Beatnik Prayer #7

Crossing an entire state,

Pennsylvania lost her mystery,

when I peaked into her windows,

while she was changing this morning,

I saw her brazier,

peeked up her skirt.

Forgive me for not taking my time,

In this drive, pulling the distance.

Clouds in Valleys, Hinckley, Ohio

The backseat was full of shit;

dirty laundry, duffle bags full of

this weekend's fashion,

and me, sandwiched between a camera bag

and rotten polos, shorts and some sweaters.

I had no choice but to stare out the window,

it was more green then the usual views:

strip mall, largest in the country,

and there weren't thirty different chain restaurants,

but i was still satisfied with a visual feast;

this was a neat little closet space tucked away

behind the Christmas decorations and a few

filthy cobwebs,

Hinckley, Ohio.

The valleys we meandered through

like over running rain water drains in Columbus,

overflowing into the streets,

were nothing but the interstate,

and our vehicle.

The trees dotted these mountains,

almost distant relatives to Appalachia,

but not quite tall enough, not quite east enough,

this mountain vista was kind enough for me

to watch;

yet, I was unsettled.

There was a violence to it,

some motion or

RAGE

going on beneath the almost summer bloom,

by cover of canopy, on the mountain floor.

And if not some beast stalking

nighttime terrors,

then perhaps the clouds setting in too low,

pierced by these peaks,

cut into and forced to submit the tree tops.

These clouds are visitors to these valleys,

introduced by a warm rain,

left to mingle with the hot mildew

on each leaf on the sides of the interstate,

perhaps this was not some violence,

but some romance.

I couldn't complain about it.

La main et les morts

Holding hands,

seems so unfair in the eyes of every amputee,

this condition:

the habitual loathing of dawn,

like an daytime-insomniac-owl,

comes delivered to bitter, open

palms.

Beatnik Prayer #5

Greasy burger wrappers,

line the back seat

of my traveling home:

a cherry red Mustang.

Another drive through,

bless us o lord and these thine gifts,

another meal.

Beatnik Prayer #4

Snowing beaches,

nature's perfect contradiction,

but

Where are consistent

evergreens beside highways?

Another roadside

attraction.

He Does My Smoking For Me

Such a nice guy, that old beat.

The Hair Situation

From the fiery death of my punk rock faux-hawk, rises the metaphorical phoenix that is my overwhelmingly long bangs.

Missed my gabba gabba Ramones doo.