Another starlit Hemetucky night,
Finds me listening to one of my many,
Many Bonnie Raitt CDs.
Metaphorically speaking,
We must lick her ****.
Give her the recognition
She indubitably deserves.
10 GRAMMYs?
Listed as number 50 in
Rolling Stone Magazine's
100 Greatest Singers of All Time;
Number 89 on their list of the
100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time!
Lists? We humans love lists.
The HUAC loved lists also.
And while we’re on the subject of lists,
What list has your name been added to?
A statistical anomaly worthy of further
Investigation by our Big Brother in Bluff, UT,
Those guys tracking anyone goo-goo,
Googling my name, my poetry,
The poetry of Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto,
My UNpublished poetry, i.e.,
By definition, nothing in print,
Nothing between book covers,
Nothing you can get your hands on.
Merely cyber-effervescence,
An Off World ether,
An ether although vaporous,
A digital fingerprint, nonetheless:
Quickly identifiable,
Easily reducible,
An entirely redacted,
Boiled down, cooked down roux.
A roux you’ll rue? Perhaps.
Not to mention the kanga roo,
ROO as in secret, offshore
Kangaroo courtrooms.

So know, know you’re on a list.
One of numerous Watch Lists
Watched by the Watchers who
Watch people like us.
So, if you’re reading this online,
Don’t say I didn’t frickin warn you.

BONNIE RAITT:
Of particular interest is her brilliant cover of –
Her complete musical reupholstering of--
Del Shannon’s neonatal 60s-era classic:
“Runaway.”
That twang slide-bass intro.
That harmonica squeal hovering above;
Those long, pulsing instrumentals
Punctuating her grit.  Her heart.
Her dark & lonely childhood
That drew her to true roots music.
Like me, born in 1949--
Unlike me: in Burbank, California.
Daughter of Broadway Musical Star
John Raitt: a true Roadie,
If ever there was one
Bonnie sent to private Quaker schools,
Banished to pricey summer camps.
Routine experience for any child of
Successful entertainers on the road,
Again. (Sing it, Willie!)
Bonnie: denied nothing but
Parental time invested.
Consumed by a drive to
Get the man’s attention,
Daddy’s little girl,
Addicted to ******. Fade out:
“I wah-wah-wah-wah wonder.
If you will stay, my run, run, run
My little runaway,
Come back baby,
My runaway.”

A man once told me, "Never write a movie where a man is left shouting after a woman who is sure to return"

I was raised by wolves and Don Quixote
lead with(in) the heart; regret with(in) the brain
dead weight hangs hungry in my chest
I see fear creep in my knees
my teeth are looking to be tested
my skin is stained like a constellation capricorn gemini pisces
I am my own galaxy:
only porcelain angels looking over me
backstage pass to my caterpillar identity crisis
My imagination (machinations of muddled emotions) was waiting for someone like you

His laugh rattles my subconscious and decomposes my rigor mortis
kiss youmeus like your tongue was made of money
finger me as much as I do my hair
I like sinking into your mind; it's warm in here
Eggs&Baco;;
bread & butter
you're the apple pie to my adam's apple (with all the cavities)
I'm a headless chicken framing instant coffee amber memories
ice cream melts the closer I get to the sun...

It rained today.
Some statues talk, some people have nothing to say;
who will you dip in gold and call your temple?
Why does it have to be art and not just us?
you're just another outlet mall; your sheep are in Leeds
the shoes are from your closet and I need reupholstering
my feet will go where they dare but
the yellow brick road is turmeric and
shame
I'm on a deserted island and all I see are birds
all my doors have a neon EXIT sign
It began and ended with the Space Odyssey-

"Martha!"