February 2014 Part 4
Friday, August 31, 2018
BURGLARS
Yellow spreads across the morning
words across a field of ears
dawn in a quiet smile
eyes opening in mystery.
Cat gatling laugh at a homeless dog
dog stretched across the living room
rug
thugs in your bank account
my love is not always pleasant
but she is real.
Time ends when you are alone.
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Life at the Rectory
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Life at the Rectory
(excerpt)I wanted to believe in something. I prayed. But all I could hear was the echoed clang of a clapper against a bell. The bell ringer was dead. The universe was empty… I was the miserable beggar on the street, my palms slashed red with the cuts from freshly minted coins… I was the bitch, the poor cur whining in the overheated parked car in the middle of the afternoon in the middle of a parking lot in the middle of the suburbs… I waited in the middle earth between paradise and suicide… I studied. I studied with Plato in the coldness of his cave, huddled around the fire as reality played out on the walls. I tried to find the sun but I could never find the entrance to the cave… I argued with Sartre in a room with no doors… I studied. Running along the streets of Copenhagen with Kierkegaard as the Danish brats pelted us with stones and laughter. I wanted to roast the little buggers over an open fire… I wept. Like hills into ditches into an empty sky… I saw a lonely man hanging from a tree and mistook him for Santa Claus. He looked down at me and smiled like a drunk in an alley. ‘Follow me,’ he entreated. ‘Or buy me another glass of wine. Or if you do not have any loose change, cut me down from this tree where I have been abandoned by the wind.’
A parish priest is dealing with several lives at crisis, the young boy becoming a hoodlum, another young boy who feels he is fated to die, the Parish pastor who wonders if he is suited for the Church, a woman who has fallen in love with him, and his own soul.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
A Tour Through A Mad Man’s Days
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A Tour Through A Mad Man’s Days
(excerpt)
Charlie laughed. “I was institutionalized a few times.”
“Insane asylum.”
“A hospital. They say that I was wired wrong. They put me on different drugs trying to set me right. Sometimes they worked. For a while. Sometimes they didn’t work at all.”
They were silent for some time.
“What’s it like to be crazy?”
Charlie glanced at the boy. “It’s scary. One day you feel like Napoleon. Like you could conquer the world. Then you wake up. On the battlefield. After the armies have left. And all you can smell is dead bodies. And you’re one of them.”
Mackenzie nodded. “I know the feeling.”
“You remind me of someone I knew when I was a kid, kid.”
“And who would that be?”
“Me.” Charlie put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Why don’t we go over and bowl a game?”
“Insane asylum.”
“A hospital. They say that I was wired wrong. They put me on different drugs trying to set me right. Sometimes they worked. For a while. Sometimes they didn’t work at all.”
They were silent for some time.
“What’s it like to be crazy?”
Charlie glanced at the boy. “It’s scary. One day you feel like Napoleon. Like you could conquer the world. Then you wake up. On the battlefield. After the armies have left. And all you can smell is dead bodies. And you’re one of them.”
Mackenzie nodded. “I know the feeling.”
“You remind me of someone I knew when I was a kid, kid.”
“And who would that be?”
“Me.” Charlie put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Why don’t we go over and bowl a game?”
A mad man walks through his afternoon recalling memories from a
past he had long forgotten. A young kid joins him. The kid believes
that God is going to assassinate him. The two friends attempt to
rediscover the mad man’s lost world. And then the mad man discovers his
mission in life. He will save the kid from God.
Monday, August 27, 2018
OOO
OOO (a song)
black cars on a rainy night
head lights pastel smelter jury
on the court house steps
there's a necktie hanging from the hood
ornament of a pink limousine.
ooo that feeling at 2 a m (refrain)
that feeling at 2 a m
beach scars on a wink stained groom
clock ticking alarm goes off from
the next room
the world is dripping away from a rusty
faucet
a priest corners an altar boy
the face of a loved one buried in a
cardboard locket
(refrain)
moans through the houses of the dead
the constant swaying of her dress
and the drapes and the white light of
the venetian blinds
so much to remember so much to forget
I lay my head down on a bed
that isn't mine.
(refrain)
Sunday, August 26, 2018
A Boy's World
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A Boy’s World
(excerpt)
Sometimes I can’t
remember what mom looks like. Sometimes all I can remember is her smile.
Mom has only been dead a year and her face is already beginning to
fade. I have to look at the pictures dad keeps on the mantle. They too
are beginning to fade. There must be something wrong with me that I
can’t remember mom. Maybe I didn’t love her enough.
It’s dawn. I am buried
in my room, like it was a tomb. The morning light slips through the
blinds and the invasion begins. The light is dull. The fan in my room
chug-a-lugs along, stirring the heat slowly. I don’t care about the
heat. The sound of the motor helps me sleep. It’s comforting. At night I
don’t want to think about the rest of the world. Silence scares me. But
the silence outside holds surprises. The unpredictable keeps me awake.
Or maybe I’m just afraid of the dark.
I can hear my father
downstairs. He’s been up for hours. I don’t think that he ever sleeps.
My old man wanders around the house like a ghost. Mumbling to himself.
Sitting on the porch staring at his roses in the darkness. Talking to
the emptiness. Talking to mom. Living in his own world. Living in
yesterday. Limbo. Broken. Drifting from one day to the next. In and out
of the hours. Sometimes he looks happy. Happy in another time. When I
didn’t exist. When there was just him and mom.
When I come home from
school, the house is like a funeral home. Walk into the living room and
find him sitting on the couch where I’d left him earlier that day. No
television on. No music. Just sitting there. His only friend, a cane
that leans against the couch. Sometimes he looks like he’s dead.
Saturday, August 25, 2018
DOWN HOME
Trees have opened up
birds anxious, fretting in the August
leaves.
A cow bawling in a distant field.
Back door screen door slams
a dog barks.
The gate at the end of the road has
been dragged through the rich red mud.
Cold clear water laps over the edge of
the well
Into the long green grass.
Faces fading
like the mist in the early morn
filling the empty sky.
Several Incidents in Mackenzie Philip’s Afternoons
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“Trust me, Father, God hates me. He tried to kill me when I was born. My head was too big and my mother almost died. They had to use clamps on my head but the clamps broke so they cut into my mother’s bones. It was a real mess. The doctors figured I would have brain damage. I was tested. They didn’t find any damage but what does that mean? The way I figure it, I was brain damaged. I mean, I should have been a genius but I’m just average intelligence. It’s been a real disappointment to my parents. My dad is an airline pilot and my mom teaches at Humber College so they’re pretty smart. They figured they should have been set for life with a genius as a child but look what they got to show for everything – me.”
Mackenzie Philips had to deal with all the trials of youth, bullies, school, parents who don’t understand him. And God. Who Mackenzie believes is out to get him. God wants revenge. Because Mackenzie has committed a terrible crime. He’s killed someone. He’s killed two someones.
Several Incidents in Mackenzie Philip’s Afternoons
(excerpt)“Trust me, Father, God hates me. He tried to kill me when I was born. My head was too big and my mother almost died. They had to use clamps on my head but the clamps broke so they cut into my mother’s bones. It was a real mess. The doctors figured I would have brain damage. I was tested. They didn’t find any damage but what does that mean? The way I figure it, I was brain damaged. I mean, I should have been a genius but I’m just average intelligence. It’s been a real disappointment to my parents. My dad is an airline pilot and my mom teaches at Humber College so they’re pretty smart. They figured they should have been set for life with a genius as a child but look what they got to show for everything – me.”
Mackenzie Philips had to deal with all the trials of youth, bullies, school, parents who don’t understand him. And God. Who Mackenzie believes is out to get him. God wants revenge. Because Mackenzie has committed a terrible crime. He’s killed someone. He’s killed two someones.
Friday, August 24, 2018
The Mad Man
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The Mad Man
(excerpt)I can never sleep. Soon as my head hits the pillow, my brain turns on. Ideas. Things that you can never imagine yourself thinking. For months I used to worry about my airplane. There’s a small airport near the trailer where people land small aircraft. And as soon as my head was horizontal I started to worry. Where did I park the airplane? It’s not like it wouldn’t be easy to find. There can’t be more than a couple dozen airplanes on the ground. But I couldn’t recall parking it anywhere. Keep me up for hours. And then one day I was in Durham in this small grocery store picking up a few vegetables when it suddenly dawned on me. I don’t have an airplane.
One night I’m laying there worried about the poles. Not the country. The north and south pole. What if they switched? It had happened before. Would we wake up the next morning disoriented? Would the birds start flying north in the fall? Would we have to remake all our maps? Would Santa Claus have to seek out counseling?
It’s a disorder. I’ve been tested for it and found wanting. What do they call 4 a.m.? The hour of the wolf? You go outside and there is a strange stillness in the air. It’s the hour when most people die. Just before the dawn.
Up at the trailer I would go out and wander through the fields. Try and tire myself out. A couple of times I found myself the next morning, sleeping with the cows. Nothing romantic. But, I love cows. There’s a sad wisdom in their eyes. Don’t fool yourself. They know what’s in their future. They can smell barbecues miles away. But they’re resigned to their fate. It makes my heart sink. That’s why Madeleine and I became vegetarians. That lasted about six months until one night when I fell asleep in a field of carrots.
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
The Assassination of a Citizen
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I don’t know if I said something wrong. But Paul changed. He wasn’t the Paul in the club. He started to act rough. He reached for the empty bottle of wine and smacked me on the head. I laid there for a while. Out of it. As I began to come to, I could feel his hands on my neck. And I passed out again. Slipping into a deep dark hole. The next time my head started to clear, I could hear him off to one side, near the bushes. He was crying. Like a baby.
“Why did you make me do it?” he moaned.
And then his little hands were around my neck again. I lay helpless on the ground, staring up into the clear night sky. And one by one the stars began to disappear.
The Assassination of a Citizen
(excerpt)I don’t know if I said something wrong. But Paul changed. He wasn’t the Paul in the club. He started to act rough. He reached for the empty bottle of wine and smacked me on the head. I laid there for a while. Out of it. As I began to come to, I could feel his hands on my neck. And I passed out again. Slipping into a deep dark hole. The next time my head started to clear, I could hear him off to one side, near the bushes. He was crying. Like a baby.
“Why did you make me do it?” he moaned.
And then his little hands were around my neck again. I lay helpless on the ground, staring up into the clear night sky. And one by one the stars began to disappear.
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
The Writer as a Man
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It’s a good place to think. The bench. To mull over ideas. That’s my madness. Everywhere I look I see patterns. Patterns are someone’s idea, someone’s creation. Order is recklessly rearranging the furniture around us. Old buildings being replaced by new buildings. Old people dropping dead at the feet of children. Order giving birth in the ashes of death. Order is my God. Patterns are His skin. I need a universe in which everything makes sense. What else is consciousness for? We were put here as witnesses. But why does God need us as witnesses? Why does God need us at all? When I was a small boy I would wander out into the backyard of my parents suburban home and look up onto the night sky at the stars and ask what all this was about. And just as I finished asking the question, I discovered that I was an old man.
The Writer as a Man
(excerpt)It’s a good place to think. The bench. To mull over ideas. That’s my madness. Everywhere I look I see patterns. Patterns are someone’s idea, someone’s creation. Order is recklessly rearranging the furniture around us. Old buildings being replaced by new buildings. Old people dropping dead at the feet of children. Order giving birth in the ashes of death. Order is my God. Patterns are His skin. I need a universe in which everything makes sense. What else is consciousness for? We were put here as witnesses. But why does God need us as witnesses? Why does God need us at all? When I was a small boy I would wander out into the backyard of my parents suburban home and look up onto the night sky at the stars and ask what all this was about. And just as I finished asking the question, I discovered that I was an old man.
WOMAN IN A GARDEN
WOMAN IN A GARDEN
(a song for my friend Ed)
I was up all night. Worried.
My brother was in trouble. And all I
saw was black. Looked out the window.
There was a woman in a garden.
Sitting on the crosstown bus. A
raccoon walked across the street. I
never
felt so alive. The city was asleep.
And all I could think of was
the woman in the garden.
I stood on your doorstep. The doors
were locked. There was a sign on the
lawn. Your dog wasn't barking.
There was a woman in your garden.
Monday, August 20, 2018
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Saturday, August 18, 2018
THE HUNGRY THIEF
rarely a day goes by
i don't fall apart
pant legs frayed
caramels melting in my pocket
world is wooden everything
is on fire. I missed my mind a
moment ago. my mother laughed
for no particular reason
Neil Young is on FM but
I don't have a radio. his songs
sound like prayers
someone is standing at the end
of a dark hallway. I stumbled up the
stairs
trying to catch the wind
time is a hungry thief.
Friday, August 17, 2018
Thursday, August 16, 2018
RUDOLPH VALENTINO BLUES (a song)
Cat in a fish.
A hole in a well.
Screams in an ambulance.
You gotta let it rip.
Pictures of lovers, both old and nude.
Strangers on the same street.
Church bells rhyming
You gotta let it rip.
Can't find my legs.
They ran off with the farmer's
daughter.
Got to stop myself
from falling into laughter.
You gotta let it rip.
In polite company. Police corruption.
In the middle of a ceremony.
Prostate exam. Oral detention.
Freedom of speech.
You gotta let it rip.
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
Lip Gloss and Movie Making
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I have these awful thoughts. In the middle of the night. When I can’t get to sleep. Like a slide show. The planet. Devastated. Hardly a sign of life except for the odd building on the landscape. And the sky is a deep purple. Silver clouds drift by. And the land is black. Except for the ditches where water runs red. There are leafless trees on the horizon that look like crucifixes. And I’m the last person on the planet. Except for a mysterious dark stranger. We’re the Adam and Eve of the planet. And he’s a serial killer.
Lip Gloss and Movie Making
(excerpt)I have these awful thoughts. In the middle of the night. When I can’t get to sleep. Like a slide show. The planet. Devastated. Hardly a sign of life except for the odd building on the landscape. And the sky is a deep purple. Silver clouds drift by. And the land is black. Except for the ditches where water runs red. There are leafless trees on the horizon that look like crucifixes. And I’m the last person on the planet. Except for a mysterious dark stranger. We’re the Adam and Eve of the planet. And he’s a serial killer.
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