—Poems and Artwork by Norman J. Olson, Maplewood, MN
nature poem #27
Blackbirds flutter in branches
Which are black lines
Hung with tattered
Leaves. The west wind watches
Swollen clouds that hang
Like shrouds above the Mississippi
River valley. Aspen and pine
Trees
Hold hands and quiver.
The blackbirds don’t care.
Between the tank farms that line the
Buff-colored bluff like broken
Teeth
And the river that sparkles like shattered
Glass,
Old tires stretch, languid as dead bodies
In the sun.
new meat
it doesn’t seem to matter
much to me
if this
dipshit gets elected
instead of that one. spiral galaxies
will still
whirl through space
like pinwheels
on ice
toy balloons are full of truth
James Ensor gets on his
knees and licks
the mauve and green
flat screen. imaginary elephants
go extinct
before imaginary crowds
of starving children.
I am my meat…
e-mail from the San Fernando Valley
fine ribbons of sand
ripple in the parking
lot of insanity. plastic forks float
in rivers of corn sweetener
at
dying diners
and fast food joints.
the autopsy is over and
the eviscerated corpse
is fit now only for
a television cop show.
cars move along
Roscoe Blvd. and the bone-
white sun
slaps asphalt. the terrible
green of palmetto
blinks in the parking
lot
of the Laurel Canyon Mall.
ribbons of sand glisten and
listen for the long-gone
voice
of
the
desert.
Skyline Oil
friends with Orion
walking down McKnight Road,
I wave to Orion…
who is really nothing more
than a handful
of stars
cartwheeling behind ragged pine
trees
is the electric sky a video screen
imaginary
monsters swim through
suburban shrubbery
carrying
rage and semi-automatic
weapons in their
hands… this early morning
quiet is just the
prelude… I arrive at the bus
stop… Orion
waves
back
Man Sketches
another evening in Maplewood
insane robots with porcelain eyes
blink at me
from the corners
and from cracks in the plaster…
they tear their plastic hair
with tiny titanium
fingers…
images scream across the flat screen
discs the size and shape of the
sun
settle behind the curtains
and just beyond the windows… my
eyeballs
roll across
the dusty
floor
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
We are making music for the human race, and even beings from other galaxies are welcome to vibe with us.
—J. Balvin
___________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Norman Olson from Minnesota for his tantalizing poems and artwork this morning! Hey—wave to Orion!
—Anonymous
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
