it all started
with fish, my
fall from grace.
tonight it is
cold, but the lake is calm
and just beyond the shore there are
some men in a boat.
your G-d never gave me
visions. i am
just a sensitive man.
you looked so good in
the candlelight that
i was tempted to
tell you about how i
quit breathing but
you're such a masterful
liar that anything
i could say would be
revealed as bullshit.
time is cruel but
you have made
me happy with
the mundane.
you feed me noodles
and sushi and i
want to tell you
about the moon.
you speak your poems
so beautifully.
you speak the word
holy like it were the
wrath of G-d. the
time i spend in
your monastery cures
me of my depression.
perhaps i should write
about other things.
how boring our love
affair must seem.
everyone has been
in love but not
everyone has been
in love with you.
—Russell Vidrick
A God has no fate except
to be ugly in the eyes
of men. Real estate seems
like a good investment
until the tenants move
in. But forget real estate—
I do not want
to talk about the tenants—
I want to talk about
you. For too long I have
carried the weight
of nothing. The night
has passed and the
day is ours. I am
asking you once again
to be my bride. I
have a necklace of
fish, two boats, and
the scalp of my old
life. You are the
woman who started the
riot in my heart. Finis
what you started in me.
Kiss me when I come.
—Russell Vidrick
I could talk to you about eagles or dolphins
but that would be bullshit. I am a poor man.
I have never seen an eagle fly or a dolphin in
the ocean. I will talk to you about something
I know that you have seen, like crows or sparrows
fucking. You're much too independent to ever need
me; perhaps I can convince you that I need you.
These are some things that interest me: the
apocalypse, bombed-out buildings, cold war
trash in a river or lake, abandonment—anything
abandoned—railroad tracks last used in the early
or mid-twentieth century. If I were a devil or a
god, these would still be some of my favorite
—Russell Vidrick
PERFUME COUNTER PUSSY
—Lady
Prowl pussy!
big hair
perfect Tits
high in air
basic Black
pout lips
cheek boots
curve hips
spray marks
passers by
pheromone scent
mascara Eye
grip dog
tight jeans
on leash
back alleys Scream!
I'M A LUNG
—Lady
I'm a lung
and a throat
on a seat
on the road
& there’s sun
& there’s wind
& the road
makes no sound
RUFUS
—Lady
Let’s meet at the the crossroads, I’ll bring a
stone, someone some magic beans, and one a
string from their pocket, and someone a
clock.
The cat will bring some cheese, the mouse
will bring some cream, the clock will bring
its hands, and we will make some time.
We’ll tie our shoes with patience and button
up our ironed shirts, flashes of the pinks
from filed nails on worried-over hands, what
our barber has made of us this moon.
Harvest conjures measure. This is the time
for apples and carrots, for potatoes and
pumpkins and Mother Goose’s cobbled shoes.
ONCE UPON A TIME
—Smith
Best ice cream I've eaten
I hand-cranked myself on our farm
best butter I had I hand-churned as well
I'd milk the cow
get a gallon or two of milk
one-fourth which was cream
skim off the top
plop it in the butter churn
add some salt and crank away
sold a gallon of milk for fifty cents
pound of butter fifty cents
dozen eggs fifty cents
all this in the mid-1950s of course
roaming the woods from pond to pond
apple tree to apple tree
bare breasts in the barn
bare bodies in the field
post-atomic bomb but pre-space
the last honorable Republican in the White House
TV's golden age glowing
brand new rock 'n roll fast fun
gas 27 cents a gallon
three channels on TV
party line phones
AM radio only
45s and 33-and-a-thirds
riding my bicycle everywhere
racing our miniature collie Lassie down dirt roads
climbing trees
climbing barns and sliding off roofs
climbing wind mills
lying in high grass in breeze of summer sun
watching no news
reading no news
knowing no news
the people in charge good enough at lying
so we didn't know how crooked they were
all that mattered was sun and fun and girls
sad we were poor but not miserable about it
hopeful for the future
grateful for the present
and now six decades later
with over say and over prey and over stay
thankful for that past
INDUSTRIAL SYMPHONY 35
—Smith
They wedge me in the MRI
surgical shoulder ache in pain
start to roll me into machine as I inquire
"How long will this take?"
"Thirty-five minutes."
My mind cramps,
don't like being trapped,
don't like this,
know the panic button in my hand
CAN NOT BE USED
and then Industrial Symphony 35 starts
bleep blap boop
duck duck duck duck duck
baptist baptist baptist baptist
whirl screech scrack scream
bipbipbipbipbipbipbipbipbipbipbip
groan jerk jerk jerk growl
whappa whappa whip whop
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
blurp bloop bleep
gurgle
grok
chick chick click click chick chick crik
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
woopwoopwoopwoop
ruha ruha rumble rumble row
shudder shake shake shiver
herk quirk murk blurt
scrape jerk jerk jerk scoop
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
bump
aooooga aooooga
dive dive dive
silence
start again different order
different sounds
worthy of recording for hard music market
loud loud loud
I trap my trap fear
breath slow, deep
say Buddhist chant
start counting one thousand one
roam levels of hell
until "You doing ok?"
"How long?"
"Ten minutes more."
rise through purgatory
finally
"Three minutes. You've been very good."
one thousand one one thousand two
hit one thousand one hundred fifty
"Done, be right in."
Never again.
But thanks for the symphony
if not the memory,
and may you never ever hear it.
Today’s LittleNip:
Life and felines
begin with licks and kisses
end in tooth and claw
—Smith
_____________________
Bravo to our three Cleveland poets today; as Smith says, “3 Lady's... 3 Vidrick's... 3 me’s. Russell Vidrick's a Cleveland poet I've been coaxing to contribute.” And of course we know who Lady is—Smith’s muse and hot date. Thanks again, kids, and please keep delivering your gourmet poetry to the Kitchen.
For more Vidrick, go to agentofchaos.com/vidrick/index.htm/. For more Lady, see agentofchaos.com/lady/lady.php/. And for more Smith, see agentofchaos.com/.
Tonight from 8-9pm, Poetry in Davis presents Patrick Grizzell, Traci Gourdine, Jeanne Wagner, hosted by Andy Jones online at ucdavisdss.zoom.us/.
_____________________
—Medusa
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