if i was a pearl i’d feel itchy scratchy stuck inside an oyster shell if i was a tree i’d  be a big fat redwood fantasizing about Julia Butterfly Hill living and peeing around me if i was a dog i’d be a Catahoula hound if i was Italian i’d be Sicilian if i was pasta i’d be spaghetti if i was Icelandic i’d be Bjork if i was a rock star i’d be Elvis Presley Bob Dylan Jimi Hendrix Jim Morrison John Lennon Bruce Spingsteen Maynard James Keenan if i was i writer i’d be Herman Melville Mark Twain James Joyce William Faulkner Thomas Bernhard Yukio Mishima Naguib Mahfouz Phillip K. **** Gabriel Garcia Marquez Annie Proulx Lydia Davis if i was a poet i’d be Walt Whitman Sylvia Plath Ted Hughes Gwendolyn Brooks Pablo Neruda  Heather McHugh Carl Sandburg Robert Frost Arthur Rimbaud Dante Alighieri Homer if i was a painter i’d be Leonardo Da Vinci Michelangelo da Caravaggio Johan Vermeer Rembrandt van Rijn Paul Cezanne Marcel Duchamp Jackson ******* Mark Rothko Ad Reinhardt Anselm Kiefer Susan Rothenberg if i was a photographer i’d be Man Ray Ansel Adams Edward Weston Diane Arbus Robert Mapplethorpe Sally Mann Helmut Newton Richard Avedon Annie Leibovitz if i was a philosopher i’d be Socrates Plato Aristotle Jean Jacques Rousseau Sören Kierkegaard Immanuel Kant Karl Marx Georg Hegel Friedrich Nietzsche Henry David Thoreau Ralph Waldo Emerson  Jean-Paul Sartre Jean Baudrillard Michel Foucault if i was a singer i’d be Woody Guthrie Otis Redding Grace Slick Bob Marley Joni Mitchell Marvin Gaye Johnny Cash Patsy Cline June Carter Patti Smith Chrissie Hinde Nick Cave P J Harvey Beyonce if i wa a band i’d be Velvet Underground Ramones *** Pistols Clash Cure Smiths Joy Division Uncle Tupelo Pixies Nirvana Nine Inch Nails Madrugada Sigur Ros White Stripes Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra Justice of the Unicorns if i was a boot i’d be Chippewa Frye Ariat Red Wing Tony Lama Wellington if i was a shoe i’d be Christian Louboutin Jimmy Choo Kedds Chaco Chuck Taylor p f flyer if i was a dress i’d be Channel Dolce & Gabbanna Giorgio Armani Marc Jacobs Comme des Garçons if i was a cowboy shirt i’d be H bar C Rockmount Temp Tex Karman Wrangler Levis Strauss Lee if i was a hat i’d be a Stetson Borsalino Stephen Jones if i was a fruit i’d be a mango apple banana blackberry if i was an scent i’d smell like fresh perspiration jasmine sandalwood ylang ylang the ocean if i was a doctor i’d be a gynecologist neurosurgeon if i was a flower i’d be a hibiscus rose orchard if i was a stone i’d be a sparkling ruby diamond opal if i was a knife i’d be a k-bar switch-blade machete if i was a gun i’d be a Remington Winchester Beretta Glock AK-47 if i was a car i’d be a Lamborghini Ferrari BMW Saab Volkswagen GTO Ford Mustang Dodge Challenger if i was a  TV show i’d be Law and Order if i was actor i’d be Charlie Chaplin Humphrey Bogart Steve McQueen Robert De Niro Ed Norton Shawn Penn if i was an actress i’d be Marlene Dietrich Ingrid Bergman Natalie Wood Audrey Hepburn Marilyn Monroe Helen Mirren  Meryil Streep Brigette Fonda Robin Wright Julianne Moore Angie Harmon if i was a female comedian i’d be Gilda Radner Lily Tomlin Nora Dunn Joan Cusack Sarah Silverman Tina Fey if i was a  football player i’d be Sid Luckman George Blanda Walter Payton **** Butkus Mike Singletary Joe Montana Jerry Rice Payton Manning LaDanian Tomlinson  Drew Breeze if i was a celebrity i’d be Charlotte Gainsbourg if i was a rapper i’d be Tupac Shakur if i was a movie director i’d be Sam Peckinpah Robert Altman Stanley Kubrick Roman Polanski Werner Herzog Rainer Fassbinder Louis Bunuel Alfred Hitchcock Jean-Luc Godard François Truffaut if i was a bird i’d be a eagle hawk sparrow bluebird if i was a fish i’d be a dolphin shark narwhal Charlie the tuna if i was breakfast i’d be a French toast pancake folded in half with 2 strips of bacon in between if i was a cold cereal i’d be snap crackle popping rice crispies shredded wheat cheerios oatmeal if i was tea i’d be Japanese green matcha Irish breakfast Tulsi Thai holy basil Lapsang souchong Luzianne Lipton if i was a soap i’d be French hand milled ayurvedic Avon Ivory Dove Pears Aveda  if i was a man i’d be a football basketball baseball tennis swimmer athlete if i was a woman i’d be a track star runner writer painter gardener doctor nurse yoga mom i'm just scratching the surface and the beat goes on lahdy dah dah

A brand new sheriff came to town
I'm sure he's not the last
We've had fourteen in the past year
They leave here mighty fast

Some can't stand the pressure
Others end up in boot hill
It ain't easy being Sheriff
Here in Cactus Mill

He was tall, compared to most folks
That's what the undertaker said
"I'm just scouting for the future"
"In case he ends up dead"

He went into his office
Fired both deputies on sight
He said "you wanna get your job back"
"Then, you'll have to do it right"

"I don't hanker to disruptions"
"In the town ... I rule"
"The laws all must be followed"
"Now, boys...it's time for school"

"We're gonna have a meeting"
"You can follow, or can go"
"I'm gonna clean this town up"
"I just thought you both should know"

He'd printed off some flyers
Had them passed out by the men
It was scheduled for the Baptist Church
It was due to start at ten

He cleaned up and got ready
A good impression he would give
Because this man's demeanor
Chose who'd die and who would live

At nine fifteen he left and went
To the church, to say a prayer
He thought it would be empty
But found half the town was there

We waited till the church bells
Chimed ten times ...and he began
"I'm here to be your Sheriff"
"I'll do the best job that I can"

"I don't like injustice"
"Wrong doers...they must pay"
"I like to keep things, well..in house"
"I make decisions in  a day"

"I'm like a judge and jury"
"I hold my own cowboy kind of court"
"I'm like Roy Bean, I guess you'd say"
"It's my town...It is my fort"

"Gunfights, just won't happen"
"If they do, both men are dead"
"One, because he lost it...."
"The other, cause I said"

"Drinking...keep it local"
"Stay inside at the saloon"
"Don't wander the streets at night"
"Standing, howling at the moon"

"You can wear your guns in town"
"But, I don't want to see them out"
"If I do, then you can bet"
"You'll learn fast, what my court is all about"

"Now, coming in, two miles out"
"I saw a sturdy tree"
"The only one who hangs from it"
"Will be decided on....by me"

"Lynchings...not on my watch"
"Rustling....don't you try"
"The rules all must be followed"
"If not....you'll surely die"

"I have a length of rope with me"
"It's been stretched 'bout twenty times"
"Add one more...it's twenty one"
"So, don't commit no crimes"

"I also have two friends right here"
"Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson"
"Don't make them come on out to play"
"If they do , you'll learn your lesson"

"Back at the jail, there is one more"
"A right old sturdy gun"
"If Smith and Wesson do not work"
"Then you'll meet...Remington"

"I hope that you will follow"
"The rules that I lay down"
"Cactus Mill is pretty"
"I like this little town"

"I might be the new Sheriff"
"And I want to be your friend"
"The choice is which one do you want"
"A long life...or early end?"

He shook the preachers hand then
And he walked on out the door
The towns folk sat in silence
You could hear a feather hit the floor

Now, the question....Did this Sheriff
Clean up little Cactus Mill?
Did Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson
Keep his hide out of Boot Hill?

I watched him light up a cigarette behind the bleachers during lunch break, as I always did.  I examined the way he drew it to his lips and wrapped them around the filter so softly, but strong and sultry at the same time.  I could see through him; deep into his soul.  This is one of the perks of being so distant, and observant of others.  It’s not like I’m some loser with no friends, I prefer to be alone.  Why go sit with a bunch of people you can’t stand just so you don’t have to go through the “embarrassment” of sitting alone?  Well I say ***** that!  I’d much rather be by myself listening to the music that they’ve never heard of¸ watching them scurry shamelessly trying to be well liked by others.  
Anyhow, even his name sets him apart from the others: Chase Marcum.  He’s got the perfect combination of characteristics to make him tool of the century, but he’s not; he’s actually like me.  I want to go up and talk to him some time, but since he is like me, he’d probably just brush me off, assuming I was one of the people that I, that we, despise.  The lunch bell rings, and everyone trickles back into the building for more unwanted learning; everyone except Chase of course.  No lunch bell can tell him to stub out his cigarette.  He smokes it down until there is only one centimeter left to the filter.  
He strolls into class five minutes late and the teacher doesn’t even say a word.  I wish I could be untouchable like that.  As Mrs. Hammond drones on about the inner-workings of a cell, I sink into the inner-workings of my imagination.  I doze off and begin to dream about Chase.  I’m in the hallway and one of the lovely bullies of Remington High decides to stick their foot out just enough so that I can’t see it to prepare for the fall to my doom.  He walks away while still looking at me, pointing and laughing.  Everyone joins in, until Chase comes along and sticks his foot out just enough for the bully to topple down a small flight of stairs.  That made everyone laugh a lot harder.  
       He helps me pick up my books, and we walk outside for lunch, together.  Once we get to his bleacher spot, he smokes while I bite deep into my apple.  We converse about anything and everything that can be covered in twenty-five minutes.  When the bell rings, everyone leaves –  everyone except for us.  We become silent, our eyes locked onto each others.  He begins to caress my cheek and to speak to me, but there is no sound coming out.  I’m being ripped back to reality by the worst thing I could possibly hear: somebody shouting “Check it out, Taylor’s got a *****!”  OH. MY. GOD.  For the rest of my high school “experience” I’m gonna be that kid that got a ******* in science class.  Everyone was laughing at me, even the teacher, and I was just numb.  
        It seemed like an eternity before the laughter stopped; with the voice of what I thought was an angel.  I snapped back into it the moment I realized that my angel was Chase: “Hey guys give the kid a break, it’s not his fault Mrs. Hammond is so ****!”  I guess she was kinda ****… if you’re into that.  At least nobody knew what I was actually dreaming about.  This remark made Mrs. Hammond become furious.   She sent him to the principal’s office and me to the nurse.  We grabbed our bags and departed, together.  I didn’t know what to say.  What does someone say in a situation like this?  I just averted my eyes from him so I didn’t make things even more awkward than they already were.  After a brief silence save a few half-giggles, I got the moment I had been hoping for – Chase broke the silence:  “What, not even a thanks?”
        “Uh, sorry… I mean thank you.  It means a lot that you didn’t laugh at me.”
       “Well... I laughed a little on the inside, because you gotta admit, it is pretty ridiculous.  But that could happen to anybody and it’s just rude to point and laugh.  Plus it’s bad karma.”  I wasn’t sure if I should be offended by the fact that he laughed.  I guess it actually was “pretty ridiculous” though.  God I love that word.  Well I guess in the future when I think about this day, I can laugh a little along with the wanting to die feeling.  We approached the hall that led to the principal, secretary and nurse’s offices, but Chase went in the other direction.  “Where are you going?” I asked.  
       “I’m not going to the principal’s office for doing what’s right.  Wanna ditch with me?”  
I normally wouldn’t skip out on class, but before I could even begin to contemplate the consequences, I agreed.  One of the most embarrassing and traumatic incidences in my life happened just minutes before, but I was walking on air.

When the angels fell, all hell broke loose
I was doing bad from the drug abuse
You could see it in my face, that I was loaded
Nodding out on some dope, but still was holding That 1911 long one hand gun
That's ah Remington model, step up you done
I said you done, *** the angels have fallen
Ese everyone burn and become the departed

C Rock, this are biblical times
That's what my mother say so it's word to the wise The *** accumulating, so keep it in mind
False prophets all around and they feindind for mine I pull up all my roots, my Aztec pride
They threw our knowledge in the fire and we'll think we died All lost, *** some of us survive We accepted their religion then we multiplied Got my life, is to live by the knife
Your kids don't listen got ah *** for ah wife
Last night, I heard some shots outside
And go inside with the news where the crew just died Is it the work of the Devil, Lucifer
Is he behind it all, is he the saver tour
Masseur, Co O Ene Ese look up at the sky, something's falling from heaven

When the angels fell, all hell broke loose
I was doing bad from the drug abuse
You could see it in my face, that I was loaded
Nodding out on some dope, but still was holding That 1911 long one hand gun
That's ah Remington model, step up you done
I said you done, *** the angels have fallen
Ese everyone burn and become the departed

Ese caught up in the violence that we go through daily He might be ah rival or someone don't pay me It's crazy, that it got me blazing Weak coco puff's and the sht don't fade me Try to cage me, like ah animal
*** I eat muthf*kas like ah cannibal
Highly flammable, unexplosive mix
Let me hit up on this wall, Conejo Trix
Ese ghost satellites light up the night
And information travel with the speed of light
I'ma win, of all this things And all the devastation that the others could bring The street could buy ah logic Co. and chemical weapons It's all going down, in just ah few seconds Stay with me, till the very end
Homie something bout to happen sky falling again

When the angels fell, all hell broke loose
I was doing bad from the drug abuse
You could see it in my face, that I was loaded
Nodding out on some dope, but still was holding That 1911 long one hand gun
That's ah Remington model, step up you done
I said you done, *** the angels have fallen
Ese everyone burn and become the departed

Love—sometimes too
abstract, but I know it lives
in slow songs played
in the backseat of my car.
I know it ripples down
your tongue as I lick, kick
and grab.
I know it shocks your
backbone as I place my
hand under and over and
in-between.

Love—sometimes too
abstract, but I found it
resting on a fallen branch
in a park.
I found it in the bottom of
a chocolate malt.
I found it caught in a
rabbit trap.

Love—sometimes too
abstract, but I see it
in you.
And it smiles back,
amber, un-blistered,
and perfect.

now—

let me **** on those
*****-sweated fingers, and I
promise I will *******
on my vintage Remington
typewriter.

Now it might be hard to understand
But just for a moment I ask that you try to comprehend
The idea, the marvel, the miracle
Of learning love’s true definition from a child less than 3 years young

Her name was Amelia Lyon, but she was called Amy Lou
And her hair was up like Whoville’s own Cindy Lou Who
Dr. Suess would’ve been proud
I’m sure he would’ve loved Amelia, as did every single person of every single crowd

We would bring her with us to Disneyland
The happiest place on earth for both woman and man
And little Amy loved every second of it
With a wide smile, never crying, not even a bit

Bearing the power of a simple smile, and a thousand suns
She would light the very streets she crossed

Reaching out and attacking strangers was far from seldom
With a beautiful kiss of innocence, sincerity, we watched as joy would blossom

Did she discriminate?
Did she decide who to incriminate?
No, you see, Amelia would never
If someone was hurt, and broken, she could make all things better

A beautiful soul
To match a beautiful girl
I learned, let me tell you
What true love is, something new
Something that is rarely practiced
But only talked about, and the fact is
I’ve never seen love quite like this!

It was sincere, and it was real and it was amazing
A special perspective, a new trail she was blazing
And now I know what true love is
Humble, supportive, and nonjudgemental
Kind, gorgeous and always gentle

Thank You, Amy Lou.
One day, I hope to be like you.

But now she's gone, at two and a half you were taken from us
So unique, Heaven, God, and the Angels were jealous
Do I feel robbed? Do I feel cheated?
Certainly not! Because I know who I shall see when I am greeted

There she will be, adorable and precious
That gleaming smile with a child’s eyes
At the opening of the Gates, it will be glorious
Because finally, that disguise, that shroud of earthliness
Will have been torn away, and we will forever be united again

My baby sister, my Amelia Lyon, my Amy Lou
I miss you so very dearly, my little Cindy Lou Who
With love, bittersweet tears, and a heart deeply aching
Your brother, Remington Charles King

Isn't it strange living in another person's head?
It's like Being John Malkovich,
or Anne Sexton
as I rode along with her
wild rides into sand at the beach,
lost in Boston again,
inside a mind
that was different but still mine
because I saw
that very street lamp she did,
and in her advice to me,
that yet unborn memory
that would never be,
I heard her words in soft puffs
of nicotine-scented tickles
in my ear, warm air
before young lungs
had ever breathed in,
and I cried
because she was speaking to me,
though she never knew it
when the words clattered
from that old Remington
like a machine gun-
I was just an idea
she never really had,
a wish in soft feathery hair
on the chest of man
she shared lust with as he slept,
not knowing he would father
a specter delivered from a womb
that had closed for business.
Our walks
along an asylum lawn,
returning waves
to suspicious grass,
green oceans to get lost in
after sewing leather wallets
from our own hardened skins
as if projects could ever fix
the worlds of sin we lived in,
pandering doctors offering
officious pretense of cure
against the sweet furies
of sunrises, sunsets,
earth worms and *****.
So, can I cry
having crossed a divide
into another,
for moments residing
in the soul and belly of a mother
who was never mine,
though I feel her pain
as if we own it together?

While I type on my old Remington typewriter
my latest poems
the dawn enters through the window like a shy maiden in love

I closed my eyes
and felt the ground vibrate
as the Huskavarna roared to life
and chewed through log after log
devouring fibers
and depositing sawdust
the smell filled my nose
and a smile passed my lips
fresh fir in the morning
the crash of timber in the distance
the hush that fell upon the forest during lunch –
muted thumping trancelike and rhythmic
each round hit with a maul
and then bashed with the sledge
tossing split rounds
into stacks on the truck bed
perfect dance performed by the woodcutter –
the rumbling tires against the gravel road
sent me to slumber
the crunching mixed with the gentle rocking
fighting until the very last
trying desperately to hear
the low murmur
of my father and uncle Steve
telling tall tales
of 600 yard coyote kills
with just one blast
from the old 2-23 Remington
and the 40 lb. salmon
still swimming with a 20 dollar jig –

He enters. A stiff morning jowl
can be heard clicking.
And, in early grievance,
the second man’s clock speeds its ticking.
He lies lulling himself (lamenting)
while lockjaw bends down,
knees cracking.
Behind the fold that blinds the floored man
a “D” engrained from cigarette ads,
After smell of the first’s wafts over.
An emphysemic growl is left ringing
on the ground; tumultuous hacking
kicks in like the cops that reside down in Brixton.  
Wheeze, hack, and cough, and cough. And cough.
(Silence) bearing down from the **** erectus
leads Remington to the Clark of the floored man’s
pounding chest.
Rest, rest; he tries to protest, but the cavalry
can’t hear his signs of duress.
And now slitting wrists, from inside the veins;
the invisible smoker never could be restrained.

i'm telling you now, leave.
i'll give you this one warning
before
i pull out my remington and shoot my lucky bullet straight into your heart.

too late

my boy, you're a soon to be dead man.
and me
i'm your death sentence.

make your last wish with pursed lips now.

i will do whatever i need too, to get you out of this head of mine.
i own this brain as tortured and mushy as it is
and you're merely trespassing.


you're the kid they use to shove into lockers, gone rouge.
the kid who's now well, not really a kid at all.

you hangout with the jocks these days,
go to a school full of yuppies
yeah. we all know your type and what you've turned into.

your transparent
might as well be glass.

generic.
simple.
gross.

but that lifestyle changed you into something new
and you morphed into something without a name

you were weak and
this world broke you.

that boy i fell in love with all those moons ago is dead now.

oh, well
time to go


so
here's the door.
and
there's  your shoes..

don't cut yourself too deep on the barbed wire
when you try to fit your pores through that fence


actually do

maybe then you won't come back and  will have finally learned
not to fight
fire
with
fire
and fist with fist


maybe then you won't haunt the halls in my head or the walk back home  

maybe then,
maybe.
maybe some day.

Remington 870 12-Gauge shot gun.
Your trigger would be so easy to pull.
Fully oiled and loaded clean. The shot would come out perfectly.
My head, would come off perfectly.
Tempting me. Calling out to me. One 60 cent shell, one $500 gun, and one..
     "Priceless" Life. Right...
Maybe the only thing priceless that comes out of me would be the red on the canvas behind me.
Painted with all the reds in my head.
The red tape I could never cut. The red rage burning inside me. The red passion, Lost. And last, the red blood, Useless.

Why I did not, I can't understand.

Just like i told ya
ya can't stop the reign as i bring the pain
more than major playa hatas
move over theres a new sheriff in town
puff by the pound its goin' down in htown
time to ****** crowns off unknown clowns whos rounds
ain't hittin' nothin' but air as i heir
the rhymes from my hip hop ancestry
like i said who spit it better than me
****** is what i write check the obituary even burn ya cemetery
while enemies stay worried i stay buried
with rhymes that pull like tech 9s through ya mind
as ya touch the flat line
give em pump up so he get the adrenaline
up only to get knocked the ****** up
by the mister evil sinister preach lyrics as a minister
this ain't the last inning we goin' all out til we fall out
got guns that clear the skies out
nuclear blast spin around emceez like taz hit ya with jazz razzamatazz
that's the sounds of gats bustin' that ***
left ya body soakin' breath chokin' hopin'
to make it but can't shake it as i mold it then break it
like my last drip a *** i shake it
til its nothing left cook up these lyrics like a chef
even make ears open of the deaf
cuz my lyrics be so powerful irresistible hard for ya know to go
and bob ya head to my **** i hit like rockets
outta space loose ya paper chase
for tryna step into yosefs face with that disgrace
that ******* you call hip hop? i got heat tha'tll make ya lip lock
hip go hippy to the hop nawnot talkin' sugar hill
deliver more dead than clothes to Goodwill
we ***** as the Goodfellas
knockin' tailfeathers money come like atm tellers
no pin codes toxic rhymes poisonous as donna,bella




**** your stocks and bonds we score buckets plus and ones
money by the ton pack more Steele than Remington
still reigning as champion slappin' youngin's
like this chick I knew named jalel made em sign his weak will
didn't know the feel til he had to deal
with yosef bustin' more shots than Kobe ya owe me
ya flow is weak and non threatening as I swing
on vocal chords Words sharp as a sword I be the rap Lord
respect ya sire ya smoking to much fire get rolled on like tires consequences be dire as I rewire the game got ya trippin on cordless wires Mic plugged into the amplifiers
once I spit on tracks its magic like bird n Jordan's in eighties classic
****** hawks the late night ya need to flow right cuz ya losing sight circling the drain going insane against ya grain leave ya bloodstains
on ya window pane couldn't stand the rain
It'll take years for ya just to drain yosef be insane sleepless and vain
cocky but not sloppy my flows penetrate like tv's to mind state
it's too late to redeem yaself just **** ya self a
nd leave the rappin' to me
I'll beat ya worse than Troy back in BC
boooyahh!

~


pasture grass warm and sticky complete
with distant goats chewing and
kicking up in play
from the creek side a flash of black
just enough residual periphery to startle the herd
square pupils dart and scan
while floppy jowls with stringy drool watches from the pampas

first sprinting left then
darting back to the right and circling around
the 2 year old Lab pup pretends to Collie
attempting to direct the herd
without any human direction

from the faded red door a farmer appears
straw between lips
hands deep in overall pockets
quietly surveying all that is his when at once
a disturbance is noticed
goats darting around in frantic worry
being chased by one hundred pounds of Labrador fury
reaching just inside of the doorjamb
the old farmer pulled forth a 243 Remington
took steady aim
and shot the menace attacking the bleaters


when we got back from the Country Fair the Thomas house had a funny air
and only Jimmy came to greet us
Roy was nowhere to be found
after a few hours of searching the forest and questioning
neighbors we were handed a red dog collar from the Dairy farmer
2 miles up the drive
they shot my dog for playing with goats on a Holstein farm
and so we gave up milk and though about revenge     /

Keep sharpening your teeth on my
iron fittings and feeling up my
velvet underground upholstery with
your streetwise alley cat paws and big
gun Remington revolver ballpoint pen
Try to rob these recondite rubies from my
helicopter heart if you can and
follow my complimentary contrail with
your caloric vocabulary until you tire of
my transom and finally bolt like the January wind
I might stay in midnight sight just barely long
enough for my spinnaker curls to furl in twists
around your wrists and make you my
pie in the sky prisoner forever

Written by Sara Fielder © May 2015

righteous is as righteous does
and I so love my neighbor's wife
don't need no lawyers just a justice of
the peace a keg of beer some
pork chicken
and charcoal 'round here
a bit of dirt to kick 'round
four wheel drive
a Remington
and two bits
'round these parts

Ashtrays over flowing once again
my lungs breathe in argument
how many bottles were consumed
in last nights red tide abandon

it shows itself in
scrunched
paper mache *****
that litter the floor

Remington ribbons
dehydrated
akin to my grey matter

we both yearn for a chalice
of inspiration
to rouse the "click clack"
of old abandoned keys........

the
redtail hawk
have eyes
the
color of
cold blue Remington steel
thus
her eyes
pierce
through
the
soul
to
catch her prey

The strait of California
returned as the Gods ripped
the golden state free
from America.

The Shamans cried for
New Albion as the great
city fell into the sea.

Above the cries, the falling rain
and the crashing sounds of
what can only be called The End
came the voice of certainty.
"There's no stopping this."

The waters above and
the waters below all
moved with the
deep lakes, the crashing falls
and the thawing glaciers.

Thunder clouds were just
to block our view.
The snaking rivers and
the gentle streams
flowed with the winter run off.
Flooded city streets,
washed out state highways.

California will once again
be an island soon.

The Law of reversal rules
people's lives if they say
its "This" it's almost always "That."
2012 or 21.
My Fathers
biggest fear was always
them coming for our guns.
My Remington and my.45,
those ******* in their holes
all waiting on us to die.

The canals and the sand bars
somebody big had to make.
The L.A river and those who live in it.
Sinkholes and hail storms.
All fall into endless wells
that flow on forever
keeping everything clean.

If you look for the signs you
can't help but see them.
Like rain in Los Angeles on
a Memorial day weekend.

So it was and the Gods
kept their promise
and everything was gone.

Standing on top
of an ancient Titan with
every anwser to
every question ever asked.

In this moment amongst
the debris the bodies
and the ever moving rushing waters
the man who knew everything
suddenly felt Small.

He starred in "Newhart", "***** Buddies" and "Baby Makes Five".
Sadly, his life ended on October 22, 2021, he was unable to survive.
In 2020, Scolari starred in a movie titled "Looks That ****".
He guest-starred in "Happy Days" and "Remington Steele".

He starred in movies titled "Dean", "Sorority Boys" and "Letting Go".
He starred in 66 episodes of "Honey, I Shrunk The Kids: The TV Show".
He guest-starred in "The Nanny", "The Love Boat" and "Family Ties".
He had Leukemia like my dad and it's sad when such a talented actor dies.

for Lee Miller

// LIBERATED FROM CAMPS //

born on foreign shore
falling beyond the crest of the equatorial horizon
to family washed up in a shipwrecked fleet
while fleeing the camps and tattoo stamps of war.

displaced and placed on a privileged pedestal
i pick and pluck the petals inside my mind
while the compass needle spins in distress
searching for direction and equilibrium.

in a basket with statues of stone faced settlers
and sunburnt segregation lawmakers
the shadow cast in concrete moulds
hangs over me unyielding to the African sun.

cultivating gritty soil in a field of weeds
to sow seeds for wings in the coming season
before taking flight from untarred runways
into skies of cosmic possibilities.

keys to my congenital shackles
and chastity belt of literary aspirations
lie above the clouds in faraway towns
or below the gravel of my local grave.

// REMINGTON SILENT //

under marching fingertips
the typewriter's pitter-patter tiptoed in silence
as if the letters punched were bandits
planting pamphlets of propaganda.

a poet wrote his last stanza in London
under downpour of blitzkrieg bomb storms
crushing the keys and mangling the machine
his words are all the remain.