I hear the heart of my watch is it beats
A song utterly destroyed
As a man talks to himself
His wife addressing him
As their child cries
I hold the film to the light
And see an old woman in pain
Her mouthless face
Crying out in darkness
To see her sister
Mocked by a group of plotters
I close the screen about my eyes
Where an old man sits
In smoldering sweaters
The tears from his eyes
Feeding his servants
As they beat him
Can you see
See it coming
See
Listen to the word as you say it
Look as you say it
Can you see the horizon
Through shades of clear
Shades of blue
Or shades of gray
See
I’m urging
Black is beautiful
Brown is beautiful
Red is beautiful
Olive is beautiful
Yellow is beautiful
White is beautiful
You have never seen
You must learn
See
Their smiles
Laughs
Frowns
Tears
See until your eyes have burned
Then listen
In silence
There is no silence
Listen
Listen to voices and words
Voices
Words
Listen as people talk in anger
And love
Smell
The sweetness of human skin
The air around you
Concentrate
And smell
Things you’ve never smelled
Things you’ve never touched
Are waiting
Touch
Yourself
Your clothing
Soil between your finger
And toes
Touch with your elbow
Arm
Cheek
Be gentle
And touch
With your tongue
Taste
Fruits
As they lie in your mouth
Water
As it cools your mouth
Taste
And live
I can see it
It’s coming
I can see people who love
Smiling as they love me
I can see people I love
Sharing of themselves
Giving the world to me
People talking gently
Sounds touching my ears
Saying nothing
As they give me incense
To smell
I can feel it
Sitting still
I can feel vibrations
I can feel an arm around me
I can taste
The water given to me
I can taste
The life going on around me
He comes
In the middle of class
Medicine in hand
Walks out
And is followed by us
Looking at the sculpted nude
He says
It’s good
For a first effort
It’s good
He touches
Runs his fingers over it
A nice ass
He says
But it has no structure
This leg has three axis
These breasts aren’t convincing
Look at it yourself
You’ve had a body
All your life
Moving past Marla
He says to Shay
This little one is good
Except for this one part
It’s unsolved
This big one got out of hand
It doesn’t feel good
To another he says
It works in light
But not to touch
Which is alright
Rodin didn’t work to touch
But to light
To Dee he says
These small pipes are good
But these large ones
Have an ambiguity
They should be either here
Or there
But it's neither here
Or there
The small ones lead you in
Three ways, you know
Then he sees Dugan’s Gallos
He looks
And says
What do you see in Gallo
He’s across the surface
Superficial
But it seems to be
Particularly American
And you are illustrating
Sexual stories
They look great
I wish I knew a bird
Like that
But you need to spend a week
In a French brothel
Or better yet a Spanish one
Then to Linda’s hanging intestines
He says
What can I say
They’re good for experimenting
They look intestinal
You should try to paint them
But you need to spend a day
In a slaughter yard
Taking photos
Of cattle guts
Then he invites his new disciples
To the student bar
For coffee
Jesus it’s cold
He says
Of America he states
It’s so vast
I fly thousands of miles
And land in a wilderness
I like to be where man
Has crapped before
Just so he cleans it up a bit
Then there was Mississippi
Which is really different
But so is South Dakota
England is as as small as it
But has one hundred times
The people
I generally find Americans
Are after the new car
And color television
And if you want to live here
You have to want the same things
I don’t
You think you’re free
But you’re not
American students as a whole
Aren’t aware and aren’t mature
Oh you take great technical studies
But you don’t read books
And one place where I found
A person learns most
Is at the pub
You have to meet and talk to people
And the war
Is just like your revolutionary war
America now is just like
England was then
The debates and dissensions
You’ll never win
Just as we could not
Zeal for independence is too great
That night he tells us of himself
I’ve got a classical background
I have a feeling for the cube
Like in Egyptian sculpture
I started out figuratively you know
I started approaching the cube
By doing technical type drawings
As my work progressed
I was invited to work for
Henry Moore
I have no excuse for accepting
He expected you to starve
And I started to do Moore-like
Things for which I have no excuse
So just bear with me
Moore was so involved with
These holes and colossal rotunds
Finally I left
And went to Paris
Where I painted
And was influenced by Calder
The sky was overcast with clouds, smoke and ash. It seemed as if the sun had begun to pale and age. The trees stood out in black as Mons began to laugh as he stood naked in the branches. Others stood smiling in nearby trees, their branches naked without leaves. Mons laughed louder and the others began to laugh along with him, the laughter echoing from black buildings standing on the horizon.
The front tire was flat but Mons couldn’t fix it because there were no tools or even a jack. As he got up from looking at the tire he looked at the sky. It seemed like ages since the sun shone through but the mass in the sky was getting lighter. Dan stood with his shirt fluttering in the breeze and said there was no more water, so they tumbled into the dusty ditches and lay among the crisp dried leaves.
The sun shone down from a clear sky as Mons put his mouth to the clear cool river. Downstream the women were playing in the water as his heart beat happy and he walked up the hill to the other men standing in a large dirt circle that lay in the glossy green grass of the hilltop. They watched him in silence as he studied the circle and the rocks arranged within it. Then he stepped into the center of the circle and stooped to arrange a few rocks and pebbles. As he stood back the men smiled at him and gestured congratulations. Mons stepped out of the circle and looked at the wide wide river glistening in the dim sun. As the breeze blew gently across his skin a sharp tingle went down his spine and he cocked his head for a second. Then gesturing hurriedly he sent the men running down the hill to the river. He and the other men pulled the women to an inlet where weeds and brush hung over the water and they lay down in it to their necks. Just as the water lost the waves of their movement, a sliver winged object, glistening in the sun, flew high overhead without a sound. As they gazed at it in fear and wonder it tipped on a wing, made a circle above them and disappeared over the horizon on the other side of the river. The others looked at Mons and he knew what they wanted, so he gestured to another man to come with him and they started to swim across the river.
She smiles at what the cynic said
She smiles
She stares at the people as they stutter
She stares with cold appearing eyes
She stares
She stared
At me as I stared at her
Boring through my eyes
Pinning me down
To look at me
To see what I say
Puzzled
Because I say nothing
As I squirm embarrassed
Softening her eyes
And turning away
My brother’s sleek poem
Rises in its silver beauty
To shatter the vacant silence
With an environment of sound
Screaming in slow motion
Like a young chromed eagle
Off on its own to taunt earth
With its sky scratching line.
Today I went to class
Mr. Ice Cream gave a lecture
And made us all to laugh
Thirty-six obscenities
Hanging on the wall
“Do away with pleasantries,”
He said to us all.”
“Do you think sex is dirty
Disgusting and a bore
I am not yet thirty
And it’s you I abhor.
You think a burning flag
Is entirely obscene
Or a girdled fetish leg
Is a disgusting scene.
Do away with inhibitions
Start to change your mind
To further your nutrition
It’s necessary you’ll find.”
So we walked to Rushmore
Mr. Hudson and I
We were joined by Mr. Joker
With a twinkle in his eye
Off to see the one armed dean
And the quiet prince
We sat with Mr. Music Clean
Being bored ever since
Two blond four-eyes
Sat with the king
Listening to his lies
Too sober to be drinking
So we left the silent room
And walked down the hall
Our laughter now in bloom
Resounding on the wall.
As we sat watching
From Okaton bridge
The traffic slowed
And stopped
The road lay silent
Vibrating in the heat
And around the curve
Came a buzzing prophet
Sliding by black
Reversing into bright thoughts
I dreamt of what
I would, would not do
With that kick of power
Grabbing the other soul
Jetting over the road
In the speed that is me
Accompanied by a dash
And they come
In groups
Singles
One two three
As they touch you
As they show you
As they flit by
On big gaudies
Like a bright day
Caressing the curves
Holding the straightaway
Leaving everything behind
With everything ahead.
That night
Pitching pennies
I stood next to a
Black beauty
Shining in the light
The other part of it
Standing next to me
Amazingly white haired
For something so young
And dressed in black leather
Silver stars and buckles
Unable to answer my questions
Standing nervous
As if to ask the other half
For permission to go to sleep.
At one time I worked on road construction in western South Dakota. My coworkers and I referred to ourselves as the Road Builders of America.
The Robuam
Lenny I
1. Never be late or make it obvious.
2. Miss Utah of 1967 was my wife.
3. I've had six corvettes.
4. Get drunk every night and give it to the men the next day.
5. Dress like a pig, live like a pig.
6. Get a laugh out of a near fatal accident.
Ray I
1. Silent Ray with his mustache sitting in the shade.
2. It's no biggy.
Pat I
1. It's your mother too, son.
Padre I
1. Bundled up in coats in summer.
Moe I
1. Padre's got pneumonia.
Roy I
1. I got tar on my boots but road builders are tough.
Donut I.
1. Get that steel laid. Yup, yup boys, that's the idea.
2. Got a road to build.
Beek I
1. Back in ‘02 we didn’t have trucks.
Lenny II
1. You can't drive a truck?
The Steel Truck
The steel truck is everyone’s dream and curse.
They dream to get on her.
And curse the steel she brings
I got on near the end but caught a little of the charisma all steel truckers have.
It was hot and there was Hooksa, Jim, Ray and me.
It was burning hot and we went so slow that Ray even slept. Ray was driving. Jim would tap him when we went towards the ditch.
Hooksa and I would jump off to throw bent steel on the truck.
Jim decided to drive behind in his car.
Hooksa cursed him and called him a commie.
Jim was from Texas and disliked commies. He hated Hooksa.
Hooksa decided it was time the truck had a flat for it hadn’t had one all summer. Hooksa pounded a nail into the front tire. It was a hot job so he drank all of Jim’s icewater.
Ray drove slow so that the air could come out. Hooksa and I walked alongside listening to the hiss. It took a long time to go flat, but it was worth it because the mechanic would take all afternoon to change it. Then we would have to stop doing nothing to stop working.
Jim and Ray went to tell the mechanics and get icewater. The mechanics gave them a new tire. Hooksa and I had to change the tire. When we were finally done, Jim and Ray had drunk all the icewater.
The next day they gave us a new man, Roger. He and Hooksa thought it was fun to see how many steel rods we could lift. They called Jim a lazy commie.
“I can lift more rods than you Pollock commie can any day,” said Jim.
So Jim would get on one end, Roger and Hooksa on the other end and I was in the middle where it was twice as heavy as either end. We picked up three rods, which was ninety pounds in the middle and had to throw it onto the truck bed which was almost five feet high.
“You call that hard,” said Jim after we did it.
“I didn’t say that,” said Hooksa. “Let’s lift five rods next time.”
I had a heck of a time getting my hands around five rods and an even harder time lifting them.
“Well,” I said after nearly breaking my back, “You guys can do it, so let’s go back to two rods.”
“That’s alright with me,” said Jim.
“The commie’s had enough,” said Hooksa.
“I thought you would,” said Jim.
“Let’s take eight,” said Roger.
So I bitched while we tried to get our hands around eight. We had to settle for seven. I was afraid the whole thing would fall on me.
“Ray,” I shouted, “Come and give me some help.”
But Ray was asleep in the cab and didn’t answer.
So sweating blood, I managed to get it barely up and onto the truck bed.
Then we came to the crane. It was parked in the middle of the road bed in the middle of the project. Roger and Jim went to sleep in the shade under it while Ray and I added oil and water to the truck.
“Let’s fix this crane,” said Hooksa. “It never did run too well so they’ll never know the difference. Give me some crackers out of Jim’s lunch box.”
So I gave him Jim’s crackers. He crumbled them and dumped them into the gas tank, which wasn’t quite enough, so he urinated into it.
“Now they’ll have a time figuring out what’s wrong,” laughed Hooksa, “It’ll just sit here in the middle of the road.”
The next day they ran out of jobs for the steel truck.
Getting drunker than I would like
To fall into my room
Or walking behind girls
And talking under his breath
Or eating like an animal
And grinning wide
Sitting with a big bosomed girl
Playing games with his eyes
Getting into fights
Taking his girl to a motel
Only to sleep on the couch
Quiet Dick on a hot day
Discussing life
Over ice cream
Or running for senator
With his business friends
Crazy Dick
Wearing green slacks
For sixty days
Dragging me out into the night
For a quiet peace march
Of a hundred candles
Or running in the snow
With his crazy laugh
Rolling oranges in the hall
Selling mattresses
Smoking cigars
Living life
More than I can ever hope to.
The clouds like a single sheet
Blending the sky and earth
The drops fall cool, steady and life giving
Hitting me as I walk and jump
Around clear new crystal puddles
The coolness charging me up
And blanching my breath
As I walk under dripping trees
So dark and green and alive
The distant buildings grayed colorless
But looking so new and alive
As I walk across shiny asphalt
Like a shallow white lake
Mirroring cars and people around me
And metal shining bright like jewels
And glass like giant diamonds
Overlooking leaves pasted to sidewalks
And lying limp in dark green grass
To walk forever getting wet
Dripping my hair, spotting my glasses
So that things blur as I turn my head
To see pools appearing inky black
But so clear as to vanish when I near
And the mist hugs me
And I respond by thinking
I'm glad I'm alive.
The days were cold and gray
And weighted with mud
We flew to the little town
Washed at the station
And went to Ruth's
We opened the door
And sat at a booth
Under their gaze
My hair wild like the wind
Ruth was always in back
But Colline
She always played a song
And came to let us look at her
Take our orders
And sit under our gaze
Colline
Like a fire in winter
Warmed our day
Wood
Wood
And the bugs climb
The blue scaled thing
Looks at me and I’m
Afraid to sing
At night the wall
Makes a funny sound
And that’s not all
The monster’s not around
To whisper fire
And paw your hand
To make you higher
Like a happy man
Wood, wood,
Remember that cold day
The fence kept me out, you in
And the sky was gray
But I didn’t think of sin
The blue scaled thing
Looked twice at me
Did anyone sing
As a wall grew quickly
Leaves were blowing then
Wonder if many eyes
Counted me among men
As the blue scaled monster flies
Wood, wood, wood
Would you like
Would you even chance
You don’t have to fight
You don’t have to dance
The blue scaled monster
Has a heart of gold
But recedes even further
As it grows old
The fiery eyes stare
From the blue scaled thing
Do you think it’ll care
If I sing?
 |
I
Vast plains of sand,
Stretching to my right, to my left,
In front of and behind me.
I know not east, west, south, or north.
II
White sand,
Glittering and made of black
Brown, and gray grains.
Dull, but bright,
Soft textured under foot,
And at the same time hard.
III
Great nothings of sand
Broken by puddles of water;
Some dark, dank, stagnant;
Some clear and inviting,
Mirrors in the sun
Beckoning the thirsty with pleasure,
But too shallow to be scooped and drank,
Little more than drops of dew.
IV
Great distances of sand,
Unmeasured and free.
Feet moving but still
The sandscape fails to change
And offer help, relief, a sanctuary.
Had I sat, I would still be
Where I am -
Nowhere.
But trails of footprints shooting out behind me
Are a monument to my wasted energy.
So I sit
And close my eyes to hide them from
The scenery of nothingness.
A wall
with a picture
and a mind with a thought.
The earth turns,
its marbled self,
a crust of clouds
and a people baking
and stewing.
A black child
warm brown in the sun
turns his ivory eyes
to see his belly.
A white man in a white shirt
on a white porch
thinks of his son
at war
killing people.
And the black child
falls in the heat.
An elephant
downed in one shot
lies in the bush,
a white hunter over him
and a black man
carrying the rifle.
Triggers pulled by the fingers
of each of two men
in a hole,
one black,
one white.
The heat rising
as the battle rages,
each shooting a fluid
stream of bullets,
searing hot
into the bodies
of others.
The man on the porch
goes into his house.
