Car or Truck?
Cat or Dog?
Spider or Centipede?
Bird or Fish?
Ladder or Tunnel?
Beer or Wine?
Food or Water?
CDs or Albums?
Movie or Theater?
Live or Memorex?
Candle or Light bulb?
Pencil or Pen?
Sleeping bag or Blanket?
Box or Bag?
Plastic or Paper?
River or Road?
Water or Air?
Vegetable or Fruit?
Cow or Goat?
Horse or Donkey?
Book or TV?
Picture or Painting?
Bell or Horn?
Door or Window?
Oven or Air conditioning?
Basil or Thyme?
Garlic or Ginger?
Weed or Alcohol?
Ant or Elephant?
Rock or Sand?
Suitcase or Backpack?
Church or the Woods?
Tongue or finger?
Tree or bush?
Chile or Bell pepper?
Tomato or Potato?
Money or Love?
Fruit or Flower?
Plant or Mammal?
Plumber or Senator?
Plane or Submarine?
Night or Day?
Dirt or Cardboard?
Restaurant or Home?
Fannie Pack or Shoulder bag?
Gas mask or Sanitary mask?
Tail or Bobbed?
Staple or Pin?
Front or Rear wheel?
Lizard or Bear?
Immortal or mortal
Bow or Gun?
Pistol or Sawed off Shot Gun?
Biology or Astronomy?
Math or Language?
Paperclip or Coat Hanger?
Kiss or Hug?
Glass or Bottle?
Heart or Brain?
Pumpkin or Biscuit?
Walk or Run?
Drive or Backseat?
Mountain or Ocean?
Phone or Ear?
Howl or Roar?
Paper or Tape?
Plank or Concrete block?
T.P. -fold it or wad it?
Blog
Dream 15nov17
This dream,
Was about larry and i starting a new band.
we were in this old house,
the person who was moving moving
had hada drawer full
Of used pipes,
We had a hard time
Get the mikrophone working
And i could only sing
A few words at a time
Before i had to rest.
And then i just started sing speaking.
‘Sometimes I run away
Spinning, stumbing,
Falling down
Looking round
‘I find it hard to be mellow.’
And then i keep going
In that pattern rattling off
Moving images
And things,
nervous acts,
And thoughts
And repeat the chorus.
‘i find it hard to be mellow’
Dream 14nov17
What a strange night of dreams
Most seem to be related to the restaurant
But the images were all over the place
But no cooking or any service stuff.
There was trying to find a good parking place
Early in the morning
When the lot was empty
So I could get out easy
When everybody was leaving.
Or where to put my knife roll
When I left so no one would take my knives.
or climbing up to the top of a storage shelf
To get some towels
That had been hidden
Cause there weren’t any in the kitchen
To find out
They were gone
And had been replaced
With paper towels
Another image
Was me talking with Julie
One of our hostesses at the hosted stand
About fish
Mostly the migratory habits of salmon.
The last thing was
when I woke up this was scribbled on a piece of paper by my head.
-my brother sends me something ever ten days. He smiled
-for you I’ll just say Ferrell. Send me a little extra for my friend.
We look at the Greek tragedies
And I think Shit I got poems long than that.
What that means
I have no idea.
Marta [2001]
1
This time when Marta awoke
Wolf hadn’t even gone to sleep
the lamp in the corner etched the room in a dim shadow.
The whole thing, the metal cage,
the bright lights through the windows
the concrete slabs and pillars
the confusing smiles
a trace of a woman’s scent lingered.
and yet all was not right
the land was wrong
Wolf was not home.
The plants, the lamps,
the books,
an alien scent was about.
Wolf tried to remember last night;
but he could narrowly remember
the smell of perfume filling his nostrils
his legs throbbed
and his first instinct
the one which had saved him so many times before
poked around the nerves in his brain
RUN.
He gathered up his legs
and ran out of the room down the hall
and outside
the lock clicking shut the door
Wolf suddenly realized he had been asleep
and found himself locked outside in this underwear.
All he had to do was buzz Emilio.
2
Wolf has a big problem,
He realizes
as he foggingly quests for Emilio’s Magic 3
As he stares at the numbers
and the buzzers above them.
They are not familiar.
He didn’t know which room he had come from
nor even where he was in the city;
or to make matters worse,
he was beginning to doubt he was even in the city.
The air about him was different,
the smells more stall, tart.
The season was wrong.
it was cold.
He remembers warmth.
Was that even Marta shaking the room.
Where was he now?
How did he get there?
How would he get his clothes,
so these people would quit staring at him?
Wolf’s instincts scrambled to attention.
The chemical’s were still in his blood,
as he tried to get a fix on his position.
There were no trees
as the grey smog clouds tumbled from the sky.
His eyes gritty.
Suddenly the door clicked.
A woman’s face came in out of focus through the dirty glass of the
door.
She opened the door all the way,
her eyes met Wolf’s,
she smiled “Wolf, get inside.”
the voice was familiar though it sounded wrong
as if it was put through a Flanger,
or a chorus.
He remained statuesque.
“Silly man, get inside before you catch a cold,
and then give it to me.”
She reached out takes him by the hand and pulls him to her.
The lips, the teeth, the tongue
were all narrowly fitting,
‘can’t turn away a beautiful woman in her robe,
and has your clothes.”
Wolf followed her back into the room. 27
He remembered to look this time
better remember it just In case.
the morning’s a meanie
I say the morning
She’s a meanie
She does me wrong
Every single day
I say the morning
She’s a meanie
She reminds me of every pain
I say the morning
She’s a meanie She
Wakes me
with her bright eye
In my face
(This a song I was singing
While I was butchering fish,
Doesn’t seem like it
But I had some kind of rhythm
To it)
