knowkowski buKaroo
piles
of scribbled thoughts
haphazard stacks
wrinkled together
off the trail
lost angels and
pink elephant nests
of empty bottles
on the clacking tracks
of delirium
rode rollercoasters
of beethoven
he watched angles
of floor
as waking
crashed harsh unfocused
wondered how
that bronc-ette muse
threw him
Prometheus carborundum
titanic flotations
of mythic proportion
sink as surely as
memories into seas of mind.
to swim promethetically
in opposition to assumptions
where guesswork belies the guessed about,
exposes guesser and nothing more.
burn baby burn
in fantasies of wished for organs,
to the vein of a quote by ambrose bierce
admiring every protein that left mean vacant dome.
three shotgun shells and a rudimentary assembly,
three small amounts of isotope,
trajectory and timing and voila,
a nuisance of a half-life of Promethean cataclysm!
bless the rads and hot air.
musk project
how hot heaven
trembled through thrusting
(of dull surprise)
pooled provocative percale
knew kinky knarsap
(nine moon swell)
she thought how simple
and sleek she'd still be
(if he'd just used his tongue)
nuclear origami round delay
atomic this and
modern that I heard.
baseball cards and marbles,
hula hoops and yoyos,
bikes with banana seats
made me forget
those blasts and winds and
mushrooms on tv until dreamtime.
nagasakidoom,
hiroshimamadness
and new mexico
erupting underground.
those guys in the snow
in a place called Korea.
the ever constant threat.
years rolled
down hills of youth
to places between rocks
and hard places.
uptights of catholic schools
and private academies
were strange enough,
and then the whole world
came shuddering in.
those mushrooms billowing,
waking with queasy gut,
years unfolding in dread.
ok, reverse the origami
through to middle age
where now I am.
revisiting now and again
worries of private whackos
who'll somehow find a way
to access a nuclear device.
they could change
all that we know
before we know it.
somehow,
here I am
full circle feeling
those nukes of childhood.
observed one enchanted evening
sunset walk in Santa Rosa
voyeured a moment
through a window
waited to cross busy street
watched her upend glass
then lean against mirror
imagined the gulp a clean smooth single malt
which spoke highlands to her tongue
she shook stare that must've confronted
stunned realized self
as fade of bloom
slipped out of strap
lost in reflection's daze
distilled haze
traffic lulled
I walked on
