buffalo bob and jeezus

Where do we live, in heaven or hell; why not either? ho jeezus.
is it restlessness, human nature, or abject and terribly humane stupidity driving us toward
life in a fast lane leading to no exit from the super highway down the road. oh
yes.
my problem is i was/am an innocent, well unarmed to seek a feasible, feastible answer while
the world runs amok,
looking for the next best thing to change,
which really bears no difference to the last change where
we reel, rockin' n' a rollin' way 'til the break of dawn, shoobey doo wah.
Christ,
mohammed,
errol flynn,
joe dimaggio,
mickey mantle,
gone to
other things of which we know not but are unwilling to admit
other than our own interpretation.
mister aspiration: don't hide your arm, and smoke a lucky, and tell the truth.
tomorrow, someone may ask us where we've been:
homer: long game winning ball or the iliad.
christ.
live well among the cedars of the limestone-pocked hills where the cherokees
did not cherish nobility anymore than the white invaders who
bought, sold and still try to own the negras
who changed their name several times to avoid their own perception of embarrassment or
the other coast where high desert promotes the same silly-ass idea of superlativeness which invades places, our spaces
having no climate but drinkable water. ho, santa ride, ride, ride Rudolph,
have you heard of
mr phinneas t bluster and, god bless her, princess summerfallwinterspring? maybe buffalo bob and howdy doody had it right all along
after all.

- Bonita, California
- August 28, 1996

To Judy: Shards of Glass

i have had dreams;
seen most shattered:
shards of glass on the concrete roads i've traveled.

i laughed most of the broken dreams away
(the others no one knew
are still around,
not laughed away).
i survive laughing.

there is a gentle incline
up the road to your house;
two horses graze peacefully
in the pasture
on the other side of the fence;
i drove past your house last night,
turning in the cul-de-sac,
passing the horses again
on the way out.

i hope your dreams
are not shards of glass
on the concrete roads
of texas.

- College Station, Texas
- July 31, 1979