spat when she spoke

always glad when she's gone
I feel I have somehow survived
an act of God

.i don't know any other music genre, where the bass is left alone, left exfoliating married to the drums, and the guitar? there's no such a thing as a rhythm guitar section in blues... the guitar is consrtantly married to solo... to a sense of orthography... best represented by ´ (the acute accent) without an o: to cream out a "hidden" u, i.e.: ó... or a cedilla (¸) bound to a c: ç to form the greek sigma (ς) - e.g. garçon... waiter, waiter: i'll just wait... that's how i see the blues guitar... the rhythm guitar isn't there, the bass is married to the drums... but the blues guitar keeps the rhythm in a "funny" way... pair up john lee ****** with lightnin' hopkins (on the piano)... and you... keep rhythm, by working solo accents into the rhythm set by the bass and drums... you rhythm by a continous sparring with the solo - you solo by ensuring your remain in the confines of chord, or something much -esque to a chord... milk, cream & alcohol... again and again: the blues... oh my dear the blues... where the rhythm of the guitar is kept with constant soloing... sometimes engaging with the bass and the drums for a reference check of rhythm... but mostly: solo the whole **** through... but it's not the sort of soloing associated with hair metal of the 1980s jerking-off for performance art piquance... sometimes the solos come in the form of chords... it's like i said already... layers:

         waiter -   garçon
                                 and garcon
                                               (¸)

blues guitar? the latter...
                                             solo accents...
rhythm of syllables: gar-çon
                              but mostly gar-con
                                                         ­  (¸)
since the bass and drums rhythm section
is so perfected in the blues,
the guitar is allowed to do what the hands
want owned by the devil...
        a thorough solo to keep the rhythm...
the one genre of music
where the solo works like a rhythm...
     instead of that in between section
of showing off
between verse chorus verse chorus solo chorus
standard of rock...

     another freedom given to the blues guitar?
the rhythm set by the vocals,
of repeating lyrics...
hell... if someone is going to sing
and play at the same time...
                  why explore lyrics as some sort
of narrative... ping-pong along
with the freedom of the itchy fingers...
by having no real verse,
and no real chorus...
                just a steadied momentum...
        and you really need to drink to appreciate
the blues...
                   just like all the hippies
will tell you that dropping acid enchances your
chances of enjoying the 13th floor elevators
or jefferson airplane...
              i don't know which is better these days:
jazz or blues?
sure as **** not rap...
                       and they say the slave trade
was all bad... sorry...
      without these west africans budding
in h'america... i'd still have a clarinet shoved
up my ***... or folk songs...
                  or mozart's woodwind imitating...
or vivaldi's *******' worth of spring...
yes, and we all know that Idi Amin was white...
wasn't he? who died peacefully while
under asylum in saudi arabia...
           Idi Amin was white! oh come on!
he was the last king of sctoland!
              on a side:
   they were picking cotton...
             well... at least they weren't working
the ******* coalmines... where they now?

ever watch that video
of milo
  yiannopolous:
       congresswoman
ilhan omar
           (d-mn)
       addresses
david horowitz's west
coast retreat?

where is the old milo
gone to?
anyone pick
up on the heavy breathing?

there's the stag ***
of only 2 years prior?
he's not here...

         i was never into making
videos,
only because i just liked
those japanese godzilla
movies from the late 80s...

and i'm still a sucker
for modern pop,
currently?
           mabel - don't call me up...
huge, huge sucker
for the expected reaction
to pop music...
synch. vocals and
a very limited circumstance
of lyrical poverty...

sucker... might as well
don a dunce hat...
elsewhere,
on the ibernian peninsula
it's also called
a *capirote...
and **** gets freaky...

i agree...
the northern crusades,
the polacks became christened
in 962...
   the teutonic knights
were ready
to explore lithuania...
we were about to allign
ourselves with them,
ergo: defend them...

            the concept
of reconquista came after
the crusades...
         i'm pretty sure it came
after...
           jihad is reconquista...
worded differently...
   is it? the crusades were one
thing...
     jihad = reconquista...
         the current form of jihad?
it's like crusading...
     to claim a jihad is to claim
reclaiming lost lands,
there must be some muslim genius
who could come up with
a counter term to jihad:
the jihad on the offensive...
rather than on the defensive...
we need some muslim genius
to come up with a conquering
ideology of islam...
   umayyad script...

i'm reading into the video
and i'm like:
is he angry...
       or is he simply scared?
all that heavy breathing...
maybe it's both?
   do i "think" about
throwing him from
a roof... are you sane?
as they say:
in a mad mad world,
the only sane people
                    are the madmen...

talk about memes finally
coming across "genetic"
mutation...
                why are all the "liberals"
and "progressives"
so surprised by mutation
creeping into memes?
doesn't that usually happen
with genes?
so... what's with all the outrage...
if memes exist outside
of the biological reality
of genes,
then... surely,
any counter-thought
from the est. order is equivalent
to a mutation, isn't it?

               so... what's the outrage
about?
    well if genes are going
to by hijacked by a mutation,
why would memes be immune
to a mutation,
akin to the o.k. hand sign?
you want a script?
i learned this at primary school,
but you need two hands
in tow:

   (right hand RH,
left hand LH,
   thumb TH
         index I
      ******* MF
        ring finger RF
pinky P)...

and now the motion

   RH (I + MF hand down) slap on the
the LH palm of the open hand...
   RH (I + MF hand up) slap
on the LH palm of the open hand...
RH (I + MF
               V shaped insertion
of the V shape into the LH's
side)
      clenched fist of RH slammed
on the open palm of the LH...
clenched RH with an extended TH
poiting toward caesar's favour
in the coliseum (thumb's up)
moving away from the LH open
palm...

   translation?
   why, don't, you, ****, off...
primary school,
some of the kid's parents
must have taught them this sequence
when their children told them
that some foreigner ******
was attending primary school
with them...

                   poor milo though...
notably in that video...
           he's either really angry...
or he's ******* himself...

i'm still left with this sign language...
i don't even know if it's correct...
a kevin spacey "conundrum"...
i'm not exactly going to, *******,
am i?
                knitting and picking
points of criticism...
   made easy:
   no niqab, no turban,
   no copper skin,
             no black skin...
no wonder my fellow countrymen
are leaving
with a massive F          and a U
from this island...
                    good for them...
if i was sane enough,
i'd also leave...
      but given that i'm also a dual-citizen...
well...
         milk the ***** for
her last worth...
    this language...
                    the people are another story,
but my lover affair with
this language is exactly
this.

******* sheets of copper,
          Something so improper.
        Balanced on a pillaged scheme,
Straight from a crooked stream.
          The tenderness of mass,
                 A fondled higher class
      Breakfast's gone cold
             Poor champion's been sold.
To a home of swindled means,
   For the sake of argument, let's call them the Greens.
They were prestigious in a worldly right
      The cause of most any blight
To some, they were a cursed name,
      Nonetheless, they had quite a bit of fame.
Mr.Green owned a large stable
     His prized beast a creature named Mabel.
She came shipped in a crate,
                           No mere act of fate.
Mr. Green broke her in that very night,
     Regardless of marital right.
Bruised and broken from that day on.
      Mabel remained the victim of a vast wrong.
In time, all with wealth had a ride
    Wretchedly ripping the poor girls hide.
   Soon she caught a common plague
And passed it on to every stag.
            One day Mrs. Green was heard ******* copper
    And explained to her husband why that was so improper.
                              So the man set fire to his stable
      Murdering poor old Mabel.
It was mostly over that very night
    Then cleaned up fully by a sheriff in the daylight.

Charlie Chaplin, set the pace
Buster Keaton, old stone face
Groucho and the brothers Marx
Margaret Dumont for some sparks
Harold Lloyd, The Brothers Ritz
Did I mention Zazu Pitts?
Stan and Ollie, Keystone Cops
Chases that just wouldn't stop
The Stooges, Larry, Curly, Moe
and then theres Shemp and Curly Joe
Bing and Bob, and Dean and Jerry
Two could sing, while two made merry
Bud and Lou and who's on first?
Harry Langdon and Charlie Chase
I think who is on first base
Mabel Normand and Mack Swain
Always tied before the train
Pie fights, slapstick in black and white
This was when we laughed all night
Mack Sennet, Roach, and Our Gang
Spanky and Alfalfa sang
Words were twisted, spun and turned
People splashed and others burned
Remember back to days of yore
To when they had you on the floor
Rembember Baby Rose Marie
She started at the age of three
Many more could make the list
For many I know that I missed
Make 'em laugh and take a pie
Get sprayed with seltzer in the eye
Go and watch their films again
So comedy will always reign
Thank you to the funny folk
Who taught us how to take a joke....

a

auntie mable said to me
said they would hang me..

coming from wales
and poetically placed

(her lilting prophesy
common amid family..)

b

i was bemused at the time
we sat in the bar..red wine

dribbled off her chin
she ****** back in

hang me why
she knew not why

why is a sin
why is a sin boy..

she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts she dreams aches to create deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration instead she writes paperback television trash stupid inadequate answers to solemn questions she wonders if she is too scratched dented to find love her ******* are definitely changing she is deeply disturbed not ready for menopause too young for menopause she wants to remain a fertile woman with smooth skin wet ******

2

her neighbor Leslie awoke to horrible morning Leslie’s 6 chickens were assaulted overnight precious Mabel dragged off feathers everywhere trail down the street other hens cowering slumped together with wilted necks 3 of them with puncture wounds Leslie carried them one by one inside washed their wounds hugged them cried who did this terrible act a neglected abusive neighborhood cat or some desert predator why didn’t Leslie wake to sounds of savage marauding now this creature knows hen’s whereabouts when will it return for more massacre what modifications need to be enforced to ensure their coup before nightfall

3

she wants to remain a hen keep producing eggs does not want is not ready to enter the next **** stage of this **** existence it was fun being pretty for men inspiring them to say do wacky things she wants to remain a hen she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts “tucson square dance” (self-referential) ****** bit about Americans came through here last night in “tucson 3-step” ****** perhaps the pinot noir lowered her standards everything is becoming nothing she cannot sleep tosses turns thrashes sheets in humid heat of her lonesome bed is she is too scratched dented to find love worries for Leslie

4

tomorrow is another day they say the rain will come last year’s monsoon never came the baking sun smothered her garden died one by one sleepless she will miss tomorrow’s pilates class the infrequent delightful breakfast afterwards she dreams aches of deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration she crossed the line tonight her ******* are definitely changing

The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,
The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,
And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
Where a little headstone stood;
How the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,
Saying, 'Father, who makes it snow?'
And I told of the good All-father
Who cares for us here below.

Again I looked at the snowfall,
And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
The scar of our deep-plunged woe.

And again to the child I whispered,
'The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
Alone can make it fall! '

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepening snow.

AUNTIE MABEL COMES TO TOWN

she was long
in a wide way
3 seats across

when she laughed
all of her laughed
an earthquake of flesh

she had a chin
underneath her chin
and then another chin

when she hugged you
her ******* surrounded you
took you prisoner

once she stumbled
tumbled on to the cat
we had to get another cat

the cat
was like a horror movie
only realer

was always afraid
she would tumble onto me
I didn't want to be a real horror movie

the cat said nothing
all his lives
squashed flat

I liked Auntie Mabel but
she had whiskey kisses
spat when she spoke

always glad when she's gone
I feel I have somehow survived
an act of God

The road stretched out before me
Leading me away from where
I'd spent time spinning all around
It was time to ride from there
The truck it stopped and picked me up
We didn't talk at all
We'd gone 300 miles
Then he said, ok bud....there that's all

I walked down from the hilltop highway
Into somewhere new
I didn't read the sign on entry
This place was somewhere new
I bummed around the country side
Working jobs and playing bars
Getting rides from country truckers
And from college kids in cars

I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here
I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here

I stopped into a diner for a coffee and a meal
The waitress looked me over
Like I was her next meal
She brought the coffee over
Said "you've not been here before"
I told her "I'm not staying"
and what I was looking for

All I owned in the whole world was in my pack
Two pair of jeans, some t shirts,
And my guitar, painted black
She said "son, can you play that?"
"If you can, the meals on me"
I took her on her offer
I love food when it is free

She said, my momma loved the songs
the ones that tell a tale of woe
I tuned up, started strumming
And said, well "here we go"
I sang of Frisco Mabel Joy and crying in my beer
I looked at her, her eyes were closed
But, I knew...were full of tears

I played Lefty and Poncho, songs of love and loss
I sang of travelling the country side
I sang of Christ upon the cross
She wiped her eyes, and looked at me
Real deep, you know the way
When the tone is gonna change some
And there's something important for to say

"If you want to linger here....there's a room out in the back"
"The rent is cheap, the food is free"
"Just play your guitar painted black"
She offered me a leg up
It's been a while since
I thought about a future
I felt kinda like a prince

She said, "no one here plays anything at all"
"They make the words up as they go"
"And they always play too loud"
"You can play here if you want to"
"Mostly requests, and some new stuff"
"You can even sing the songs you write"
"When you think you've had enough"

"Tip jar money also, that's all yours for when you play"
"take notice though, there's not much here"
"To do through out the day"
Again, she looked me over
I'll tell you how it made me feel
Like I'd been cornered by a cougar
And I was her next meal

I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here
I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here




I went on stage that night to start
Singing songs and rambling
I knew most of the ones they asked
On the others I was gambling
I mumbled through and had them sing
So I could learn the words
And as for what I didn't know
Well, I do not think they heard

Made forty bucks in tips first night
I think I'll gonna stay
You know "Piano Man" on the guitar
ain't bad tenth time you play
I sang of seeing doctors and of trucks and vintage cars
Of Redneck Family Reunions
And of looking at the stars

I started out for no place special
Now, I've find it I might stay
For the folks in no place special
All kind of roll my way
I started out for no place special
Yes, I know I'm gonna stay
For the folks in no place special
All kind of roll my way

AUNTIE MABEL COMES TO TOWN

she was long
in a wide way
3 seats across

when she laughed
all of her laughed
an earthquake of flesh

she had a chin
underneath her chin
and then another chin

when she hugged you
her ******* surrounded you
took you prisoner

once she stumbled
tumbled on to the cat
we had to get another cat

the cat
was like a horror movie
only realer

was always afraid
she would tumble onto me
I didn't want to be a real horror movie

the cat said nothing
all his lives
squashed flat

I liked Auntie Mabel but
she had whiskey kisses
spat when she spoke

always glad when she's gone
I feel I have somehow survived
an act of God

My demons swim.
George's can fly.
Mabel's can shoot
Jimmy's won't die.

My sorrows are deeper.
Judy's weigh more.
Fred's chained him up.
Anne's heart was tore.

I can breathe lighter.
(Ah, that's where you win
From the contest of sorrows
One cannot rescind.)

"It’s a mysterious thing time is"
said the pocket watch man
whose shop resided on the corner of 4th and Mabel Street.
"Do you see how the greatest minds
use clocks as the object of mystery?"
I was young then, I shook my head,
hair bobbing with the force of my agreement.
"But why? Why are clocks so mysterious?
For after all, it is we who give them time-"
He trailed off lost in thought again.
I picked up a silver watch that needed repair,
dusting it off on my light blue petticoat.
I looked at it, the gleaming glass showing no movement
He looked up, "That one is broken, I think there is a gear loose"
"I know" I break my stare from the watch
and look to the window,
The old man cups my hands around a small object
Shocked at the cold metal in my palms,
then by the warmth of his hands,
I look down and sitting there was his own brass watch;
beaten from the war, chain swinging below
"They believe when a watch runs out of time,
the person who gave it to you dies"
My eyes widened as I looked into his face
"Is it true" I say, I sure hoped it wasn't
"Of course not" he assured me patting my head
"Of course not". He shooed me out of his shop
and warned me not to lose that watch.

He built the clock that’s in town
and every day the clock strikes noon
It chimed just once then stopped too soon
He died at noon that very day
And his watch has never worked the same way.