"rattlesnakes" poems
Midnight
criminal metabolism of guilt forest
Rattlesnakes whistles castanets
Remove me from this hall of mirrors
This filthy glass
Are you her
Do you look like that
How could you be when
no one ever could
~~~
Poet of the call-girl storm
She left a note on the bedroom door.
“If I’m out, bring me to.”
~~~
I dropped by to see you
late last night
But you were out
like a light
Your head was on the floor
& rats played pool w/your eyes
Death is a good disguise
for late at night
Wrapping all games in its calm garden
But what happens
when the guests return
& all unmask
& you are asked
to leave
for want of a smile
I’ll still take you then
But I’m your friend
16.8k
The porch bends beneath me,
its gray boards sighing.
I light a cigarette,
send my breath to the wind-
maybe White‑Shell Woman
will carry it to the horizon.
He's fired again,
last kitchen inside forty miles
that could stand him,
bridge burned behind.
At lunch I’ll call,
say get out
or Daddy and Jimbo
will haul your whiskey bones
to lie with the rattlesnakes.
I swore to Mama and to Owl,
I will keep the night honest,
I wouldn’t spend my years
driving a man to dialysis,
watching Irish blood unravel
like wet lace.
But I remember the long Covid winter-
two bears in one den,
one soft, one starved-
when Spider Grandmother
wove us together
in the dim blue light
of tele-novellas and snow.
I almost believed
it was love again.
He pops up like a coyote
in the truck’s passenger door,
smelling of smoke and ruin.
Eighty‑five down the prairie road,
bug‑spattered glass,
sky bending blue,
fields gold as escape.
This isn’t working, I whisper.
We want different things.
Don’t, he says,
fingers crawling my thigh
No-
I shove.
Sweetness peels,
the sleeping volcano wakes.
Before his hand
can teach me the rest,
I already know:
there is no leaving.
The road is long,
lined with white crosses,
and the Ghost Buffalo
that's been leading me
down it
all my life.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 3:41 PM UTC
They cling to the earth
like lichens
in deep meditation
Lophophora williamsii.
Fallen warriors sprinkled
throughout the blackbrush and mesquite
there in the valley of the Rio Grande.
They whisper to you
as you roam that arid slab of ground
and spin like Van Gogh
in the night sky
while you sleep.
They call you this way
and that
lead you in directions
you did not intend.
In the dry washes
beware
rattlesnakes wait in every thin patch
of shade
and at night
lightning switches the lights on
and off
and on again.
Once the spirit
of this unassuming succulent
enters into you
accepts you
uplifts you
the sky opens
and reveals the pulsing heart of
God's creation
speaking softly in tongues
heard only at the beginning.
It is glory then.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
I imagine you
in the slot canyons of valhalla
among rattlesnakes and bighorns
at twilight
I imagine you
running through knee-deep snowdrifts
with icecicles forming on your beard
under a full moon
I imagine you
living after dying,
and it's so hard
to imagine anything else
But you can't move anymore
and if there is a valhalla
no one ever deserved a place in it
like you did-
but that's a fiction
it's my imagination
it's my cowardice
and my inability to accept that anyone
as alive as you could be dead.
You're a nothing now
and the truth is I imagine you alive
because it is so much better
to be a something than a nothing-
which I think you knew all along.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
I s’ppose rattlesnakes can’t be
ninjas. Yes — they got
the striking and the stinging
part right, but they
are not really masters
of subtlety; they make
too much noise and take
a considerable amount
of time to make a **** and
they can never hold katanas and
hurl throwing stars. I guess
rattlesnakes are doomed to
crawl and rattle on, announcing
Hey, I carry venom, as
the rats would thank their ears and
the hawks circle above.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
I was three , no bigger than a west Texas tumbleweed . . . just three .
My mother hung the wash out on the line
and wiped the sweat off her brow with her hand .
Half an hour later the clothes were frozen .
Blue Norther . . . you can see them coming
a hundred miles away .
Wichita Falls , Texas . . . on the Wichita river .
Moses sat on a mountaintop gazing at the promised land but it was out of his hands now .
Leaning on his staff , the one that ate the Pharoh's two serpents . . . sssssssilently a single tear falls to the ground .
No fence could hold me . . . I was over or under in seconds .
A terror at three , a potential runaway .
The police knew me by first name . . . just three .
The plains of North Texas , jackrabbits , coyotes , rattlesnakes and all . . . were home .
Forty years of desert wilderness ,
till the last man , woman , and child of Egyptian connection had died ,
. . . . . . was such a sacrifice made . . . . . .
Moses was the last to fall .
On a mountaintop of no consequences .
"Run Rabbit Run"
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
I used to swim across the channel to rattlesnake island when I lived
in Florida . We all knew the sharks loved
the funneling action of the channel to the bay . And we were always aware that there were sharks near by . We saw them every day . Yet the allure of the island just a scant one hundred yards away was to much for a 10 year old to pass up . So I would swim across holding a rod and reel high so it would not soak in sea water . I admit there was apprehension evident in my strokes and kicks but I made it across . On the other side there were no rattlesnakes anywhere .
Just gorgeous unclaimed white beaches and aqua clear water . Needle fish scooted across the surface and schools of mullet jumping were all I could see . I did little or no fishing , just running and jumping into the surf . What an afternoon it was . But the sun slid down and we knew we had to leave soon as the big sharks move in at dusk to feed into the night . So we stepped into the swirling waters of the channel and then plunged in and swam . Sharks have all black eyes . Cold black eyes and an expressionless grin that is all business sporting a mouth full of jagged dagger teeth . They are cautious up to a point but no one knows where that point is . Once that point is reached . . . well you don't want to see that point while your in the water . So about half way across the channel we see a dark shadow swim by in front of us between us and the beach . We know it's a shark , a big one . Perhaps more than fifteen feet long . We can't stay where we are at , but we fear to move on . So taking a deep breath we swim on slow and steady . Finely the beach is at hand , our feet touch sand and we run up on the beach and collapse . Then with heaving chests of fear we look back only to see the shark swim by . Needless to say that was my last visit to rattlesnake island .
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 11:55 PM UTC
Dangerous times nearing midnight. Every day opens with fresh blood or ink drying down our throats, "...and I Must Scream.", Harlan Ellison [1967]
Honeycombs of humanity sink into themselves and form a thick syrup they claim will cure our ailments, but still tastes like Third ***** nationalism. They burn our shelters and chant, "Home."
Resistance looks strange. People aren't choking on gag orders, they're going around the wall, but hundreds are behind bars for protest, or still getting killed on the streets, or getting hosed down in the cold for advocating clean water. They're putting bounties on antifascists.
We beat that ***** Richard Spencer, but we're yet to strike the one in the White House.
Rattlesnakes under our heels, we've grown into something fiercer.
Something deadlier.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
I've been all across Texas , and in return Texas has been all across me
Jim Bowie took a stand at the Alamo
When he had been ordered to retreat
He was perhaps protecting his hoard of gold found in some lost central Texas mine next to Mexicans and the twisting mesquite
Austin has a city limits
Full of out of state conceit
And it's a two day crossing
While it's snowing on one side
The other is summer heat
They grow sugar cane in the south
Up north winter wheat
My sister was born forsaken
In Wichita Falls complete
Black widow spiders , scorpions
The backyard full of rattlesnakes
That we used to beat
She was the only rose
that had the Yellow hair
And when she left Texas
She never went back there
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
God made me into a marionette
He pulled me from the dust
He scooped me out of coals.
He breathed life into my belly
and now they call me animated earth.
He carved my bones from alabaster stones
long buried under piles of pine needles and leaves
He sang songs of Light and Life
and put them in my ears
and taught me all the words
and cut me silver keys.
now i stand up tall
like the Lighthouse of Alexandria
or the Colossus of Rhodes
i take showers under jungle waterfalls
full of orchid petals
and with angel fish climbing up the rock walls.
my head and all my limbs are hanging by
golden silken strings and threads
and where I walk the moss and lichens grow.
He fashioned my eyes from glass
blown over the hot geysers
and sulfur springs
of thermopylae
and the salt basin dunes.
He plucked my pupils from the pregnant blackness
of the Void.
He struck them over steel and flint
and the sparks made it bright enough to see.
my heart is a time-piece
keeping minutes with its beats
like a great shadow cast behind a sphere.
the elements once kept me apart from me my identity,
I was a hungry ghost
walking around town like a hypodermic voodoo doll.
everytime I turned around
I tripped over another basket full of rattlesnakes
hissing from both ends.
I gave up and crossed my heart
and gave it over to the chemical egregore
hoping I would die while somehow staying alive
and learning how to fly away home-
so i could leave all the piles of ashes and teeth alone
and maybe plant a rose garden.
but God made of me a marionette
strung me up from strings of silken gold.
He breathes for me,
and dances me to the music of the spheres
and now the whole planet is a
Hanging Garden of the Fallen Babylon
and now I keep snakes
as exotic pets
and as company
when i’m lonely
and for afternoon tea.
May 21, 2022
May 21, 2022 at 5:16 PM UTC
--------x-----------x--------------x-----------x---------
*Where rattlesnakes are sliding across a prairie forgotten,
And the western wind twirls up a twirling dustbowl
Whispers upon the wind, ancient voices of our ancestors
Across the land of the wild buffalo, and ancient crowe
When time unwinds and more than silence can be heard,
Just hold on silently for a moment, and listen closely
Sometimes a young child's cry, sometimes a jubilant laugh
Many voices of our ancestors, A sweet song of long ago*
--------x-----------x--------------x-----------x---------
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
There once lived a family of rats, caught up in wires and tubes and they probably thought they had it good until
the car started.
That car’s air conditioning smelled like death stench for weeks, until we
got it looked at.
Who knew we killed a family, who knew they ate their way under the hood,
who knew we killed a family and they reminded us of it for weeks.
——
My mother and father killed my dog, barely big enough to not be called a puppy anymore,
they ran over her,
as she slumbered in the tall weeds and grasses of a field.
——
We had a chicken named Thumper, his body grew big but his head never did,
and he teetered and tottered on ballerina pointed feet, and
the other roosters wanted to
eat him alive.
When we sacrificied him,
my parents plucked his back,
and they saw that his skin was a green-purple secret,
hidden by a humpback and so
many feathers.
——
Our third horse got caught in the river.
Big Mama got caught in Little River.
I guess it’s not surprising when big things die when they get caught in little things.
——
The coyotes got the rest of the chickens.
——
The rattlesnakes almost got the rest of the horses.
——
Most people don’t know that farm-fresh eggs are covered in blood.
——
We had two of the largest, ugliest geese.
They flew away.
——
The cat died under the hot tub,
we couldn’t find her for days.
——
The forest is always a graveyard,
is always hallowed ground,
is where we buried the animals.
Then they built a subdivision.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
In Rattlesnake City
The moonlight had never shined
Poison reigned supreme
A small lamb offered his life
Bitten in his heart
Leaving a ****** red scar
The rattlesnakes mocked his tomb
A lion appeared
With a crown upon his head
His subjects shouted
As the rattlesnakes were consumed
The mooonlight then beamed
On this noble conqueror
The red scar on his heart glowed
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
high altitudes and attitudes
my wooden altar is not a large one, yet it floats
above this mountain town in planks of rotting wood.
soft peaks rise behind the tunnel of garbage that builds
in drifts along my temple railings
at this altitude i assumed i would inhale the air of gods, elevated
so much more than physically above the grit and rattlesnakes
but the smell of hot trash is on the wind
as i exude his poison in red splashes of desert fauna and
a smile sways at my mouth, bloodless,
as i descend back into scarab
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 8:12 PM UTC
The lone hungry coyote
Sends up a wraith's refrain
Sun melts in a crucible
Of purgatory pain.
The badlands. No man's land.
The sun bleeds crimson, rust.
Rattlesnakes and scorpions
Scuttle in the dust.
While the sky is falling
Making russet snow
The hills and rock are singing
The agony they know.
Unforgiving desert
Makes the bobcat scream
The moon face is crying
It's tears moan and gleam.
In a dream you take me
O'r the Martian scape
Your hand locked round my mind
Preventing my escape
Turquoise/silver stars
Fall onto my path
Just like Armageddon
Or its aftermath.
Black opals flame the hills
The brutal badland's tors
To hush my ragged breathing
Now... forevermore.
Soul Survivor
C. Jarvis (c) 2014
March 16
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Demand the climate obeys orders.
seek vengeance on the scientists if it declines.
turn over the redwoods to the firing squad
for taking a stand.
shake a fist at the sky till it blushes.
request the clams to clam up till you're done talking.
hide the fish in the sea
because everyone needs one.
Expect the mule to make up its mind.
tempt the desert with some water.
torture the water with some desert.
attack the salt flats for being too dry.
file a complaint against the rattlesnakes
for causing such a ruckus.
question the cactus till they give up their values.
Force the leaves to show their true colors.
slaughter the weeds 'cause they don't belong here.
silence the wind till it agrees to stop singing.
moon the moon for serving moonshine.
sentence squirrels to a life without acorns.
terrorize the trees to do your ***** work.
Infringe on the kumquat's rights.
bury the berries, uproot the roots,
ravage the cabbage, spoil the soil.
arrange the oranges to reflect the sun.
lecture the watermelons on how
you scalped more natives than anyone.
declare war on the avocados to prove your point.
Nag the children to bear the weight on their shoulders.
rifle through the planets to find what you want.
crack open a book and read a poem
that defines this all as the
End.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:41 AM UTC
"Howdy, mam! My name's Rusty. You can trust me."
"How do? I'm Sally. This haint my ole corral."
"With due respect, you're fresh, this place is *****
"You slick cowboys know what to say to a gal."
"Our eyes locked like a couple of rattlesnakes."
"Mister, yer makin' a terrible mistake.
I do feel somethin' fer ya, but I'm caught here."
"Well, I'll just have ta uncetch ya, Sal ma dear."
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
Remember when I saw the good in life?
Remember when I saw through the haze?
Remember when I hated sitting idly for days?
Those times are over. Done.
All I want to do is float, coast
Painless, without feeling
Numb is fine
Numb is safe
Numbness is mine
To have and to hold
Always reliable and guaranteed
Never let me down, no need
I can’t explain it.
A dream deferred:
Forced to observe,
Live vicariously through people
For the rest of my life.
Watch, facilitate, no thanks.
What can you do in life
If you can’t do all that you’ve dreamed?
Sit and swallow it?
Try to believe?
I’m just coasting through,
Trying to find my way,
But my way is filled with potholes,
***** traps, and rattlesnakes.
Doesn’t my head realize-
It’s my heart that’s at stake?
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 1:01 AM UTC
Nostalgia is poison seeped in my veins
I remember that last sad smile as you turned away from me
Though it has been years some thing never fade
Like the pleasure the first time our eyes were blessed to meet
Through fire and brimstone, demons and hell
That immense joy always linger, threatening to ****
What little sanity I had, and though until now I've survived
This nostalgia is killing me, making we wish for
One last time
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
I was born in the desert, over 30 years ago
rattlesnakes were thick as thieves there
ghosts of the ancient ones still roam
and i'd lay out on the porch at night
my hands stuffed in my pockets
listen to coyotes howl
I was 5 years old then
the days pass so quick
the years seem to escape us all somehow
I was raised in the rocky mountains
cold autumn wind and winters snow
my dad would play us kids the banjo
by the light of the fires glow
we all grow and theres so many things i miss
memories treasured till the end
live and learn
find the truth and watch it burn
maybe the answer is just blowing in the wind
and it seems to me that its time to leave
feels like saying goodbye to a dear old friend
the time has come what happened to forever young
oh i hope one day our paths will cross again.
life it doesnt always aim to shoot you straight
and that one lesson i have learned
the education of a wandering man
is the education i have earned
(c) 2012 CJG
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
We watch for rattlesnakes as we walk
And after nearly bitten by death
Grab them by their gleeful heads
Deep holes we dig
Soon doused in gasoline
Where the creatures are flung atop their brethren
The devil's eyebrows curling into one another
Soon enough
The sparks fly from our feet
Slabs of flint scraping and gliding
Calling ourselves civilized as we waltz above
The rattling of natural beauty
Aug 23, 2024
Aug 23, 2024 at 8:51 PM UTC
- for Jim Harrison
The very definition of Exuberance,
life squeezed of life's juices drop by drop.
each lovely female bottom lovingly observed and graded.
every delectable morsel chewed to digestive ecstasy;
wine and bourbon straining like blossoms in springtime;
trout, bear, javelina and ravens known personally;
rivers encountered both above and within;
genuine tears evoked by dogs past;
appetites that won't be denied;
sentences that strike like rattlesnakes;
that lone, probing eye
that even Galileo would have envied.
A Man in the old sense, disappearing,
content with love, nature and war;
what writer could hope
to be anything more?
- mce
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
Have you ever
stopped and considered
where all those
typewriters went?
I am just eccentric
enough to do so.
I imagine them in
a heap lofty as K-2
somewhere in
the Nevada desert
mothballed by the CIA
against the time
when words become
scarce and expensive.
In the meantime,
when the stars
align just right
they chatter out
massifs of sentences
that are only
published in silence
and read by rattlesnakes
and passing coyotes.
It is a such sad thing
to outlast your audience.
~mce
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Tucumcari
Route 66 was lonely
Except for the two of us
We stopped and took some photos
If we ever make a CD
One of those photos will be on the cover of it
A bumpy road in the middle of nowhere
turned the red car brown
It was veterans day
And the romantic desert sunset
was interrupted by the wild turkey
We talked to it
It responded
We laughed
Back at the cow camp
we put longhorn burgers on the grill
Except for the sparks from the fire
it was completely silent
I've never felt such peace before
I've never seen such a black sky before
Despite the warning signs of diamondback rattlesnakes
I slept like a baby
And when I woke up
I caught the most beautiful sunrise I've ever seen
And once again
It was interrupted by
the Wild Turkey
Gobble, gobble
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC