Welcome To The World


A self-proclaimed, devout conservationist
Long in the longleaf pines

Dredging Kerouac’s alluvial thoughts
Just adding on and adding on
Not stopping ever
Till the cows come home and the lips crack
And the racks set on the spit
Burn to a crisp

An offering to the very best of gods

William Carlos Williams and Wordsworth
Looking in the alleys
For Rastafarian saints and intellectual allies
For some leader of the Confederacy to put faith in

“I’m down in your beaver hole, Ma” He writes
“Ripping the walls apart”
“No ideas but in things” He says
And sings at the Berkeley Poetry Conference 1965
Making everyone cry and realize the predicament of being

Einstein at Naropa and recordings of Trungpa
Praising the hippies and sipping the yippies
Longing for something more than a convertible Camero or plastic Jesus

And in the long hallways under fluorescent lights
Children learn to harbor deep resentment
And Kafka breaks it down

An endless row of streetlights,
Beautiful ballet dancers
Spreading their wings

So he made the swineherd walk the plank
And nailed him to the cross,
An unnecessary failure
Or a divine benediction

The elders are still in bloom
And still it’s the Mad Hatter’s Happy Birthday
So he blows a kiss and offers this:

Writing playing with being, life’s slow pencil work
Being playing with writing, the fast dream is drawn

Previously published in Sheep & Monkey Poems

Photo: C Miller


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